Dark Magic

Harry sighed. He was late for Potions, again. And that slimy git of a Potions Master, Snape, was bound to give him yet another detention. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he half ran, half walked down to the dungeons.

"Oi, Scarhead!"

Harry stopped running and turn only to see the face of Draco Malfoy. Harry and Draco had been enemies ever since their first journey to Hogwarts. Then, he had a pale, pointed face, cold grey eyes and white-blond hair.

Now, thought still pale, his features were no longer pointed, they were hard, and yet soft; as if chiselled by a craftsman. And his eyes - if possible - even darker.

"What, Malfoy?" Harry said hurriedly, brushing his hair from out of his eyes.

"No Mudblood and Weasel with the famous Potty today?" Malfoy sneered.

"Do you see them, you brainless nit?!" Harry asked exasperated.

"Don't get all touchy, the Dementors aren't here."

"Fuck off!"

Draco laughed. "Speaking of fuck," he paused, waiting to see if her would interject, but he didn't. "I here you're quite partial to cock."

Harry noticed the sudden change in Draco's voice: It was lower, huskier, sultry, and even - god forbid - ...sexy.

"Get out of it," Harry scoffed, trying to sound like he hadn't noticed the brief change in Draco's voice.

Draco backed Harry against the wall. "No Weasel and that Manky Mudblood to save you now, eh?" He said against Harry's ear. His hot breath sending a tingle down Harry's spine, reaching down between his legs. Harry resisted the urge to moan and arch himself against Draco's body. Instead, he stiffened, pushed Draco out of the way and began for the dungeons, now extremely late for his Potion lesson. Draco, slightly taken aback by the forcefulness of Harry's push, fell down to the ground.

"You'll pay for that, Potter," Draco said under his breath as he reached inside his robes and pulled out his wand. A jet of purple light shot of Draco's wand, aiming straight for Harry's back.

Harry let a yell a he fell to the ground; thick black ropes had bound themselves around Harry's ankles and wrists. Satisfied, Draco got up and walked over to where Harry lay defenceless on the ground. He looked down upon him; a smirk carved onto his perfect face as he watched Harry struggle to get free.

"Looks like you're in need of some help, Scarhead."

"Not from you I don't," Harry bit back. "I'll handle this without your help, Wanker."

"I believe, Potter, that you are the wanker. I have an endless number of girls to keep me satisfied. So why don't you go along and find Weasel, and maybe Granger and have a little orgy-fest. Oh wait, you can't; you're all-tied-up." Draco wore his traditional smirk as he bent down so that he was level with Harry. "Now, be a good boy, and don't bite - no matter how tempting - while I untie you."

Finally free of the ropes, Harry stood and brushed the dirt off of his robes. He looked up to see Draco only a few inches away from him. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes travelled down to his soft lips. Harry took a step forward, their lips only millimetres away.

Harry whispered, his voice dropping two octaves. "What you heard was correct: I am quite partial to cock."