ChantelMalfoy -- LOL Don't worry. This is a Harry/Draco story. Blaise and Draco don't get together, despite what it may look like. Yummy H/D by next chapter. : )~
Texas -- Thanks! : ) Hopefully it'll stay that way.
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Chapter Two
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Draco sat at breakfast, pushing his food around the plate in front of him. He'd seriously considered sitting on the opposite side of the table this morning -- his back to the room -- but habit, and pride, kept him from doing that. He certainly couldn't have Potter thinking he'd got to him.
The only problem with pride was the fact that sitting as usual, he was within easy eyesight of the Gryffindor table and it took every ounce of his willpower not to constantly glance over at the source of his agitation. He and Blaise had spent most of the night talking. Draco had revealed things that *still* left him rather stunned, and if the truth be told, a little worried. He had left himself vulnerable to Blaise. If his housemate took advantage of that, he was toast. Draco's father would *not* approve of most of what Draco had told Blaise.
Some things had been kept to themselves; that went without saying. The main topic of interest to most in Slytherin house, The Dark Lord, had not come up once -- not even in passing. The very absence of the subject telling, in Draco considered opinion. He, however, was not going to be the one to bring it up.
Unfortunately, while it had felt oddly pleasant to unburden himself, their talk hadn't really helped him decide what the bloody hell he was going to do about Potter's offer -- proposition, more like. He was under no illusions about what their 'roles' would be if he accepted, and that made him a touch . . . uncomfortable. There were obvious benefits. A shot of pure lust tightened his gut and pooled in his groin as he thought about precisely what those 'benefits' would be. It certainly made him grateful the lower half of his body was hidden by the table.
He shifted uncomfortably as he immediately tucked into his food, trying to distract himself from his rather circular thoughts. It didn't help much. Cold food wasn't much of a distraction, and he pushed it away with a sigh of disgust.
Risking a long look across the Great hall, what he saw confused him -- though, he supposed it shouldn't have. He'd been seeing Potter most every day now for over six years. What he'd seen last night was the oddity, not what he was seeing now. It was still strange, though, the other seemed more . . . right. This morning the very *reek* of sexuality was gone. The aura of control and tightly constrained power was gone, too. Today he looked just like he always had, a mostly cheerful, slightly goofy teenager. The juxtaposition sat oddly within Draco's mind, and he simply couldn't make the two images fit.
//I come here for very specific reasons, Draco.//
The words floated through Draco's thoughts. That's what Potter had said last night.
//I come here to let it all hang out. I can be myself here. No one cares who I am outside these doors. Here, I'm just *me*, Harry. That way, everyone gets what they want. I don't disappoint anyone.//
**Chafing at the bit, Potter?** Draco wondered. **Your friends not know 'the real you'?** That thought had no sooner drifted through his mind than he started to wonder just how well *he* knew Potter. If he could keep this kind of thing from his friends, what could he keep from an 'enemy'?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise look in his direction, smirking. With a scowl, Draco forced his attention back to his breakfast. It was never good to be obvious. Even if it seemed Blaise was far more perceptive than Draco had ever given the guy credit for. He'd admitted last night that he'd thought Draco had fancied Potter *before* last night -- which had been why he'd set up that little hunt. How he'd figured *that*, Draco had absolutely no clue, because, up until last night's little adventure into the surreal, Draco'd had nothing but contempt for the 'hero' of the Gryffindors.
Last night had been different. It had been frightening, but it had also been good . . . very good. Looking over at the Gryffindor again, Draco began to wonder how much of last night had been the excitement, the fear of being caught and of delving into the forbidden, and how much was actually because of Potter. He began to wonder if maybe it wasn't Potter at all, and it was just the situation. He began to wonder if he would react that way if it was someone else.
