Archiving: just ask.
Rating: R
Date: June 2003.
Summary: A Quidditch loss leads to a most disquieting tea.
Notes: This was written as part of the Armchair Furniture Fic Challenge. Thank you to Vinagrette, who suggested this item given my love for the Tea Party, and thank you to the Tea Party, for being my muses in so many ways.
Thank you to Clio and Yasmin for betaing, and especially to Clio for explaining the ins and outs of tea serving to me. *blows kisses*
Dedication: to Harry and Draco, on the eve of Book 5. Thank you for a year and a half of joy.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was full of many varied and beautiful places.
The Gryffindor Quidditch Locker Room was not one of these.
This particular locker room (like the other three) was pungent with the smell of old sweat and new leather. Grime clung to the walls, and one glance at the less-than-pristine floor was enough to tell anyone who entered not to remove their shoes. Over the years numerous scouring charms had been used on it, to no avail. Whether the locker room remained this dirty as an incentive to students to enter and leave as quickly as possible, no one could say; but the indisputable fact remained that the Gryffindor Quidditch locker room was the last place anyone would expect to run across beauty of any kind.
It was also the last place anyone would expect to run across a tea party.
Yet stranger things have happened, and when the Gryffindor Quidditch team assembled one bright Thursday afternoon, the day after their first-ever loss to Slytherin with Harry Potter as team captain, a tea party was in fact precisely what they found.
Seven brooms clattered unceremoniously to the grunge-covered floor, as the team members gaped at the seven unwelcome students who were already in the room. Lolling about on the benches, chatting amicably among themselves, were the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
And in the centre of the room, veiled with a resplendent cloth of white lace and set for fourteen people, was a tea cart.
�Oh, look, they�re right on time,� said Millicent Bulstrode with a yawn in her voice. �How predictable.� The other Slytherins stopped chattering, looked up at them, and smirked collectively.
Pushing his way to the front, the team captain, Harry Potter, glared at the intruders. �Malfoy,� he bit out, eyes fastening on to the one person in the room who had risen at their entrance, �What is this?�
�Come, come, Potter,� responded the Slytherin captain with far too much good will, �there�s no need to be so testy. We�re just here to fulfil the rest of the agreement.�
Every eye in the room snapped to Harry�s bewildered face. �Agreement?� he echoed, stepping further in to the room. �What are you talking about?�
Draco let out a �tsk, tsk� and began to pour boiling hot water from an elegant Victorian kettle into an even more elegant Victorian silver teapot that graced the centre of the tea cart. �I suspected you might not remember,� he drawled. �Pesky short memory you have, Potter. Fortunately, I came prepared.�
Harry began to respond in the negative when he noticed that sitting on a doily beside the teapot was a large round�not a bowl. It was a�
�Harry, what is that?� said his keeper Ginny Weasley, who had come to stand beside him, and whose hand was now territorially clutching his sleeve. �Is it a��
�It�s a pensieve,� growled Harry, his features hardening. �What�s going on, Malfoy?�
Draco tossed his head gracefully, and Harry thought that standing in this dingy room in his regular dress robes the Slytherin prefect looked as out of place as a nobleman in a barnyard. When he spoke his voice was like drizzling honey, though the glint in his eyes was familiar and malicious.
�I thought,� he smiled, canines showing, �that just in case you had forgotten, the your fellow team-mates as well as mine would appreciate a refresher.� He gestured to the pensieve, where strange vapours swirled and gyrated like a dark sea caught in a vicious swell.
Harry had just enough time to suspect that whatever memories Draco were holding in there, they must be turbulent indeed, before Ginny boldly stepped up to the penseive, declared, �Whatever this is about, Malfoy, don�t think you�re going to get away with it,� and peered down into the surface in curiosity. Immediately, her face twitched in alarm as she appeared to evaporate, her form curling and swirling towards the bowl like the mist inside it.
