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Potions Professor Pursuit

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As Harry readied himself for his and Draco’s Sunday reading-- sometimes shagging-- ritual, he glanced at the bound book of parchment. He’d been writing only sporadically since he and Draco began dating, but the newest story was nearly complete. He was ready for Draco to read and critique it. The story had been particularly fun to write, especially the sexy parts. Though Harry himself was twenty by the time he had sex for the first time, Liam, his character was fairly active at sixteen.
He grabbed the book of parchment along with the title he purchased in Diagon Alley. He strolled up the staircase, looking forward, not only to cuddling on the couch with Draco, but their supper with Ron and Hermione. He had purchased a special bottle of wine to serve in celebration.
Draco pulled Harry into a hug and a lingering kiss the moment he opened the door.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry. I had to get a couple of things done first.” Harry kissed his neck.
“I’ve got to have you,” Draco whispered.
“What about McGonagall?” Harry breathed back.
“The old bat can find her own man to shag.”
Harry chuckled, then moaned as Draco’s hand found his crotch. Without giving it a second thought, Harry ground against it, soon becoming hard.
“Draco, we shouldn’t,” his words said. However, his body screamed shag me now.
“I know. I thought about you all night,” Draco told him. “I wanted to wank but I held off. It won’t take long.”
“We really shouldn’t,” Harry repeated, unzipping his fly and dropping his trousers. He bent over the arm of the settee.
“I know. Accio lube,” Draco shouted quickly before Harry changed his mind.
A swift swipe over Harry’s arse and his own cock, and Draco plunged in. Harry cried out from the force.
“Ah, yes, fuck me hard. Hurry. Hurry.”
Slamming his hips into Harry’s arse repeatedly, Draco panted and groaned. As he leaned farther against Harry, he pinned him to the arm rest. The more Draco rocked them, the more friction Harry felt on his cock.
“Good. Good,” Harry murmured. “Faster.”
Draco obeyed gladly. They lurched and reeled together, picking up speed until Harry let loose. Pearly white cum pooled on the couch in front of him while he whimpered.
Not far behind him, Draco came hard. “Oh, fuck, Harry.”
They stood, still and panting, for as long as they dared, knowing there was a possibility someone could come by at any moment.
“We shouldn’t have,” Harry sighed. “But that was bloody brilliant.”
A simple Scourgify, and they zipped up trying to make themselves look presentable. Harry lay back on the settee and patted his chest for Draco to lean on.
Draco looked up and grinned. “That was . . . exciting. Wondering if any minute someone would knock and catch us.” A small shiver went through his spine.
“Are you sure Rita Skeeter made up all that stuff about you? You seem to like it a bit kinky,” Harry said.
“Yes, it seems I do. But you’re the one who dropped his trousers first. Not to mention the ropes . . .”
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Harry said.
“Oh, I’m not. I merely find it amusing that the Gryffindor appears to be corrupting the Slytherin.”
Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Draco. “Funny you should mention that.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the book I brought today is a novel about a man who seduces a younger, virtuous man and turns his life upside down.”
“A novel, eh? Got tired of reading about Quidditch matches and history?” Draco asked.
“We were falling asleep in the middle of reading more than we were shagging,” Harry laughed. “I figured a change of reading material was in order.”
“Then we’re doing this a bit arse about face, aren’t we? Unless you’re planning another go ‘round.”
Harry was about retort when a knock came on the door.
“Fuck. I hate being on duty,” Draco grumbled and got up from the couch to answer the door.
“Yes?”
“Professor Malfoy, come quickly,” a fair-haired girl in a Ravenclaw jumper begged.
“What’s wrong?”
“Joseph Albright is stuck in a painting.”
“Stuck in a pai-- how the bloody hell did he do that?”
“I don’t know. I was walking past and he called out to me. Please help us.”
Suddenly, Harry appeared at Draco’s side. “You’d better go and see. Shall I come with you?”
“No, that’s all right. I think I can manage.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll be in my quarters then. Don’t forget about supper later.”
“Okay.” To the student, Draco said, “Come on, Rhonwen, show me which painting the berk is in.”
Harry and Draco went separate ways down different corridors. Back in his quarters, Harry got down to grading papers. He had quite a bit of time to kill before Ron and Hermione were scheduled to arrive.
Joseph Albright was successfully retrieved from the painting after a several hours, and received quite a scolding for it from the original inhabitants. Draco found out that several student had been playing a game of hide and seek in the castle. Joseph panicked when he was about to be caught and in a desperate attempt to cast a disillusionment spell on himself, he accidently banished himself into the painting.
