a . g o o d . i d e a . a t . t h e . t i m e

A Good Idea at the Time
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: "Oh, no, Potter. I want to make sure you know exactly who's got his hand on your prick right now."

Notes: Written for Marks in the Pornish Pixies Fantasy fest. She requested: H/D, any filthy location - bathroom, Hermione's bed, Lucius's study. Not hate sex or non-con, boys having sex like boys, Draco as reluctant submissive (secretly loving it). Prefer mutual handjobs or oral, but the sex must be frantic, desperate, etc. I know, me! Writing Harry/Draco! Shocking! Thanks to Mousapelli for the beta. Special thanks to Sullen Siren for coming up with "caught the snitch and off the pitch" and letting me use it. *g*

Word count: 3,282

Date: May 10, 2005

Harry had just settled into a good rhythm, hand stroking over his aching cock, when the door to Ron's bedroom opened and closed. The click when it shut was exceptionally loud in the deep silence of the room. Harry scrambled to cover himself with the blanket and sat up.

Malfoy's blond hair gleamed silver in the moonlight, which Harry hoped wasn't bright enough to show how much he was blushing. Malfoy didn't seem to notice. He flung himself down on Ron's bed, which creaked in protest.

"I just saw the Weasel sneaking into his sister's room. So has he finally got into Granger's knickers, then?"

"What?" Harry asked hoarsely, images of Ron and Hermione flashing across his brain.

In the dark, Harry couldn't see it, but from his tone, he was pretty sure Malfoy was rolling his eyes. "Even Weasleys don't shag their own sisters, Potter. Ergo, he and the Mud-- I mean, Granger must be having it off."

"Yeah. For a few weeks now." Harry shook himself, trying to get his mind into the conversation. "You should probably go back to your room."

"My room," Malfoy snorted, "is the size of my closet at home. The ceiling is water-stained, the bed creaks and the sheets are all nubbly."

Harry frowned. His sheets were worn, but soft. "You should be thankful the Weasleys are letting you stay here, since you have nowhere else to go. Though maybe there's a family discount at Azkaban, so you could join your dad? I hear it's awful this time of year."

"As soon as we get the house back from the werewolf your godfather was fucking--"

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath even as he reached for the wand under his pillow. "Sirius's will was very clear," he interrupted loudly. "The house is mine and I'm letting Professor Lupin stay there." Not that he thought Lupin wanted to stay there, but like Harry, like Malfoy, he didn't have anywhere else to go. Harry would have been there, too, except Mrs. Weasley had insisted he spend part of the summer at the Burrow.

"Sirius Black was a blood traitor and a murderer," Malfoy began in that same bored yet scornful voice, and Harry knew he should let it go, but the pain was still too new and raw to be ignored.

"Murderer? Your aunt is a fucking murderer," Harry snarled, launching himself at Malfoy, wand forgotten. Ron's bed creaked again as Harry attempted to get hold of Malfoy and choke the life out of him, but Malfoy's pajamas were slick under his hands, and he couldn't get a grip. "What the fuck are you wearing?" he asked incredulously.

Malfoy sniffed, though his hair was mussed and his eyes were wide, and they were both breathing heavily. "That's expensive Italian silk you're mangling, Potter."

Harry looked down at Malfoy's tailored blue silk pajamas with white piping, and then at his own ratty Arsenal t-shirt and grotty track shorts, and collapsed on top of Malfoy, laughing.

"I don't see what you're laughing about," Malfoy muttered, his breath warm against Harry's ear. "You've got some shite Muggle band emblazoned on your chest."

That only made Harry laugh harder. He buried his face in the crook of Malfoy's neck, breathing in warm soap-scented skin, sort of enjoying the feel of silk under his fingers, and soft-hard planes and hollows of Malfoy's body beneath his.

Malfoy shifted, and Harry could feel his erection against his thigh. It would be so easy, he thought, and before he'd even finished thinking it, he pressed his open mouth to Malfoy's throat, pale stubble rough against his tongue.

Malfoy's hands fisted in his hair and yanked his head up, and Harry thought he was really in for it now, because he'd just licked Draco Malfoy's neck. Oddly enough, the thought didn't make him queasy; instead, he felt a pleasurable squirm in his belly and the hot throb of his cock, which, after all, had been aching for attention since before Malfoy'd even shown up.