The Gryffindors gasped in horrified surprise. Harry raised a hand to quiet them, and they settled down, waiting for him to speak. �Fine, Malfoy, but she�s right�whatever this is about, we�ll play. We�ll let you have your fun and then you�d better get the fuck out of here, and don�t say a word about our extended practice time.�
Draco flashed him a brilliant smile. �But of course, Potter.�
He held up his hand as well, and the two Beaters for the Slytherin team, Martin and Burrows, stepped forward obediently and vanished inside the pensieve. Millicent Bulstrode, casting a daring glance around at the remaining Gryffindors, held out her hand for the bowl, which her captain duly held out to her. She vanished in a puff of smoke. Eyes narrowed, Seamus Finnigan shoved through the huddle and defiantly gestured for his turn. And so it went, with each of the Gryffindors and Slytherins vanishing into the memory, until the only two remaining were the two team captains, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, who stood glaring at one another.
Draco set the pensieve back down onto the tea cart and waved his arm toward it grandly. �Well, Potter�after you.�
Harry set his face into a hard line of disgust. �You�re so�so�� he began, fists clenching in automatic frustration.
�No need to compliment me,� Draco beamed back at him. �I�ve heard it all before.�
��gah!� finished Harry, stepping forward and glaring into the bowl. All at once he fell forward inside it and found himself standing beside Dennis Creevey, watching a memory that was already in progress.
No sooner had he adjusted to his surroundings than he remembered the scene he was watching. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were gathered around the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. It was dinnertime, and from the looks of the sky overhead it was raining outside. Opposite at the Gryffindor table Seamus and Dean were making parchment Quidditch brooms and flying them around the table. Harry remembered that day�it had been one of the last of the previous semester. He remembered getting into a row with Draco. But he didn�t remember anything that would explain the presence of the entire Slytherin team in his locker room, let alone the presence of a tea cart.
This obviously was Draco�s memory, because in the memory everyone in Slytherin seemed to have their eyes constantly glued to him. But then, noted Harry, looking around him at the faces of the other students, that wasn�t any different even now. The real students were standing loosely scattered among the Slytherins seated at the table. It was very odd to see doubles of everyone at once like that. Harry thought �Polyjuice orgy� before he could stop himself and then really, really wished that he hadn�t.
Memory-Draco was stirring his food listlessly and saying heatedly to Blaise Zabini, who sat opposite, �You�re crazy if you think you can get to Gryffindor by using scare tactics. That�s not how they work. With a Gryffindor you go for the weak points. Find them and use them til you shake �em up.�
Around Harry the other Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably. The Slytherins watched attentively. They looked like they were taking notes.
In the memory Zabini cocked an eyebrow and said suspiciously, �You mean the way you always seem to get to Potter? Right, that works.�
Draco suddenly slammed his fork down on his tray with a loud rattle. Everyone jumped, both in the memory and in the watching audience.
�I can,� he seethed. �I can get to Potter, don�t you think I can�t.�
�So go get him,� blinked Zabini with an unconvincing amount of innocence. �You haven�t had a real run-in with him for months now. People are starting to wonder.�
Startled, Harry thought back and realised that Zabini was right. For much of the past year Draco had left him alone. He hadn�t even noticed, but suddenly he found himself wondering why�what had done it? Had it been a change of heart? Had he finally gotten tired of the constant taunts and jibes? (Something in Harry automatically resented this�wasn�t he a good enough sparring partner? He�d show him, the prat.) But he didn�t get to ponder the reasons for long, because abruptly Draco rose from the table, stepping over the bench and glaring across the room at the Gryffindor table with determination.
�Fine. I will.� Draco sneered, �Watch this,� and strode over to the Gryffindor table. The Slytherins all watched expectantly and the Gryffindors looked on in apprehension. In the memory, however, none of them looked up save Ron Weasley, who spotted Draco, elbowed Harry in the ribs, and said, �Oi, ferret-face, the rubbish bin is that way.� Memory-Harry looked up, rolled his eyes, and kept on eating.
Draco summoned his most impressive sneer, and Harry wondered if it was really all that withering as Draco seemed to remember it being. He addressed Ron, but it was Harry whom he came to stand in front of. �You know, Weasley, it�s too bad that old saying about trading sickles for your thoughts isn�t real. As much as you like to run your fat mouth it�d be the end of all your family�s money problems.�
The Slytherins watching jeered appreciatively, while Ginny clenched her fists and looked as if she couldn�t decide who to glare at, Malfoy Then or Malfoy Now. In the end she settled on staring at the floor, furious and red-faced, while her brother sputtered and fish-gaped an awful lot more than Harry had remembered him doing.
