The Gamble Continues

The Gamble Continues

"Stay away, Malfoy!"

Draco stood watching him for a moment, emotions flickering over his face. "Oh, come on, Harry." He sighed and reached out to the table nearby, picking up his own wand. "Do you want to fight with me, Harry? I'd not care to wager on the outcome." He quirked an eyebrow upwards. "How about ... if I lose, I back down and we forget this ever happened. If you lose . . . I can have my wicked way with you." Draco's face was lit with cynical amusement.

Harry sucked in a quick breath, not saying a thing. With one swift move, and the cry of "expelliarmus!", Draco knocked Harry's wand from his hand and it clattered to the floor at his feet. Draco picked it up, put both wands on the table behind him, then turned to face Harry again. All signs of amusement had left his face. His expression was calm, but his eyes were ablaze with fiery intensity.

"You lose," Draco said softly.

Harry made a sound suspiciously close to a whimper, took a hasty step backwards, and with no small measure of alarm, realised he'd backed himself into the classroom wall. 'Shit,' he hissed, looking frantically for some defense.

'Shhh, Harry - there's really no need for that sort of language, is there?' Draco asked, advancing towards Harry as a hot smile played across his features.

'I'm warning you, Malfoy . . .' Harry said, his voice catching huskily in his throat.

Draco stopped, a coy expression flittering over his pale features. 'What's this? The Boy Who Lived, renegading on an agreement? My word, the wizarding world would be shocked,' Draco said, laughing softly. 'Come now, Harry . . . we couldn't have you breaking your word, could we?'

Harry glared at Draco furiously, but, to his shame, found himself craving Draco despite his own harsh words. A curious heat had spread through his body, culminating at his groin, and his breath was short, desperate. 'I . . . there was no agreement, Malfoy!' he said, and his voice came out on a squeak as Draco took a step that brought him up against Harry's trembling body. Draco placed a hand to one side of Harry's head and lowered his face until his lips were brushing against Harry's neck. His free hand suddenly caught Harry's hands, and he held them firmly behind Harry's back, efficiently pinning Harry against the wall with the weight of his body.

'It was a gentleman's agreement, Harry,' he whispered against Harry's ear. 'And you want this . . . you want this so much, don't you, Harry?' he continued, allowing the weight of his pelvis to fall against Harry, until their lower bodies were intimately nestled against each other. His voice was soft, coaxing, seductive. 'Don't deny it, Harry. Don't deny what you know you want.'

Harry drew in a deep, shuddering breath. 'St . . . stop,' Harry murmured weakly, his eyelashes fluttering closed as Draco's lips softly nuzzled his neck. 'Malfoy . . . Draco . . . we can't . . .' his words ended with a soft, surprised moan as Draco's mouth found his and gently caressed his lips. The soft, warm fingers of one hand were suddenly kneading the back of his neck, drawing his head closer to Draco's own, whilst Draco's other hand slowly stroked its way down his spine, feather-light and full of devastating promise. 'No,' Harry protested, but his body said otherwise, and Draco chuckled quietly as his hand found the curve of Harry's arse.

Without being fully conscious of his own actions, Harry swept his hands upwards, burying them in Draco's robes, clutching at his shoulders as his lips opened and allowed Draco to fully take advantage of him. He gasped a little as Draco's tongue ran along his lower lip then swept inwards to meet with his own, gentle and slow at first, then more eagerly and demanding as Harry relented and slowly moved his hands up Draco's neck, pulling Draco closer and grinding his hips against Draco's own. 'Good boy,' Draco murmured, breaking the kiss briefly to look into Harry's wide, dark eyes.

'Draco,' Harry whispered, the single word a plea for something he didn't understand; filled with hot longing and fear at the unfamiliar feelings sweeping him.

'Don't think,' Draco replied suddenly. 'Just feel,' he said, slowly pushing Harry to the floor, his lips hard and bruising against Harry's own, his breath coming in pants as Harry moved with such innocent sensuality beneath him. Harry's hands were suddenly at his waistband, grappling with a surprising ferocity at his pants. Eager to comply, Draco moved one of his own hands to Harry's robes, removing them with expert proficiency, leaving Harry in simple charcoal slacks and a bizarre, tatted old knitted top with a giant 'H' at its centre. For some inexplicable reason, it just made Draco want Harry more, and he slipped his hand beneath the top, running his fingers up over Harry's sleek quidditch-toned frame, feeling Harry's soft skin as Harry's muscles rippled beneath his touch.

Lowering himself over Harry's body, Draco snatched at one of Harry's hands, taking one long finger into his mouth, slowly running his tongue suggestively over the length of it as he ground his hips against Harry and watched as Harry's face grew even more flushed with heat. 'Draco,' he panted softly, then suddenly he froze and his eyes widened. 'Professor McGonagall!' he gasped in horror, bucking Draco from his body.

'I certainly hope there is some explanation for this behaviour, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,' she responded tartly.