FIC: Stalking Malfoy - Chapter 10: Mutual Benefit Title:Stalking Malfoy Authors:slashpervert and pierrot_dreams Betas: Jake and Mini Mouse. Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: ADULT! Genre: Smut Length: 41,780 words (15 chapters) Pairing: Severus/Draco/Harry (Severus/Draco, Harry/Severus, Harry/Draco as well as Draco/others in backstory.) Summary: Harry is determined to catch Malfoy and Snape plotting evil. What he finds shocks him even more than he imagined. The worst shock isn’t that Malfoy and Snape are shagging, but that Harry is more turned on by that than he has ever been. (Sequel to Stalking Malfoy's Arse, or Midnight Machinations.) Warnings: (Mark to read.) Language, M/M & M/M/M sex including anal, oral, threesome, voyeurism, mild D/s, spanking. Teacher/student. Adult/teen age disparity. Notes: PWP. Canon to OTP, AU from sixth year. Snape teaching potions. The first draft of this was written a couple years ago. Icon from, with permission, Veridari's art, Desired. Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fan fiction intended for adult audiences only. No copyright or trademark infringement intended. (Full Disclaimer!)
Chapter Number/Total: 10/15 Chapter Title: Mutual Benefit Words: 2961 Words
Snape's sallow face was drawn with fury. Harry had never seen the man look so angry. Harry took a step back, forgetting that his trousers were around his knees, and went sprawling.
"Something you needed, Potter?" Snape said between clenched teeth. He had snatched up the Penseive, and the silvery reflection made his face look ghoulish.
Malfoy looked torn between confusion and laughing at Harry's predicament. "Potter, with his pants down? What perverted things are you doing in Professor Snape's office?"
"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Harry mumbled, cheeks burning. He yanked his pants back up, wincing to see the drying crust of cum across the front. Oh, God, could this situation get any worse?
Snape released Harry's shoulder but was glowering at him. "You never have known when to keep your nose out of other people's business, Potter," he snarled, drawing his wand.
Apparently it could get worse, and with alacrity. Harry scrambled backwards, fumbling in his robe for his own wand.
"Don't move, Potter," Snape insisted. "I will deal with you shortly."
Malfoy had been grinning, clearly enjoying Harry's embarrassment. His eyes widened in surprise when Snape turned to him. "I need to return these to Mr Malfoy."
Harry frowned, utterly confused. Of course, if those were Malfoy's memories in the Penseive he wouldn't remember them, but what had been the point of removing them in the first place? Could Harry's suspicions about the man have been correct?
Malfoy's expression was confused and wary, but Snape grabbed him by the arm and then dipped the tip of his wand into the silvery liquid, withdrawing a strand and pressing it to Draco's temple.
Harry's eyes widened. He drew his wand, wanting it at the ready in case Snape ... well, did something Death Eater-ish.
"Put that away, Potter," Snape snapped without even turning around. The memory strand disappeared into Malfoy's head and his eyes widened, cheeks reddening. He looked nervously between Harry and Snape, who pulled another stand from the Pensieve.
Harry frowned, but did as Snape ordered. It didn't seem as though he was hurting Draco. Still, he kept his hand close to his wand just in case.
Each memory seemed to cause a fresh wave of shock and embarrassment to Malfoy's face. Given the ones Harry had seen, he could imagine what it would be like to get those back, let alone know that someone else had been watching them. Snape finished and stepped back, hand still on Malfoy's arm, seeming to be steadying the shocked blond.
"Are you all right?" Snape asked in a low voice.
"Professir ... Severus," Malfoy corrected himself, eyes having a different look to them now when he looked at their professor. One pale hand rose to his throat, as if to touch the collar he usually wore but which Harry could see was now missing. Then Malfoy glanced at Harry and the colour in his cheeks spread to his ears. Apparently, the returned memories included the one where Harry had joined in with them.
"Uh, hi, Malfoy," Harry said awkwardly. "You okay?"
Malfoy's cheeks were red and his eyes narrowed in anger. "You had no right!" he hissed, shaking. "I ... I hate you!" Then the bond turned and went for the door, pulled it open and bolted out.