�Then again,� Draco went on snidely, putting one leg up on the bench and resting his weight against it casually, �your family�s so poor you�d probably go permanently hoarse and they�d still be unable to feed you.�
Ron went a positively apoplectic shade of pink then, and next to him Harry put a firm hand on his elbow, sighed the usual long-suffering sigh where Draco was concerned, and looked up.
It was then that things, for Harry at least, became very interesting.
The first interesting thing was the way, in Draco�s captured memory, that the sky overhead seemed to lighten and clear as Memory-Harry lifted his eyes and gazed at him. It happened so smoothly Harry almost didn�t notice, but when he did he realised he didn�t remember that happening at all.
The second interesting thing was the way Harry himself suddenly seemed to be, in Draco�s memory, a lot of things that Harry had never known himself to be before. Harry Potter was not an aesthetic judge of beauty, in anybody, let alone in himself. But when he watched himself raise his head and level a glare at Draco, suddenly he caught a glimpse of�of something he�d never quite seen before. He saw somebody whose hair wasn�t messy and dishevelled, but wild and tangled and demanding fingers running through it. He saw clothes that weren�t baggy and oversized, but cut to expose just the right amount of skin at the base of his neck, the sharp angles and planes of his throat. He saw the way he threw his head back and thought, �that�s�that�s sexy,� instead of just thinking, as he normally did whenever he saw photographs of himself, that he was a total klutz when he moved. But now�suddenly he didn�t seem so clumsy at all.
�What is it, Malfoy?� Memory-Harry said, his voice cool and surprisingly controlled. �What do you want?�
Draco leaned across the table, blatantly disregarding the presence of Neville Longbottom, who was trying to eat in front of him and was forced to squeak and shove off to the left to get out of his way. He put his chin in his hand and batted his eyes at Harry. �I just wanted to wish you good luck next term. I�m the new Slytherin captain, you know.�
Memory-Harry leaned forward until he was right in Draco�s face. Harry didn�t remember having ever been that close to Draco Malfoy before. But there he was, right in front of him. Harry wondered if all their confrontations were like that�and then the betraying thought, Obviously not, or you�d have them more often, slipped into his brain before he could stop it.
Harry thought that the very idea of another run-in with Draco would have been enough to make him weary and unenthused. Instead he looked just the opposite�alert, eyes glittering with challenge, as if every word exchanged between them was an energy source. It was a predatory, hawk-like look, and he wore it well.
Did�had Draco done something to him that day? Harry looked around quickly to see if anybody else was noticing something different, but none of the other students seemed to suspect anything amiss�they were all looking on as if this was the kind of thing that happened between Draco and Harry all the time.
I guess, Harry thought dizzily, I guess it is.
�So?� Memory-Harry scoffed, his own eyes dancing under thick brown lashes, lowered and narrowed in hate. �Honestly, Malfoy, do you think I care? Do you think any of us do?�
Somehow the way he said this sounded a lot more stinging than Harry remembered it. So, even thought he didn�t remember how Draco had reacted to anything he had said, Harry wasn�t all that surprised when Draco recoiled, wincing a little as if Harry had actually slapped him. �Whatever, Potter,� he hissed. �You�ll care when we wipe the floor with your team next term. I just thought you deserved fair warning.� He leaned in close again, so close this time that it made Harry shiver�both Harrys. �We will take the cup next year,� he said silkily. �I�m going to be the one that makes sure of it.�
Memory-Harry parted red lips and watched his enemy, eyes roaming over his face, trying to make him out. �The day you beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,� he said, with a tone of condescension that made Harry�s cheeks start to burn, �is the day I wear a tea cosy for shorts.�
The Gryffindors around the table began to giggle and snort. Not so the actual Gryffindors watching the memory weeks later. They turned collectively to give Harry looks of horror.
�Is that so?� Draco said with his best smile. �I�ll be sure to bring the china.�
�Oh, Harry,� wailed Ginny, turning to give him a very Hermione-like �how-could-you?� look. The other Gryffindors were wearing similar looks of remonstration and dread, and Harry, in the middle of wishing he could sink into the floor, noticed something that made his pulse flutter. It was the way that Memory-Draco, quick as lightning, ran his fingers over his throat and pulled his tie just a little looser, eyes never once leaving the image of Harry as he spoke.
Harry thought in a haze of confusion, I don�t remember him doing that, and then realised with a jolt: I don�t remember it because it didn�t happen. I remember it because that�s the way he remembers it.