With a bolt of horror, a new thought shoved its way into Draco's thoughts. **What if I would react that way to *anyone* that--** He shuddered. **Bloody hell!** He'd never thought of himself as . . . easy. He had high standards as to who he did and did not sleep with. But this sudden, and nearly overwhelming, attraction to his most hated rival simply because -- as he saw it -- of a newly discovered kink was . . . disturbing. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure which scenario he hated more. Would he prefer actually *fancying* Bloody 'Perfect' Potter, or would he prefer realizing that he was a pushover for anyone with enough charisma and dominating sex appeal.
Draco shot up out of his seat, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle as the hastily rose after him. "Stay put," he ordered, stalking over to Blaise. "I need to speak with you," he said through clenched teeth.
Blaise looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
Draco was well aware that Blaise had actually been watching him since the moment he'd stood, but didn't reveal that now.
"All right," Blaise drawled, slowly getting to his feet.
When Blaise's own 'followers' stood, Draco glared at them. "Privately."
They hesitated uneasily, not wanting to cross Draco, but didn't sit back down until a bored wave from Blaise put them at ease.
As they strode out of the Great Hall, Draco debated carefully how, exactly, he was going to broach the subject. The very thought of trying sent a trill of unease through him. Neither of them spoke, however, as they made their way down into the dungeons, the mutual silence remaining in effect until the door to an unused dungeon classroom closed behind them.
"What end of the spectrum are you on?" Draco asked abruptly.
**Way to go with subtlety!** Draco thought to himself sourly. He must be more nervous than he'd thought, to just blurt it out. In front of him, Blaise's eyes widened and he sank into the closest chair, staring at Draco, his expression disconcertingly incredulous.
"What?"
Draco shook his head in irritation, more at himself than at Blaise. "I bloody well know it's an impertinent question, Blaise." He paused, fighting with himself again, and his habitual need not to reveal weakness. "But it's . . . important."
The dark haired Slytherin didn't answer immediately, and Draco started to wonder if he'd stepped over the line with the question. The boundaries of the tentative friendship they were developing had changed, broadened, but he wasn't entirely certain he hadn't just obliterated them.
"I always top," he said finally, his eyes never leaving Draco's. "Why?" he continued pointedly.
Draco had never heard the term 'top' before, at least not in this context, but it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out what it meant. It was pretty obvious. Taking a deep breath to steady nerves suddenly gone haywire, Draco met Blaise's steady gaze squarely. "Because I need to test a . . . theory," he said quietly, "something I need to know to . . . decide."
"And this 'theory' of yours, the one that will help you decide," Blaise asked, "it relates to the fact that I'm a Dom?"
Draco nodded, waiting.
"And the *fact* that you're . . . not."
Draco started at the emphasis on 'fact', immediately wanting to protest it as a 'fact'. He didn't want to put Blaise off, however, so remained silent. He simply nodded again.
Rising slowly, languidly, Blaise stalked toward Draco, the gleam in the Slytherin's eyes something Draco had never seen there before, and he found himself wanting to back away. He didn't; he steadfastly remained in place. Malfoys didn't back down. Even so, it was highly disconcerting to watch 'the change' come over Blaise -- it was as startlingly different as it was in the two Potters.
Draco had been the unofficial leader of Slytherin house for the last year and a half, the only person having more power in-house being Professor Snape. Not that he didn't have to watch his step, what he said and did, but no one 'lorded' over him . . . ever. Respectful distances were kept, threats, if any, were made carefully and with great subtlety.
Blaise was now standing mere inches away, circling behind him. Only pride kept him from turning to keep the other boy in his line of sight. Draco had never felt his lack of height so keenly as right at this moment. Not that he was short or anything--
"What?!" Draco exclaimed, jumping, as Blaise reached around him and plucked the books out of his hands. Whipping his head around to glare, Draco watched the smirk unfold on the other boy's face as he carelessly dropped the books to the floor.
"So this 'theory' of yours, Draco," he drawled, "what are you testing? Hmmm? Are you testing," he continued, brushing aside the ends of Draco's hair from the back of his neck, urging Draco with not so gentle fingers to look forward again, "just *how* sub you are?"
A shiver ran through Draco as Blaise dropped his lips to the bared column of Draco's neck.