Harry stared after him for a moment, mouth open and closing. He almost wanted to apologise but he wouldn't have known what to say even if Malfoy had stayed. Sorry I watched all your most fucked up and intimate moments and got off on it? That didn't seem appropriate even if it was true. Harry was startled when Snape flicked his wand and the door slammed closed again, leaving the two of them in the room.
Snape whirled on Harry. "You just can't resist prying can you? Well, maybe we will just have to give you something else to think about."
Harry held his wand out in front of him. "What are you planning on doing?" he demanded.
"I may have to teach you a lesson, Mr Potter," Snape warned and then cast Locking and Silencing Charms on the door. "So no other curious interlopers disturb us," he said.
"Disturb us doing what?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"How many of Mister Malfoys' memories did you watch?" Snape demanded.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks go red. "Uh. Well. There was Malfoy having sex with Adrian Pucey. And there was Malfoy having sex with Anthony Goldstein. And between that was Malfoy crying after his father was arrested. And then after Anthony Goldstein was Malfoy...um, being spanked."
"Indeed, only those?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Well, I was interrupted," Harry retorted. His cheeks weren’t the only things growing warm, his cock twitching in interest at the memories replaying in his mind.
Snape laughed. It was an odd sound, deep and rough. He stepped closer to Harry, eyes flickering down toward Harry's renewed erection.
Harry felt his skin prickle with heat, as if Snape were a fire instead of a person. "I ... I haven't seen you since before the holiday. I was wondering where you were."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "I have been ... busy." He tugged Harry forward, against himself and covered Harry’s mouth with his own.
Where Malfoy's mouth had been soft and wet and plump, Snape's was thin and dry and tasted vaguely of herbs. If Harry had had to imagine it, he would have thought snogging Snape would be like getting a mouthful of rotting parchment. It wasn't. It was ... pleasant. Pleasant enough to make Harry's cock take notice. He realised as Snape drew him closer that though he had kissed a girl, and he had kissed a boy, he had never before kissed a man.
Snape's lips were firm and demanding, almost nibbling at Harry's, his grip on Harry's head, controlling the angle and his other hand coming to rest on the small of Harry's back, pulling him closer so that he rubbed against the man. Snape's hardness ground against Harry's hip, insistent, demanding. Harry felt a sudden thrill of trepidation, and. despite himself, he pushed away. Then Snape's tongue pressed between his lips, coaxing them apart.
Harry moaned as Snape's tongue entered his mouth. It felt invasive, almost, like a ... claiming. Like Snape was staking ownership. And fuck if that thought didn't make Harry's aching cock jerk and dribble in his pants.
Snape’s kiss was as demanding as the rest of his attitude, his tongue twisting with Harry's. Harry's hands were tangled in Snape's robes, wanting more, wanting to feel. Harry cupped Snape's face, touched his throat, his hair – not greasy, like he'd thought it would be, but slick and coarse between his fingers – felt his arms, surprised at the sinewy muscle he found, then moved down to rub his back, up again to rest, finally, on his shoulders.
Snape broke the kiss, actually nipping a bit at Harry's lower lip and chin. Both eyebrows rose and his black eyes met Harry's. His hand slid down Harry’s front until that large hand closed over Harry's groin, cupping his prick through his increasingly damp pants and pressing. Harry's hips bucked involuntarily, and he buried his face in Snape's chest, mentally begging him to move, oh fuck, just touch it ...
And, amazingly, his wish was granted. Snape drew his hand up the front and then tugged Harry’s pants down. Then long firm fingers curled around Harry's prick, squeezing, thumb swiping over the head. Harry gibbered something indecipherable and thrust into Snape's hand. Long cool fingers massaged his cock expertly, root to weeping tip, but Harry needed more – more friction, more pressure, more ... Snape. He squeezed Snape's shoulders and moaned helplessly, knees buckling as Snape's hands moved down to cup his tight balls.
Snape laid Harry back, sweeping quill, ink and anything else on the desktop to the floor and yanking Harry's shorts and trousers the rest of the way off.
"What're you–" Harry gasped out. But his question was summarily answered as Snape's hot mouth closed around his cock. The older man's hands pushed Harry's legs, spreading him wide as he sucked, taking Harry's prick deep into his throat.
