Draco wasn’t sure how he came to be in the Forbidden Forest at three in the morning, half-naked, bound, gagged, and shivering against a tree, but like his grandmother used to say, things happen and all you can do is to stay calm until you can buy your way out of it. So of course Draco did just that.
Okay, he was attempting to do just that. It was a little difficult to remain nonchalant when there was a giant Acromantula staring down at him, its extraordinarily sharp teeth looking especially prominent through the hair and appendages.
This, Draco thought through his panic, was all Theodore fucking Nott’s fault. He would be more furious if the panic hadn’t taken so completely over his body. Oh Merlin’s balls, he was only eighteen, he was way too young and too gorgeous to die just yet! He had always imagined his death to be more dignified, like being pierced by an arrow during battle as he struck down the enemies, or falling down onto a bed of roses glittering like a prince. Not once had the idea of being chewed to death crossed his mind, and now, the reality of it seemed much more terrifying than anything he could ever have conjured up. His urge to scream like a shrieking baby was halted by the fact that he his mouth was stuffed of some poncy handkerchief Nott owned. Draco wasn’t sure if he’d rather die or have someone find him screaming his voice off like a little girl. Although at the moment, the latter option seemed much more appealing.
The Acromantula was getting closer. Draco could feel its breath as it stirred his damp hair, smelling like old eggs and impending death. This wasn’t a joke, Nott was serious about killing him.Oh gods, he was going to die alone in a forest and there would be no remains left to be found. He would disappear from the world, and no one would be the wiser as to why, and unfortunately, no one would probably care.
No no no go away, Draco chanted in his head, eyes shut tight. The rough hair from the creature’s body brushed against him, signalling his death, he was going to die–
The silence that followed was accompanied by the whistling wind and the tension emanating off of Draco. There was no pain, no head or limb bitten off, no horrifying screams coming from his mouth.
Confused, Draco opened one eye slowly and peeked out to see if the universe had taken pity on him and stopped time until he figured out how to get out of his predicament unscathed.
What he saw was the Acromantula right in front of him, its entire body frozen, rigid all the way down to the coarse black hair. The only things moving were its eight eyes, blinking at him as if saying You’re not getting away just yet, prey.
But it wasn’t the horrifying sight of the spider that got him so completely speechless. It was Harry Potter, standing on top of the creature and holding a wand in his right hand, looking rumbled and a little lost in his pajamas decorated with broomsticks.
Fucking hell, Draco thought as Potter slid down the Acromantula and stood right in front of him.
“Was so not expecting to find you like this, Malfoy,” Potter said casually, as if he hadn’t just saved Draco from yet another fatal situation.
When Potter finished untying him from the tree and taking the gag out of his mouth, Draco did the only thing his fear-addled mind could think of and kissed Potter squarely on the mouth.
Potter’s surprised shout was muffled by Draco’s mouth moving insistently against it. With the determination of a man who’d narrowly escaped death, Draco pushed Potter to the crumbling leaves on the ground and climbed on top of him, single-mindedly trying to suck the air out of Potter’s lungs.
“What – the fuck – mmhhmm are you doing?” Potter gasped out between kisses, his hands mysteriously running up and down Draco’s bare back instead of pushing him away. Draco couldn’t blame him for it; very rare was it that someone was able to resist his gloriously nude body (or semi-nude, as the case may be).
“Shut up,” Draco panted, sticking his hands underneath Potter’s hideous top to find warm skin. He had never thought that Potter could have such smooth skin. He had imagined him covered in hair and boils, but consider the circumstances, he couldn’t really say he was upset about it. “I almost died a virgin, Potter, and that can’t happen. Again.”
Potter didn’t seem convinced by his pristine reasoning, but when it came to Potter, Draco was never really sure of his capability to engage in logical reasoning at the best of time. Potter didn’t seem very disagreeable, though, when Draco slid his hands from his surprisingly well-defined chest to slip them under Potter’s pants.
“Oh my god, Malfoy!” Potter garbled, his hips jerking up into Draco’s hands. Draco pulled down the man’s bottoms and was met with the most unexpected sight.
“Potter, congratulations, you actually have something to be proud of,” Draco drawled, but the effect was rather dampened by the saliva that suddenly filled his mouth. Potter's cock was standing straight, red and leaking with pre-come, seeming to be begging for Draco’s touch. He couldn’t wait any longer. With less finesse than he’d have liked, Draco pulled down his own silk pants and quickly lined his prick up against Potter's. When his hand closed around their erections, Draco’s mind almost imploded at the pleasure that rushed through his body like fireworks. From the sounds Potter was making, Draco suspected the feeling was mutual.
They moved together like two teenagers would, with no patience or skill. Potter put one hand around Draco’s and tightened his grip as he pushed into the makeshift channel. Draco closed his eyes and followed Potter’s motion, his body wound tight with pleasure. At one point he felt Potter’s touch on his arse, but he was too far gone to slap it away. Instead, he arched into Potter’s caress, liking the heat that seemed to burn a mark into his fine backside. Draco had to admit, Potter had really nice hands, despite the highly unflattering calluses. Potter had really nice lips, too; they were really red, and full, and on any given day Draco would have wondered if Potter had gotten stung by a bee as a young boy and had to live with the permanent reminder, but today wasn’t just any day. Today, he almost died, and Potter had proven himself to be the ever reliable savior of all those in needs. And sure, Draco would never, ever be caught saying it out loud, but he might just be a little bit fonder of Potter for it.
“Malfoy, close,” Potter moaned, jerking even more erratically. His stomach flexed, and even in the darkness, Draco could see the tension in his body, see the overwhelming feelings displayed in his body language, and the sight of Potter lost in his own carnal pleasure sent Draco over the edge. With a shout he climaxed, shooting his load all over himself and Potter. Draco tightened his hand around their cocks and squeezed, slipping a bit because of the come. When his fingers brushed over Potter’s slit, the man orgasmed with a cry so disturbingly sexy that it stunned Draco for a short, but very real, second.
When Draco slowly returned from his high and his brain began to function again, Draco became very aware of what had just occurred.
He had just thought of Potter as sexy. The idea was so terrifying that it sent Draco shooting to his feet and almost tripping over his half pulled up pants.
When he was decent – or as decent as a man dressed in his underwear, coated with come and looking as if he had just engaged in the most fantastic shag of his life could be – Draco turned to Potter, still lying on the ground and looking way too pleased with himself for Draco’s liking.
“This,” he said in a half-hearted snarl (he had just orgasmed, after all), “never happened.”
And with that said, he fled.