He felt his eyes go wide as he processed this information. He was seeing everything Draco saw. He was watching everything Draco remembered, all from Draco�s point of view. Everything he felt and saw, he saw because that was what Draco had felt and seen.
His throat suddenly dry, he turned to the real Draco, for the moment ignoring their fighting memories. Somewhere along the line the real Draco had loosened his tie as well, because it hung to the side, the top two buttons on his shirt open and exposing a (very lickable) expanse of pale, pale skin. His eyes were fastened to Harry, the real one, and he was wearing a hungry, predatory look, much like the one Memory-Draco had worn looking at Harry.
The rush of blood to Harry�s head, the sudden surge of adrenaline that made him feel overwhelmingly powerful, overwhelmingly in control of things, told him that somewhere in all of this was a store of very valuable information. This was something he could use, something he could take advantage of--something he could handle. Draco Malfoy had never been something he could handle, not really--he was something to deal with, an unpredictable powder keg, a land mine in unfamiliar territory. But now?
Now was different.
Now, Draco wanted him.
Now, Draco really wanted him.
He studied the other boy carefully, squinting past the pale blonde fringe that hung loosely into his eyes. In the background the memory was ending with Draco saying it was a shame Harry�s parents wouldn�t be there to watch the Quidditch showdown and Harry all but leaping over the table in a fiery rage before McGonagall came to separate them; but Harry knew all these things, just as he knew the outcome of the thousand fights the two of them had had over their nearly seven-year history together. He was far more interested in the things going on in Draco�s face now. Is he still seeing me the way he did then? he wondered. Does he really think that I�that I look like that?
The memory ended, and the fourteen students all found themselves rising, drifting back into the locker room, which felt suddenly small and stuffy compared to the Great Hall of only seconds before. The Gryffindors were looking uncertain, waiting for Harry�s cue. Slytherin, however, was one united front of smugness.
�It�s technically the day after we beat you at Quidditch,� said Draco with an air of supreme superiority that made Harry greatly want to rip off his face, �but we had celebrating to do so we figured we�d be generous and let that part slide.�
Grumbling ensued among the losing side. �Let�s just leave, Harry,� murmured Asha Patil.
Harry held up his hand. �Wait,� he said. He gazed into Draco�s eyes, pondering his options. �What exactly do I have to do?�
He assumed the Slytherins intended to make him strip naked and parade him around in the pink lace tea cosy that adorned the tea pot in the centre of the tea cart. It was covered in bright red roses, and was thoroughly hideous. He figured Draco had chosen the pattern for utmost humiliation.
�You have to strip down and wear that tea cosy, of course.�
�You�re out of your mind!� said Ginny, looking as if she were about to lose her lunch. Under the circumstances, Harry tried not to be too miffed that the prospect of seeing him naked was that loathsome. Perhaps it was just the tea cosy she found repulsive, and not Harry himself.
�That�s all I have to do, Malfoy?� Harry narrowed his eyes and glared at him, throwing his head back in what he hoped was a sufficiently intimidating (and�okay, fine, sexy) manner.
�That�s all, Potter.� Draco looked at him languidly, but Harry noticed his cheeks starting to tinge with a faint hint of rose.
�You swear?�
The Gryffindors let out sounds of disapproval at this, but Draco responded calmly, �Yes. I swear on Slytherin�s honour.�
�Why don�t you try swearing on something that actually exists?� muttered Seamus. Draco cast him a disdainful glance and then drew his gaze back to Harry.
�What do you say, Potter?�
Harry hesitated.
He put his hands thoughtfully in his robe pockets.
His fingers found the vial of invisible Confundus powder that Ron had only that morning given to him, thinking it would be a fine joke to put into someone�s pumpkin juice that evening at dinner.
Aha.
�Fine with me,� he said. �But let�s do the thing properly, shall we?� He indicated the cart with its fourteen teacups, steaming tea, and tray of biscuits and scones. �No sense letting all that go to waste, is there?�
Draco regarded him in suspicion, and the moment of tension stretched out between them until Harry was ready to slam him against the wall and keep him there until something interesting happened.
Instead he settled on uncorking the vial with his thumb and closing his hand around the dusting of powder that fell liberally into his palm.