But Malfoy just pulled him close and kissed him, soft, full lips tasting of heat and toothpaste, instead of bitterness and scorn like Harry expected. While they were kissing, Malfoy tangled their legs and tried to roll them over, but Harry let himself go limp, a dead weight Malfoy didn't have enough leverage to maneuver. Malfoy broke the kiss to mutter something, but Harry just laughed, which turned into a gasp as Malfoy shoved his hand into Harry's shorts to curl his fingers round his prick.

"Bit of a brag on the shirt. Not much of an arsenal here. Small arms, at best. Weasley's bigger than you are."

Harry didn't want to know, but somehow the words came out anyway. "How do you know Ron is--"

"Hung like a horse?" Malfoy snickered. "Everybody knows. Ogling the players is extra incentive to make the Quidditch team, you know. And I reckon it makes up for being a--" Harry stopped him with a kiss, but when he pulled away, Malfoy picked up talking as if he hadn't stopped. "Guess you know firsthand, though, huh?"

Harry did. He and Ron had wanked together a few times, and Harry'd enjoyed it until Ron mentioned maybe letting Hermione join them; while Harry found the idea incredibly arousing, he also thought it would be terribly awkward in ways he and Ron weren't. It hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about it, though.

He pushed that out of his mind and said, "I think this will work better if you don't talk."

"Oh, no, Potter. I want to make sure you know exactly who's got his hand on your prick right now, even if we are in the Weasel's bed." Malfoy began stroking firmly, with a little twist on the upstroke. It felt so good, Harry gasped and almost lost the thread of conversation. But even though everything was hazy without his glasses, he could see the bright fall of blond against Ron's pillow, and he knew that even with his eyes closed, he wouldn't be able to see anyone else beneath him.

"I know who you are, Malfoy," he managed, though it didn't have quite the bite he was hoping for, because his voice was a whisper, thready and hoarse with desire. "Which is why I think you should shut up."

Malfoy's grey eyes glittered and his lips, glistening from their last kiss, curved in an insolent grin. "Then give me something better to do with my mouth."

"Cheeky bastard," Harry muttered before covering Malfoy's mouth with his own in a heated tangle of tongues and teeth, so different from the damp, tentative kisses he'd shared with Cho last year. Malfoy squirmed against him, and Harry took the hint, shoving a hand beneath the waistband of those ridiculous silk pajamas to curl around his prick.

It was awkward, and with the small part of his brain that hadn't melted yet, he figured it was safe to roll to the side. Malfoy yelped when Harry pulled too hard, and Harry muttered an apology, ears burning, embarrassment replacing arousal for a few seconds. Harry was suddenly aware that he'd only ever done this with Ron, which had been exciting, but also comfortable in a way this wasn't. This was dangerous, exhilarating, and possibly a huge mistake. He didn't care. He just hoped he was doing it right, because if there was anything more embarrassing than having his hand down Malfoy's pants, it would be bollocksing the whole thing up. Given the soft sounds Malfoy was making, Harry thought he must be doing all right.

Malfoy shifted to face him, his head tipped back as he gasped for air when Harry increased the pace of his stroking, and the elegant curve of his throat, white in the darkness, made the breath hitch again in Harry's chest.

"Come on," he urged roughly, determined to make Malfoy come first. "Ron'll be back soon."

"Caught the snitch and off the pitch, eh? Not surpri--hmph."

Harry cut him off with another fierce kiss, closing his eyes against the tide of pleasure rising through his body. He was so close, hips bucking into Malfoy's hand, his own hand furiously pumping Malfoy's prick, more instinct than skill. He broke away because he couldn't breathe, heat and need and lack of air setting off sparks at the edge of his vision.

"I, oh, please, oh, God, oh fuck--" The world went white behind his eyes, pleasure pulsing through him and out, spangling Malfoy's pajamas with come. He could feel its warmth against his hand through the silk as he gave Malfoy's cock one last jerk. Malfoy moaned and shuddered against him, almost beautiful in that moment of release.

When he was done, Malfoy withdrew his hand from Harry's shorts and brought it to his mouth, sliding each long, elegant finger, sticky with come, through his kiss-swollen lips.

"Fuck," Harry said when he could speak again, shocked at this display, and yet feeling his cock respond already.

Malfoy gave one last slurp and pulled his finger out of his mouth with a wet pop. "That's the general idea, yeah. You really are thick." But his voice lacked its usual sharp edge.

Harry shook his head, swallowing hard, and Malfoy laughed.