“You’re lucky Rhonwen came by,” Draco shook his head in disapproval. “You could have been stuck in there for a very long time. And you’re lucky I was able to get you out at all. It’s tricky business.”
“Yes sir,” Joseph said. “But I had to do something, or Dirk would have found me.”
“So?”
“Well, the losers have to act as servants of the winners.”
“And that was worth risking spending the rest of your life playing cards with this lot?” Draco asked.
“Hmph!” One of the prickly old men at the card table scoffed. “He should be so lucky.”
“Off with you, now. You’ve made me miss lunch, and supper isn’t for another hour and a half. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”
“Yes, professor,” the student replied, his head hung in embarrassment. He left and headed for the Ravenclaw dormitories.
Draco went back to his quarters, disappointed that Harry wouldn’t be there. But he and his friends would be arriving later with food. When Draco got back, he picked up a green apple from his fruit bowl to tide him over until supper. It was then that he noticed the book of parchment on the side table next to the novel Harry brought.
He sat down on the settee and leafed through the book. Harry didn’t mention it, but he must have wanted Draco to read it. Settling back on a pillow, Draco started at the beginning and read.

 

***

 

Knock, knock, knock.
Draco’s eyes flew open.
“Shit.”
“Draco? Are you there?”
The book slid off Draco’s chest and landed on the floor with a thud.
“Shit.”
“Draco?”
“Coming,” Draco called. “Just a minute.”
He hadn’t intended to fall asleep. It wasn’t that Harry’s story wasn’t interesting. It was habit to fall asleep while reading on the sofa with Harry, and it seemed that habit was fairly ingrained at this point.
Draco got up and walked straight to the mirror.
“Fucking hell,” he said, trying to smooth out his hair. He grabbed a tie and quickly put it back into a ponytail.
He straightened his shirt and pulled his jeans up a little higher. He didn’t have time to make himself more presentable and it was killing him. When he opened the door, Harry appeared a little put out.
“Sorry,” Draco mumbled. “I fell asleep. Come on in.”
After closing the door behind Ron and Hermione, he tried to casually pick up a few stray items on the floor, including Harry’s book of parchment. He felt at a disadvantage, but it was his own fault. He knew that.
“We brought take Chinese take away,” Ron said. “Do you like that?”
Looking to Harry, Draco shrugged.
“You’ve never had it?” Harry asked.
“No. My parents never ordered muggle take away, of course. And since I’ve been on my own, I’ve only tried pizza and cheeseburgers. That never looked particularly appetizing.”
Ron’s mouth drew into a small frown.
“But I’ll give it a try,” Draco added. “Shall I expand this table?” he asked Hermione, mainly.
“Why don’t we just sit on the floor around the coffee table?” She suggested.
“Good idea,” Harry said. He and Ron put the food and plates down.
Hermione smiled as she skewered a dumpling with a chopstick. “Ron didn’t want to try it at first, either. Now he loves it.”
“Same here,” Harry said. “Especially this stuff,” he grinned as he scooped out some lo mein onto his plate.
Draco’s nostrils flared slightly in disgust for the slimy looking brown noodle dish.
“Here,” Harry said holding a noodle between a pair of chopsticks. “Try it.” He dangled it in front of Draco’s mouth.
Glancing at Ron, then Hermione, Draco questioned Harry. “Do you seriously expect me to let you feed me in front of . . .” he trailed off.
“Yes,” Harry grinned. He wiggled the noodle and let it brush against Draco’s lower lip. “Come on,” he teased, giving a pleading, puppy dog look.
Draco rolled his eyes and reluctantly opened his mouth. The noodle was just out of reach, and he had to use his tongue to catch it. He watched Harry as he did. He noticed that Harry’s mouth was slightly mimicking his own. Playing it up, Draco attempted to wrap the noodle around his tongue, then sucked it between his lips with a loud slurp. When the end of the noodle finally whipped around, splashing a bit of sauce on Draco’s face, Harry was staring at him as though he were the meal.
A quick glance over at Ron and Hermione told Draco they had been watching him as well. While Hermione seemed to actually enjoy the show, Ron looked a bit ill.
Harry however, leaned forward and licked the sauce off Draco’s lips, nearly knocking him off balance. The Potions professor gently pushed him back.
“Harry,” he said, mortified at Harry’s behavior in front of his friends.
“You had a bit of sauce,” Harry grinned and pointed to his own lip.
“You could have just told me.”
“After that performance? Not a chance.”