Finally Draco shrugged and said, �Have it your way, then.� He moved around the tea cart to the tea pot. "Milk?" he said to Harry.
Harry eyed him and shrugged. "Sure." Draco poured from the creamer, then from the teapot, and Harry took the cup from him warily. The rest of their team-mates were watching them with some scrutiny, and Harry felt like some kind of ancient king meeting with the ruler of a rival clan.
Of course, he doubted rival clans served one another tea, but that was beside the point.
He daintily raised the tea to his lips--his other hand was still in his pocket--and sniffed. Then he sniffed again. He eyed Draco appraisingly for a moment, then stepped around the table and reached for the teapot. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him, but only watched as Harry blithely removed the lid and leaned over it.
At this Draco put a firm hand on his shoulder to halt him and cast him a withering glare. �What are you doing, Potter?�
Harry replied blandly, "I'm checking to see if you over-brewed the tea while you were off traipsing off down memory lane." He bent his nose to the steam and sniffed deeply.
Draco stared at him, the strength of his glare suggesting a thousand condescending insults at once. �No, you Muggle fool.� he said acidly. �Not all of us are as inept at the fine art of living as you seem to be.�
Harry held up his hands, palms out over the open pot, in a conciliatory manner, and said apologetically, �Sorry. Just trying to help.�
Draco, who never noticed the powder slip from Harry�s open palm behind the lid of the tea pot, snapped, �Don�t,� and turned his back on Harry to pour himself another cup.
Harry smirked, raised the teacup Draco had already poured for him and tapped him on the shoulder. When Draco turned his head begrudgingly back to him, Harry offered the teacup to him as charmingly as he knew how. "Take mine," he said sweetly. "I'm not thirsty, thanks."
Draco glared at him, and then smiled fiercely. "Fine," he said. "But I'll know if you've spat in it." He took a deep, defiant gulp of the untainted tea, and then turned his back on Harry again.
Harry tapped him again.
"Potter, I swear--"
�Sugar?� Harry countered, holding up the sugar server and fluttering his eyelashes.
�Why Potter, you little glutton for punishment,� Draco responded. �I�ll take two lumps.�
You have no idea, thought Harry, obediently spooning two lumps into the untainted cup. He was vaguely aware that the other Gryffindors were looking at him as if he�d sprouted six heads, but he was blithely unconcerned, considering that in a few moments the whole lot of them would be better than drunk and unable to remember a thing later.
He found himself strangely, wickedly looking forward to what he was about to do. More than just a little, in fact. He selfishly couldn�t wait for the look on Draco�s face when he realised. If he thought about it for too long while the others casually sipped the tea that Draco poured for him, one by one by one, until twelve cups on twelve saucers were in twelve pairs of hands, he would also realise that he was a bit afraid, too�afraid that he would start and Malfoy would freak out and run and tell the entire school, or, worse, just act bemused and plainly uninterested.
I guess I�ve got to make this good, Harry thought. And convincing.
He found himself staring at the back of Draco�s neck, at the place where the pale white skin gave way to fine silvery hair. It was smooth there, and white, surprisingly white like cream. When Draco turned around to retrieve his own cup of tea, Harry found that he was still staring. He tried unobtrusively not to notice the way Malfoy ran his finger around the rim of his cup, and darted his tongue over his lips after each sip.
Draco eyed him and said, �Well? You won't be getting out of it, you know.�
�I don�t plan on it, actually,� he countered, hoping Draco didn�t notice the fact that Harry was still riveted to his face.
�Good,� said Draco.
It wasn�t even that attractive a face, really. Just the angles of it were interesting�he had cheekbones that begged to have palms flat against them, fingers curving just over the bridge, stroking soft eyelashes. For a moment Harry saw it�saw his own stubby fingers brushing against the outer edges of Draco�s eyelids, and felt his breath hitch.
�Potter?� said Draco carefully.
Harry blinked. �Malfoy?� He hoped he didn�t look as foolish as he suspected he might.
�Scone?� said Draco weakly, as if what he was saying and what he was thinking were entirely different.
Harry recollected that right about now Draco was seeing a Harry Potter with blazing eyes, untamed hair, and furtive come-hither looks.
He took the proffered scone from Draco, just letting his fingers graze the other boy�s. This time, he deliberately shot Draco a come-hither glare, before breaking off a part of the scone and popping it casually into his mouth.