Harry moaned and arched into the wet vacuum of Snape's mouth. Snape took him to the root, burying his nose in Harry's bush and swallowing around his hot cock.
"Fuck – Snape–" Harry groaned, carding his fingers through the man's hair. "Feels good..."
Snape's long strong fingers were gripping Harry's thighs as he worked his mouth up and down, tongue and lips moving to do amazing things to Harry's cock. Snape didn't suck cock like Draco. Draco's mouth had been soft and worshipful. Snape, on the other hand, sucked cock like he meant it. He was fucking Harry's cock with his mouth. And Harry was loving every minute of it. The man went at it with the determination that he showed toward everything, sucking Harry until he could feel his balls drawing up with impending release.
Then he reached it, shuddered and spilled down Snape's throat. Snape licked the slit of Harry's softening prick until he whimpered, the sensation too much on his oversensitive cockhead.
Snape stood then, looking down at Harry with eyes dark as he pulled out his own cock and began stroking himself. Harry could take a hint. A little hesitantly, he reached out and closed his hand around Snape's cock. It felt alive in his palm, heavy and hot and throbbing, as though with its own heartbeat. Snape didn't let go, instead guiding Harry's hand as he showed him how he liked it, breath coming in pants that were almost moans.
Harry ran his thumb over Snape's ruddy cockhead. Pre-come pearled at the slit, smearing Harry's fingers. Unaccountably, his mouth watered. Fuck. He wanted to suck Snape's cock. Harry looked up at Snape, flushed and bright-eyed with arousal.
"D'you want me to, you know?" he asked awkwardly. "To do what you did?"
"Yes, I want to see you wrap your lips around it," Snape said, voice almost his usual sneer but deeper.
Snape pulled Harry in for a long lingering kiss, swirling his tongue around the mouth that he was about to plunder. Then, not ungently, he pushed Harry to his knees and presented his cock.
Seen from this angle, Snape's cock looked impossibly, terrifyingly big, like a bratwurst bobbing between his legs. The weeping eye stared at Harry accusingly. 'Too much of a coward to finish what you started?' it seemed to say.
Harry took a deep breath and gave the crown a tentative lick. The flavour of it – Harry weighed the taste on his tongue, salty and – chlorinate? A little bitter, perhaps. He closed his lips over Snape's cockhead and sucked meditatively, trying to analyse the precise savor of sweat and hot, silky skin mingled with sticky pearls of pre-come.
Snape gave a small gasp, hand coming to rest on the top of Harry's head, fingers flexing but not pushing. Harry moved his head forward, trying to take Snape in deeper. His gag reflex rebelled and he choked, throat and eyes burning. He backed off hurriedly.
"You can do better than that, Potter," Snape hissed.
Harry shook his head, sucking determinedly on as much of Snape's prick he could comfortably fit in his mouth – a little past the edge of foreskin drawn back. He took the rest of Snape's length in his hand and began to stroke him, matching the rhythm to that of his sucking.
Snape fingers tightened in his hair. "Yes, good," he moaned.
Encouraged by what was in all probability the first approving comment Snape had ever made to him, Harry slid his mouth further down on the man's cock, trying to ignore his watering eyes.
"Don't try to take too much yet," Snape warned. He reached down and took Harry's hand, moving it down. "Touch my bullocks."
Harry obeyed, cupping Snape's scrotum and rolling the sensitive pouch in his hand. Encouraged by Snape's moans, Harry stroked and squeezed the tightening sac, even being so experimental as to play with the web of skin between Snape's balls. Snape widened his stance a little, fingertips stroking Harry’s scalp and curling around the back of his head, firm but feeling really good.
Harry sucked Snape to a mellow orgasm, hands working cock and balls as he swallowed two bittersweet mouthfuls of come. He was rewarded by a low moan and the feeling of Snape's legs trembling. Those fingers stayed in place, soothing a bit of scalp that had been pulled when Snape had tightened his hand as he came.
Carefully, Harry disengaged his lips from Snape's cock. "So, how did I do?" he asked, half-serious.
Snape arched an eyebrow, looking down at him with the hint of a smirk. "Certainly more than adequate for the task," he answered, then seemingly reluctant to do so, released Harry's hair and moved to fasten up his own robes.