"Shut up," Harry murmured, and leaned in to kiss him again, tasting himself on Malfoy's tongue. Without breaking the kiss, Harry reached across him to find the box of tissues on the night table.

Things were heating up again, and Harry was oblivious to everything but the taste and texture of Malfoy's tongue in his mouth. The sound of the door creaking open and closed was like a thunderclap, and they sprang apart, startled, to find Ron looming over them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock.

"You'll catch flies like that, Weasley," Malfoy said, swinging his legs around and sitting up. Harry shoved him, but not hard enough to make him fall off the bed. He got up and walked to the door, grimacing. Harry couldn't blame him -- he had a large, wet stain on the front of his pajamas. Halfway out the door, he turned, smirking, and said, "Sorry about the mess. I'm sure you and Potter can clean it up." And then he was gone.

Harry looked back at Ron, whose mouth was now opening and closing soundlessly, as if he had so much to say that he couldn't decide where to begin. Harry could feel his face burning, and all he wanted to do was slink off and hide, but he owed Ron an explanation. For wanking in his bed, if nothing else.

"I can't believe you-- with Malfoy-- in my bed--" Ron began.

"I, um, we-- It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said sheepishly.

"In my bed?" Ron repeated.

Harry pushed a hand through his hair, casting about for something to say. "Um... Sorry?"

Ron snorted and dropped down onto Harry's bed. "I hear he gives great head."

Harry stared at him, red hair bleached almost gold in the moonlight. "How do you know that?"

"Everybody knows it."

"I didn't. Nobody tells me anything!"

Ron wouldn't meet his eyes. "So you didn't--"

"No. It was just-- wanking."

"Well," Ron said with a falsely hearty laugh, "there's always the next time."

"I reckon," Harry replied, sinking slowly down onto Ron's rumpled, messy bed.

"You sleep over there tonight," Ron said, curling up on Harry's bed. "And make sure the mess is tidied before Mum comes up to make the beds." Harry flushed again, horrified. Though Mrs. Weasley surely must know, he thought. She had six sons. "Night," Ron mumbled around a huge yawn.

"Night," Harry answered, heading to the bathroom to clean himself up. And maybe have another wank, thinking about Malfoy's lips wrapped around his cock, sucking the way he'd sucked his fingers earlier.

***

It was surprisingly easy to convince Mrs. Weasley to take them all to Diagon Alley. Ron had mentioned Harry's birthday, and Harry had said he wished to go. He offered to treat the family to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, asked if perhaps Tonks and Lupin might join them. Mrs. Weasley had obviously been torn between agreeing to everything he asked and telling him it wasn't safe at all, but after a flurry of discussion with Dumbledore and Moody, she agreed they could go.

Even if they had to take Malfoy with them. He was coldly polite to Mrs. Weasley, his mouth curled in a sneer that seemed both familiar and strange to Harry, as if he'd seen it before, on someone else's face. Malfoy strolled along in their wake, always leaving a bit of distance between himself and any Weasleys, and Harry knew that arrangement was preferred by all. He kept an eye out, though, because even though Malfoy had agreed to be on his best behavior, Harry didn't trust him.

Which was how he came to be watching when Malfoy skived off as Mrs. Weasley herded everyone into Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was excitedly telling Ginny about some new book or other, and Ron was smiling indulgently at her, no doubt recalling whatever it was they'd done the night before. Harry found himself wondering about that a bit too much for his own comfort, and looked away, to see Malfoy heading for Fortescue's.

He tried to be unobtrusive as he followed Malfoy into the ice cream parlor, but there wasn't exactly a whole lot of space to hide. Malfoy got his order -- a plain vanilla cone -- and sat down at a table in the back to eat it. Harry ordered something for himself, but didn't really pay attention to it -- he was too busy watching Malfoy lick at his own ice cream, tongue pink against its creamy whiteness. Heat pooled low in Harry's belly, and he bit his lower lip to keep from making any kind of noise, but he couldn't stop himself.

Malfoy looked up and gave him a wicked smile, all white teeth and red lips. A bit of ice cream dripped from the corner of his mouth and, his eyes never leaving Harry's, he wiped it away with his thumb and then licked it clean, briefly sliding it into his mouth.

Harry made a strangled sound, absently binned his half-eaten chocolate-raspberry cone, and walked over to Malfoy's table. "Let's go," he muttered, grabbing Malfoy's arm.

Malfoy raised a knowing eyebrow. "Go where?"

Harry scanned the small shop, and-- "There," he said. "The gents'."