The effect on Draco was magnetic. He set the tea cup down abruptly�it clinked against the saucer�and stared straight back as Harry chewed the morsel and licked the crumbs from his fingers.
When he was done he glanced over at Draco and said smoothly, �This is delicious.�
�Er,� said Draco.
�Harry,� said Ginny, �Won�t you and Malfoy hurry up and shag and get it over with?�
She slurped her tea happily.
Draco set his saucer and cup down on the table with a much louder clink, his jaw spread wide in astonishment.
�No, we don�t want them to get it over with,� snapped Malcom Baddock fiercely, in-between a mouthful of crumble. �We want them to take their slow sweet time so we can all watch.�
Harry had always wondered about Baddock.
�Potter still has to strip first, though,� said Millicent in a dry slur. �I�m not passing up the chance to see that.�
�I think they should both strip,� said Asha Patil sweetly, running one hand over Millicent�s arm and eating a wafer with the other.
�You�re all off your top,� said Seamus. �They�ve obviously been shagging for months�if they were going to show you lot anything they�d�ve done it before now.�
Harry choked. Draco promptly knocked his teacup to the floor, where it shattered loudly (as well as in slow motion, from three different angles, but that is neither here nor there).
�Potter,� he said, his voice low with what was either intense rage or intense fear, �What is this?�
Gathering his wits about him, Harry straightened his shoulders and grinned saucily at Draco. �We�re not, actually,� he said to the others. �Shagging, that is.�
Disappointed �oh�s� from the others.
�But I do plan on doing the strip,� he said, with more jauntiness than he felt. �How about I start already?�
Heads bobbed approval around the room. Seamus propped an elbow on Malcom Baddock�s shoulder and pushed him down on a bench for a better view. Soon the other students followed suit until all except Draco were seated on benches around the room. Draco stood stock-still, staring at him with an expression of utter horror. Ironic, Harry thought, he looks more confounded than any of the rest of them.
�Why don�t you sit down, Malfoy?� Harry said pleasantly. �No sense you watching this standing up. It was your idea, after all.�
His mouth moving wordlessly, Draco sat down on the nearest bench. He seemed to be staring dully into blank space, asking what on earth was happening. His hair fell forward into his eyes, and Harry, splurging on impulse, leaned forward to brush it away from his forehead. Draco�s head snapped up then, panic darting into his eyes, and Harry, not really knowing what was going on in his head, feared for a moment an explosion of anger would follow that caged expression. Instead Draco only narrowed his eyes and glared at him.
�Whatever you�re trying to pull, Potter,� he said, his voice thick, �it won�t work.�
Harry subconsciously rubbed his fingers together, imagining-remembering the silk-smooth touch of Draco�s hair between them seconds earlier.
�Oh,� he said, a genuine new smile lighting his face, �I think it will.�
He turned to the tea cart and pulled the tea cosy over the spout, twirling it on his index finger. �There�s no way I�m going to take off my shoes on this floor,� he said, musing. �So if the rest of you don�t mind�� He took out his wand and levitated the entire tea serving, leaving only the lace tablecloth sitting on the cart. He sat down on the cart and casually pulled off his shoes, leaving his socks on for the moment. The others �oohed� and �aah�ed� appreciatively. The cart gave a little, but proved surprisingly sturdy under his weight.
�Potter,� said Draco abruptly, his voice hoarse. �What do you�you know I wasn�t serious about�you can�t�� he broke off with a despairing cry. �Potter!�
It was Harry�s turn to quirk an eyebrow. I can get to Potter, Draco had said. Fine, Malfoy, he thought with a savage satisfaction. But I can get to you.
He tossed the tea cosy on the end of the cart.
�Watch this,� he said to the Slytherin, and without another word he murmured �Musicalis,� under his breath, and began.
The song that filled the air began on a solo guitar that played a slow, exotic-sounding riff that spoke of somewhere far away, somewhere with spices and veils and incense.
For Harry the room was suddenly much smaller, narrower, consisting of only the short space between him and Draco Malfoy, whose head was leaning rather heavily against the locker behind him as he watched Harry.
Harry had no earthly idea what he was doing, but gathering his courage he began to slowly, systematically, unbutton the front of his shirt beneath his robes. He was halfway down the front of his chest when the guitar stilled, replaced by a sudden silence broken finally by a loud, insistent drum beat.