Draco blushed. He had momentarily forgotten Ron and Hermione were in the room when he teased Harry with his noodle eating skills. He thought perhaps he had taken it a little too far.
Ron cleared his throat. “Uh, dumplings?” He held out the carton to Harry.
Taking it as a sign that his friend was less than comfortable, Harry took the food container and put a dumpling on Draco’s plate. He then continued to put samples of everything for him to try.
“How am I supposed to eat this?” Draco asked.
“Chopsticks,” Hermione smiled. She clicked them together in her hand.
Sighing, Draco admitted that he’d never used them before.
“No problem,” she said. “Here, you hold them between these fingers.”
Hermione placed the chopsticks in Draco’s hand and showed him how to move his hand to open and close them. As she did, he glanced down at her hand.
“That’s lovely,” he commented.
“Oh Merlin! I almost forgot,” she laughed. “The whole reason we wanted to come see you, Harry.” She held out her left hand for him to see.
“The crazy girl said yes. Can you imagine wanting to be a Weasley?” Ron chuckled.
Draco suppressed a snort. He could, in fact, not imagine wanting to be a Weasley.
“She’s practically been one for years,” Harry said.
“It’s a beautiful setting,” Draco commented. “May I see it?”
Puzzled that a man would truly be interested in an engagement ring, Hermione held her hand up for him.
He gently took her hand and turned it this way and that.
“White gold or platinum?”
“Uh, white gold,” Ron replied.
“Unusual setting,” Draco said, looking more closely. “Looks to be about a third of a carat? The filigree detailing on the side is exquisite. And this . . . is this a pink sapphire hidden on the side there?”
“Yeah,” Ron said slowly, his brow furrowed.
“How do you know so much about jewelry?” Hermione asked, impressed with Draco’s knowledge.
“I’m a pureblood. It was my job to know these things. Present a woman with the wrong ring and you’d get a slap on the face rather than a yes, and be a laughing stock.”
The other three exchanged glances.
“Of course, I learned all that useless stuff before I officially came out. Besides, anyone can appreciate fine jewelry,” he added defensively.
“By the wrong ring, you mean inexpensive,” Ron scoffed.
“Not necessarily,” Draco corrected him. “Though to some, price is all that matters. Mother taught me that jewelry should suit the person wearing it, regardless of worth.”
“That’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione questioned.
“You’d think. Like I said, price is a factor. But you probably wouldn’t want a garish two carat blue diamond set in yellow gold. Your hands are small and delicate. A ring like that would overpower you. A man asking for your hand should know what suits you.”
“And?” Hermione queried, holding up her hand again, wiggling her fingers.
Harry held his breath, unsure of Draco’s response.
Draco smiled. “It suits you perfectly.”
Ron let out a sigh, and Harry realized he wasn’t the only one holding his breath.
Standing, Harry held his arms wide. “Congratulations you two.”
Hermione and Ron enveloped Harry in a familiar three-way hug. Sitting in his place on the floor, Draco began to feel more and more awkward, so he stood. When the trio broke apart, Draco offered his own congratulations.
He held his hand out to Ron.
Looking at the offered hand, Ron hesitated. Never had he imagined shaking hands with a family enemy. Harry once again found himself holding his breath.
“Congratulations, We-Ron.”
“Thanks,” Ron answered, taking the hand. He gave two quick, firm pumps, then let go.
Draco turned awkwardly toward Hermione. In his circles, congratulations weren’t offered to the girl. She was the prize, won by the gentleman. Therefore, the congratulations went to him for his successful wooing.
Besides, he wasn’t quite so sure congratulations were in order for catching a Weasley.
“Best wishes, Hermione,” Draco said easily enough. He found it a smoother transition from Granger to Hermione than Weasley to Ron. “You’ll make a lovely bride.”
He held out his hand to her, but when she returned the gesture, he brought it to his lips and kissed it.
Hermione giggled. “Who knew you were such a gentleman?”
“Oh, damn,” Harry said suddenly. “I forgot the wine. I bought wine for our dinner. I’ll just go and fetch it quickly.”
“Uh, I’ll go with you,” Ron said and hurried to catch up with him. He caught the look on Hermione’s face as he abandoned her. He knew he’d pay for it later.
Alone with Draco Malfoy since . . . since never, she realized. Hermione sat back down at the coffee table, prompting Draco to do the same.
“Have you made any plans yet?” he asked, poking at some lo mein.
“You mean wedding plans? Not really.”
“You must have some idea what sort of wedding you want,” he prodded.