"I'm not done," Malfoy protested as Harry pulled him along. He licked at the ice cream melting down the sides of the cone.

Harry let loose a low growl, surprising them both, and plucked the cone out of his hand, tossing it into the bin as they entered the loo. "I've a better use for your mouth."

The door swung shut behind them and Harry locked it, wishing he could use magic.

"Such a sudden descent into debauchery, Potter. What would your adoring fans say if they knew?"

"Shut up."

"You dragged me in here, so you must want the pleasure of my company."

Harry grunted in frustration. It was amazing that even Malfoy's taunting couldn't dispel his raging hard-on. "I didn't bring you in here to talk." Harry leaned against the wall and tried to push Malfoy down to his knees.

Malfoy laughed. "Do you really think I'm that easy?"

Harry pulled him close for a kiss, tasting vanilla cool and sweet on his tongue. Malfoy didn't pull away, and kissed him back eagerly enough, sucking Harry's tongue into his mouth, making Harry's toes curl. Harry reached down between them to cup Malfoy's erection, squeezing just enough to make him moan into Harry's mouth.

"Yes," Harry answered breathlessly when they came up for air. "Now, come on. Mrs. Weasley's going to notice we're gone soon."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "The tile's filthy. I'm not getting down there."

"Yeah, you are," Harry replied, pushing again on Malfoy's shoulders to force him to his knees. His cock ached at the thought of Malfoy sucking him off, and he was not going to be thwarted now.

"I'll, I'll scream," Malfoy threatened. That checked Harry for a moment, because he'd thought Malfoy wanted it as much as he did. But Harry wasn't holding him and he made no move to get away.

Harry laughed, then. "No, you won't. If you do, Fortescue will come in here and see you, the disgraced heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, molesting the famous Harry Potter." Harry liked to believe Sirius would approve on some level. "Who do you think they're going to believe if our stories are different?"

That brought Malfoy up short, and he raised an eyebrow, looking impressed in spite of himself. He went to his knees easily, and Harry unzipped his jeans with a triumphant smile.

Malfoy wet his lips as and then bent to lick at the head of Harry's cock, already beaded with precome and-- "Fuck." Harry slammed his head back against the wall, not sure if the stars behind his eyelids were because of that or from the way Malfoy took the head into his mouth and sucked, tongue swirling along the slit. Probably a little bit of both, he decided, while he was still able to think.

Malfoy's mouth was soft and slick as the silk he'd worn last night, and Harry couldn't keep himself from thrusting into its tight heat. He threaded his hands through Malfoy's hair, and one of Malfoy's hands was gripping Harry's thigh so tightly Harry was sure he'd be bruised later, but now the pain just made the pleasure sweeter. Malfoy's other hand slipped inside his trousers so he could stroke himself, and the fact that Malfoy was getting off on sucking him was too much for Harry. He came hard, spilling himself down Malfoy's throat, and Malfoy swallowed it greedily and licked his lips afterward before shuddering to his own release, eyes closed and mouth open in a wide O. Harry slipped to his knees and leaned forward to swallow the soft sounds he made as he came with a kiss, once again enjoying the taste of himself on Malfoy's tongue.

"Er, thanks," he said hoarsely when he broke the kiss.

Malfoy gave a small huff of laughter and brushed his thumb over Harry's lower lip almost tenderly, which seemed to call for another kiss.

He'd completely lost track of how long they'd been in there when the lock clicked and the door opened slowly.

"Harry? Are you-- Oh."

Bill stood in the doorway, and Harry felt himself flush all the way down to his toes. Malfoy rose fluidly, but the front of his trousers was stained, and he looked thoroughly debauched, even as his lips settled into his habitual sneer. Harry was sure he didn't look any better, and his flies were still undone.

Bill's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. He closed the door behind him, murmured a few cleaning spells, and said, "Mum's looking for you two." Harry opened his mouth but Bill shook his head. "Don't worry. I won't tell. You should just be glad it wasn't the twins."

The thought of that made Harry and Malfoy both shudder.

What had seemed like such a great idea a few minutes ago now looked like quite the stupidest thing he'd done since... last night. On the other hand, the prospect of having Malfoy's mouth wrapped around his cock as often as possible once they returned to school made everything seem a little brighter, and he was able to face Bill's twinkling eyes, Ron's blushes and Mrs. Weasley's lecture with aplomb.

Harry couldn't help but hope that things were finally looking up.

end

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