The moment the drums began, Harry shrugged his robes completely off of his shoulders, and rolled them suggestively. It was a strange, almost eerie kind of music, not something Harry would normally find particularly sexy on his own; but he could move to it. And he did. He found himself swaying, moving in time to the rhythm, letting his fingers begin to find their way around, adjusting to his movements and to the feel of his own body. As the singer began to sing, the words seemed to carry him along with them, dictating what he should do next. He found himself singing along, despite his normal restraint.
Driven by restrained desire
I want what I need
He moved his hand inside his shirt, opening the collar and exposing the tanned flesh beneath it. His tie still clung to his neck�he toyed with removing it, but finally left it instead, loosening it so the bottom of it hung down around his waist. He leaned back on the tea cart, until he was flat on his back, and if he craned his neck he could see the cluster of students staring at him from upside-down. Fighting off the desire to watch Draco�s reaction, he continued to run his hand over his own skin, pulling at the buttons until his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders and his entire torso was exposed.
Shaking as your sex takes hold
I�ve lost all control
He let his hands continue to roam over his body, curving over his sides, exploring the crevice of his hips, running over his flushed throat and cheeks. Closing his eyes it was easier to imagine it was Draco�s hands touching him this way, that it was Draco�s fingers moving nimbly inside the layers of his clothing and arching over the outside of them to caress and touch him in so many new ways.
He wanted it to be Draco.
Temptation
Temptation
Still lying down on the cart, Harry undid his trousers and reached inside to run his hands over his heated thighs, and over his erection, which tented the material far more uncomfortably than he was prepared for. Reaching for the tea cosy, he draped it casually over his chest and focused on keeping it still while his fingers squirmed to pull fabric slowly over his hipbones.
Drowning in a sea of rage
I taste the embrace
Finding the leverage he needed, he arched, catlike, off the surface of the cart, and slowly rotated his hips in time to the music, which was pulsing in his ears, demanding more.
Helpless as it steals my soul
I�ve lost all control
Slowly his trousers went the way of his robes and wound up on the floor. Harry, not caring in the headiness of the moment if he ruined any of his clothes, managed to cast the tiniest glance at Draco.
The tiniest glance was enough to discern the effect he was having.
Draco looked as if he�d been hit by a hurricane and run over with several large land vehicles. His forehead was plastered with hair and sweat, and he had slid half-way off the bench. Now he slumped there, with his mouth open and his thighs parted, and both hands gripping the tops of his trouser legs, so fiercely his knuckles had gone pink.
Temptation�it never lets me down
Temptation�one foot in the ground
The delight coursed through Harry, and centred around his waist, surging into his already significant erection. Trying not to let his pleasure show, Harry drew in his knees, slid as seductively as he knew how to a new position, and knelt on the front edge of the cart, looking right at Draco.
The tea cosy he draped coyly on top of his head.
Around him the Slytherins and Gryffindors were cheering and swearing and cat calling and doing all kinds of lewd things. Harry didn�t care about any of that; he just cared that Draco had a look in his eyes, of sin and carnality and desire. They smouldered, and Harry resisted the urge to end his striptease then and there and kiss Malfoy until he submitted to anything and everything Harry had ever wanted from him at once.
We exist in a world
Where the fear of illusion is real
Instead he took his wand and slowly ran it in long smooth patterns over his body, torso, chest, calves, stopping whenever he drew near the territory beneath his boxers.
And we cling to the past
To deny and confuse the ideal
Mouthing the words, Harry slowly stood up on the tea cart, willing Draco to understand that the past he had clung to was worlds away. His head nearly bumped the ceiling, and the tea cosy fell to the cart beside him, but from this vantage point, he could see clearly how tightly Draco�s own trousers were clinging to him, and how desperately he was struggling to cover himself with his robes.
What�s inside, we conceive,
And believe in a god we can�t feel
Keeping his wand in one hand, Harry let the other one slowly pull his necktie loose even further, stretching it out until the length of it extended almost to his groin. He began to run it slowly over his skin, and as he did he threw his head back and swayed to the music.
I can feel it
The music was powerful, the drum beat still ringing in his ears. He ran his fingers through his hair and moved his hips in time. Slowly, he pulled the tie off the rest of the way, and casually tossed it over his shoulder, where apparently the other students were ravenously fighting one another for scraps of his clothing.