Harry stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked around and found his own clothing, pulling on the pants and trousers. Harry glanced toward the Pensieve. "I'm not sorry I watched them," he declared, chin lifted a bit defiantly.
Snape looked torn between chastising Harry and amusement. "You shouldn't pry into other people's business."
"So you tell me, but it seems to work fine for me," Harry quipped, both eyebrows raised. Then he remembered the look on Malfoy's face. "Malfoy, is he going to be a ponce about this?"
Snape frowned. "His ... difficulties are not a laughing matter."
Harry felt a pang of guilt at that. "Well, I hope he doesn't take it too hard. I mean I ... liked what we did. I'd like to do it agian."
"Eager for more time on your knees?" Snape challenged, though he didn't look displeased.
"Or over your desk," Harry shot back.
Snape's brows furrowed. "Your cheek aside, we might find that ... mutually beneficial." Then he reached and pulled Harry forward against, mouth taking Harry's in an insistent kiss.
Draco fled, panicked and looking for somewhere to hide. He found himself in the disused loo on the second floor. He turned on the taps and splashed water on his flushed face, still shaking. He was mortified, not only by the nature of his returned memories, but by the knowledge that Potter had seen them. Those memories contained his weakest and most depraved moments of the previous year and Draco had enough difficulty accepting them back into his consciousness, without the added fear that Potter's involvement brought.
His life had taken a bizarre turn this year. His father was in Azkaban, he'd been ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore, was having sex with his Head of House, and now... with Harry Potter, sworn enemy. And he wasn't sure why Severus had engineered that. He seemed to think that it would make things better for Draco. It was true that Draco had ... been attracted to Potter but he wasn't as optimistic about the other boy's ability to help. Dumbledore knew of the mission and seemed unconcerned – or possibly unwilling to do anything that let Voldemort know that Snape, and Draco, weren't still firmly in the Death Eater camp. Draco thought about his mother, wondering when he'd see her again, if ever.
Unless Severus or Dumbledore surprised him with some brilliant plan, Draco realised he would have to follow through with Voldemort's orders. Letting Severus kill Dumbledore for him didn't seem any better either. Voldemort would kill Draco and his family and Dumbledore would still be dead.
"What're you doing here?" a watery voice from behind him demanded. "Don't you know that this is a girl's bathroom?"
"Piss off," Draco snapped, chagrined to be caught, even if it was by a ghost.
Moaning Myrtle's chin wobbled, and she gave out a gulping sob. "Oh, of all the insensitive things to say!" she wailed. "You know I don't have anywhere else to go. Nobody wants to be around Moaning Myrtle. I can't help it if I'm dead!"
Draco thought that if she had been even half this shrill before, he completely understood why someone had killed her. He gripped the sink with both hands, closing his eyes. "Yeah, that's me, an insensitive arse."
"Well, at least you admit it," said Myrtle, somewhat mollified. "Are you crying?"
"I never cry," Draco insisted, grimacing when he looked in the mirror and noticed his eyes were red.
"Li-ar," Myrtle sing-songed. "What's got you so upset, anyway? It's not as if you have anything to worry about. You're alive."
"Not for much longer," he retorted before he thought better of it.
"Oh?" Myrtle brightened up. "You're welcome to share my bathroom. It gets terribly lonely all on my own."
"Thanks," Draco sneered. The idea of an eternity trapped in the loo sounded almost worse than facing Voldemort.
"Are you going to kill yourself?" Myrtle asked, propping her transparent elbows up on the sink next to him. "You look like the sort of person who would kill himself. All pale and tortured-looking. Is it because of a girl?"
Draco's nose wrinkled in disgust. "No, not girls. My life would be loads simpler if it was."
"Ah, so you're a pouf," Myrtle said knowledgeably. "I suppose it's not a bad reason to kill yourself."
Draco scowled at her. "No, cock makes me happy. It's that the bloke I want finally wants me, but I can't have him."
"I'm a Malfoy and he's bloody Harry Potter, that's why!"
Draco looked at her in exasperation. Draco's life, his parents' lives, all hung on him doing what the madman had ordered. He didn't even want to imagine what Voldemort would do if he found Draco had feelings for The Boy Who Lived.