“Well . . . I have always wanted a Christmas wedding,” she replied shyly. For some reason she was embarrassed to admit she had been dreaming of her wedding day. “There’s something about new fallen snow and all the beautiful lights. It just makes a wedding more festive.”
Draco nodded. “I’ve been to a few Christmas weddings. But don’t you think the holiday would overshadow your special day? And your anniversary ever after that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Ron and I haven’t even discussed it much anyway. This Christmas is much too soon, and I don’t want to wait a whole year. What about you? Have you thought about your wedding some day?” she asked. She deftly picked up a piece of sauce covered shrimp with her chopsticks.
Taken by surprise, Draco had to think about it. “I . . . did when I was young, and idealistic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Back when I thought my life was going to be that of an ordinary pureblood, and I would be doing all the things that were expected of me,” he replied. “I thought I would marry a wealthy pureblood girl, have a few children. Perhaps get a job in the Ministry. Those were the things I thought I would be doing, when I was too young to recognize the true nature of my life.”
Hermione shifted in her spot uncomfortably. She figured he was speaking not only about his homosexuality, but of his involvement in the war.
“How . . . old were you when you did realize?” she asked tentatively.
Draco raised his eyebrows at her question, surprised by the personal nature of it. The corner of his mouth rose slightly at the memory.
“I had always suspected I was different from other boys. But it wasn’t until my first kiss that I knew for certain. I suppose I should say, my first almost kiss.”
Hermione smiled shyly. It was strange to hear Draco talk about ordinary, sweet things like first kisses.
He paused. “Do you actually want to hear the story?”
“Yes, I would. I’m quite curious now.”
“It’s not really much of a story. It was at a wedding. I had just turned eleven. A few weeks before coming to Hogwarts. My mother noticed that I wasn’t socializing and she encouraged me to dance with the other children. I did, reluctantly. But then the music slowed down and we all just sort of looked at each other. The adults began pairing together or walking off the dance floor. I heard someone ask me if I wanted to dance. She was a pretty girl a little older than me. We danced, very awkwardly I might add. At the end of the song, she led me to the balcony.”
Hermione seemed on the edge of her seat, waiting to hear what happened next. It sounded incredibly romantic. However, she knew it couldn’t have ended well, seeing as Draco wasn’t interested in girls.
“Did she kiss you there?” she asked.
“No,” Draco laughed. “She practically pounced on me. I suppose I could have been kinder to her. But I pushed her away, hard, and wiped my mouth rather dramatically, even though she’d barely managed to touch my lips.”
Holding her hands up to cover her smile, Hermione said, “Oh, no. What did she do?”
“She called me a little pouf and stormed off. At first, I was angry that she called me that. Basically, I hid in a corner for the rest of the reception. But near the end, an older boy came over to me and asked if what the girl said was true. I didn’t know what to say.”
“And?” Hermione prodded. She was looking for a happy ending.
Smiling, Draco satisfied her curiosity. “He kissed my cheek and told me I was adorable.” He blushed and glanced down at his fidgeting fingers.
“That’s all?” Hermione pouted.
“I was eleven. What did you think was going to happen? I told you it wasn’t much of a story.” He wavered. “But the way I felt watching him walk away . . . it made me realize that the girl was right. I was definitely a pouf.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I’ve never told anyone that story,” he said softly.
“Harry’s right,” Hermione said. “You have changed. Well, at least how we perceived you has changed.”
“No, I have actually changed in many ways.” He laughed. “But Harry can tell you, in some ways I am exactly the same. I’m still the jealous sort.”
“And what do you have to be jealous of?” she questioned. She meant it to be a light hearted query. She couldn’t image that he would be jealous of anyone. He was rich, handsome and dating the most famous wizard of their generation.
“Harry has many admirers,” he commented somberly. “Most without an undesirable past.”
“Are you talking about someone in particular?”
Draco’s silence told her he was.
Trying to reassure him, she said, “I’ve noticed the way Harry looks at you, and the way he speaks about you. He’s happy, truly happy. I believe it’s because of you.”
“I’d like to think so. Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“What the devil is this thing?” He held up a piece of fried tofu. “It looks like a sponge.”
She burst out laughing, thinking that he was going to ask her something a bit more personal.

***

 

“Hermione’s going to kill me for leaving her with Malfoy,” Ron said, for the third time.
“Maybe not. He doesn’t bite, you know,” Harry said. “At least not that hard,” he grinned.
“Ugh. I don’t want to hear about it, mate.”