I can feel it
Now swivelling, now thrusting, letting himself feel, willing his body to convey what he was feeling with every movement.
I can feel it.
All at once his eyes snapped open, and through half-lowered lids heavy with lust he found Draco�s eyes riveted to his own.
He licked his lips and thrust his hips sharply forward, just as the music hit a heavy moment of silence�silence that said for Harry better than any words could have:
This is what I will do to you.
Destined by a fate so cruel
I�m drugged to delight
Beside him in the air tea serving still floated. Drunk on the power of what he was doing, oblivious to the racket from the other Quidditch players, Harry reached for the pot of water. A murmured spell between his lips and all the warmth left it, and it was cool.
Draco�s eyes went impossibly wide then, the size of saucers. He seemed to be begging Harry not to do what he thought Harry was going to do.
Laughing as these lies unfold
Of course, Harry did it anyway.
I�ve lost all control.
The water from the upturned teapot cascaded over him, coating his hair to his forehead and running in rivulets over his body, pooling at the barrier between his hips and his shorts, plastering his boxers to his legs, drenching his skin.
Temptation�it never lets me down
Harry tossed his head, flinging water everywhere, and pressed his fingertips to his nipples, now pinker and harder than ever from having had cold water dashed over them. He tweaked them and tugged and couldn�t help the moan that escaped him.
Temptation�one foot in the ground
Nor did he miss the answering moan from Draco Malfoy.
Temptation�you satisfy my soul
Unable and unwilling to stop the triumphant smirk that spread over his face, Harry murmured one spell�the tea cosy flew into his hand�and then another:
His shorts vanished, and he draped the tea cosy over himself just as the music ended.
Temptation�I�ve lost all control.
Immediately the Gryffindors and Slytherins went into a sustained uproar, but Harry, watching Draco intently in an attempt to gauge his reaction, didn't really notice. For the last three minutes he had existed in something of a daze, lost in a reverie of sex and drums and water and Draco Malfoy's tongue constantly moistening ever-dry lips.
As the last notes of the song faded, however, he realised that he was completely naked and sporting a hard-on draped in a tea cosy.
Instantly he panicked--his cheeks went scarlet and he impulsively covered himself with both hands, clutching the cosy like a fig leaf. Awkwardly he turned around, away from Draco--only to be greeted by the entire Quidditch teams of both houses drooling and fighting over various articles of his clothing. The moment he faced them Dennis Creevey and Millicent both leaped forward with drunken cries and attempted to remove the tea cosy at the same time. Harry yelped and leaped backwards, nearly falling off the tea cart.
While they fought with each other he quickly scrambled to the floor, still in his socks, and looked uncertainly at Draco. Draco was still sitting in that half-slumped down position, eyes glued to Harry. He looked as if he'd been strictly instructed to look but not touch, and was having a hard time settling for one over the other.
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Harry found himself wishing desperately for an opportunity to reclaim his ruined clothes. He clutched the tea cosy closer to himself and tried not to quail under the look in Draco's eyes.
�I guess that takes care of that part of the bargain,� he said slowly.
Draco began to reply. It took him a moment. He looked positively bedraggled. �Potter,� he finally managed. His voice was low and dazed.
�Yes?� Harry tried desperately to contain his anticipation.
�I�m going to kiss you now.�
�Oh,� said Harry, his voice squeaking abominably. It didn�t really matter, though, because quick as a flash, Draco had reached forward and drawn Harry into his arms and was engulfing him in a kiss that made Harry�s toes curl. Around them the Gryffindors and Slytherins whooped and hollered, but Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and kept them there, feeling the kiss smooth inside of him and warming him like a favourite blanket.
�Draco,� he murmured.
�Potter,� murmured Draco.
�Draco?� he said muzzily, stupidly kissing Draco�s ear, then stupidly kissing Draco�s cheek, then stupidly cradling his jaw and brushing his fingers against Malfoy�s eyelids just the way he�d envisioned it.
�Harry,� gasped Draco. �Whatever you were trying to do, it worked.�
As he pulled Harry into another kiss, their team-mates cheered them on, and the tea cosy slipped unnoticed to the floor.
The song is �Temptation,� from the Tea Party album Transmission. The phrase, "a most disquieting tea," is the property of Telanu.