Harry laughed as the two friends made their way down to Harry’s quarters to get the wine Harry had gotten to celebrate.
“Oh, hi Harry.” Suddenly, Knox appeared coming the other way.
“Hey,” Harry nodded, intending to walk on by.
Knox stopped, partially blocking Ron’s way.
“Aren’t you . . .”
“Knox, this is my friend Ron.”
“Ron Weasley?” Knox looked him up and down. “Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake. “Harry has told me some amazing stories about you. About all of you.”
“Um, thanks. You’re new here?”
“Yes, the new Charms professor. Knox is the name.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Well, we should get moving,” Harry said.
“Having a visit, just the two of you?” Knox asked.
“No, our friend Hermione is here as well.” Harry chuckled. “I mean fiancée. Ron and Hermione got engaged last weekend and we’re celebrating with some wine and Chinese take away.”
“Oh, my school in America was near this great muggle Chinese restaurant. We used to sneak out and go there occasionally,” Knox said.
“Are you on your own tonight?” Harry asked him.
“Yeah,” Knox answered, a hopeful expression on his face.
Sensing that Harry was about invite the other man to their private party, Ron interrupted. “We’d better get that wine before Mione and Draco wonder where we are.” He deliberately made sure to use his former enemy’s first name.
“Right,” Harry said. “Well, see you later, Knox.”
“Bye Harry.” Knox watched them walk away.
Ron held his tongue as long as he could, until they stepped into Harry’s room.
“Was that the bloke you told me about?”
“What bloke?” Harry walked to his liquor cabinet.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Ron said sternly.
Harry sighed. “Ron, it’s nothing. He’s just a nice fellow.”
“You were going to invite him up to Malfoy’s room, weren’t you?”
“No,” Harry replied, trying to sound indignant.
“Yes you were. You were totally going to, if I hadn’t stopped you.”
“I felt sort of bad for him. He’s all alone tonight.”
“What about the other professors who are all alone tonight. Were you going to invite them, too?”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Can I give you a bit of advice, mate?” Ron asked, but didn’t wait for Harry’s reply. “I think you need to decide if you’re really committed to Malfoy, or if you want to play the field still.”
“I told you--”
“Yeah, I know. You’re in love. But you’re flirting with this other bloke. You may not think so, but you’re leading him on. He was hoping you’d ask him to join us. It was written all over his face.”
Harry was about to protest. However, deep down, he knew Ron was right. “I . . . I’m just trying to be friendly. Draco says the same thing about Knox. I thought he was jealous.”
“Does he have anything to be jealous about?” Ron asked pointedly.
“Absolutely not,” Harry said firmly. “I do suppose Knox could be taking it all the wrong way, though.”
“I can’t believe I’m siding with Malfoy on this,” Ron rolled his eyes. “If you’re not careful, you could drive him away. Jealousy is a relationship killer.”
Raising his eyebrows, Harry commented, “Why, Ron, are you actually encouraging my relationship with Draco?”
Pursing his lips, Ron replied, “I have to admit, you are happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. If it’s his doing, then, yes I’m encouraging it.”
Harry threw his arms around Ron. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t need my approval, Harry.”
“But it means a lot to have it.”
Ron nodded. He made a mental note to make an effort to get to know the new Draco Malfoy and put aside their past.
“I wonder what Mione and Mal-- I guess I’d better get used to calling him Draco-- have been doing all this time,” Ron said. “She’s probably going to have my head. Merlin! I hope they haven’t started hexing each other or anything.”
“Relax, Ron. They’ve probably been politely waiting for us. I wonder if they came up with something to talk about.”
Harry opened his door to find Hermione in Draco’s arms, being dipped as they danced. The pair of them stopped in their tracks and stared.
“What the fuck is this?” Ron demanded.
“Draco has offered to teach us how to dance for our wedding. He’s quite good,” Hermione said, looking at Ron from her upside down position.
Draco quickly righted her and bowed. She giggled and curtsied back.
“I guess they found something to talk about,” Harry shrugged.
“Good thing he’s queer or I’d have to punch him,” Ron muttered.
“Watch out for that jealousy, Ron,” Harry smirked. He walked to Draco and took Hermione’s place.
“Will you teach me to dance too? I don’t remember anything from the Yule Ball.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Draco replied, pulling Harry flush against him. “I may show you a few different moves, however.”
In that moment, Harry was very glad for Ron’s intervention earlier. His friend was right. Harry needed to stop leading Knox on, however unintentional it may have been. His heart beat a little faster as Draco kissed his lips. This was all he wanted.