"Or are you trying to figure out if just *anyone* will do?" Another moist caress of lips followed the final question.
Draco shivered again, some arousal sending blood south, tightening his belly, but unease chased along for the ride. Refusing to move, refusing to fight it, Draco nodded. "Yes," he said, not entirely sure which question he was responding to. Perhaps both.
And as suddenly as that, Blaise reversed their positions. Draco was up against the wall, one of Blaise's hands curled behind his neck, fingers tangled firmly in his hair. It didn't hurt, but Draco knew damn well he couldn't move without it doing so.
**Bloody hell!** He'd expected they'd go somewhere a little less risky, that he'd have time to prepare himself mentally for this, but Blaise was pressed up against him, his head lowering.
"Whoa," he said. "What are you doing? Wait a minute."
"You're not in charge here, Draco," Blaise purred, capturing Draco's lower lip between his. "Kiss me," Blaise demanded.
A shiver running down his spine, Draco complied, opening under Blaise's immediately renew assault. This was what he'd wanted, after all; right? Malfoys always got what they wanted, and *boy* was he getting it!
Where had he been this last entire year, not realizing that there was this kind of excitement waiting? And how the hell was it that he'd never heard how bloody good a kisser Blaise was? **Oh, right,** he thought idly. **Into girls, not guys.**
Blaise's free hand slid from the wall beside Draco's hand to skim down his side, not stopping until it reached his hip. Alarm raced through Draco as a thumb began caressing circular patterns in the hollow of his pelvic bone, overcoming what arousal he felt.
He had his answer. This was fun; it was good, but it wasn't what he wanted. He pushed against Blaise, pulling his mouth away. "Okay, that's enough," he said.
Blaise chuckled, tightening the hand that held his hair, capturing one of Draco's with the other and pinning it to the wall.
"This isn't funny, Zabini!" Draco snapped, beginning to struggle in earnest. **Shit! Did everyone lift weights but him?** He went for his wand, his free hand fumbling in the folds of his school robes.
"Not meant to be," Blaise replied easily, shifting his weight until his hip was firmly wedged between Draco's free hand an the specially made pocket he kept his wand in. Not stopping his actions, running moist, forceful kisses along Draco's jaw, Blaise chuckled, the sound dark and ominous.
"Stop, now," Draco commanded, stiffening in outrage, anger pulsing through him, fear an unpleasant counterbeat to it all.
Still pinning Draco, Blaise pulled his head back far enough to look Draco in the eyes. "I told you, you're not in charge here," he replied firmly, a frighteningly fanatical gleam lighting his eyes.
"You won't get away with this!" Draco snapped, at his wits end. **How the hell am I getting out of this?** he wondered frantically.
"You forgot something very, very important in this little game, Draco," Blaise purred, rubbing against him.
"What's that?" Draco sneered, holding onto the last shreds of his dignity tightly.
"A safe word," Blaise replied in a far more normal tone.
Relief washed over Draco in a nearly orgasmic wave as Blaise pulled back and stepped away, leaving him shaking.
"A what?" Draco choked.
Catching his breath, willing his heart to slow its frantic pace, Draco listened as Blaise explained what a safe word was, and why it was so important.
"Seems kind of, I don't know," Draco replied when Blaise finished, "poncy."
"Would you have used it a minute ago," Blaise countered immediately, "if you'd had one."
"Damn straight, I would have!" Draco snapped.
Blaise shrugged, not saying anything.
With an irritated sigh, Draco had to admit he didn't *have* to say anything, his point had been well made. Unfortunately, it did nothing to alter the fact that Blaise, with his larger size, and advantageous position, had held all the cards. If he hadn't wanted to stop, Draco wouldn't have had much choice in the matter -- safe word or no safe word. He pointed that out, only a touch bitterly.
Again, Blaise shrugged. "Think about it, Draco. This may not be something you're used to, but girls have to think about it all the time."
Draco frowned, *really* not liking the comparison.
"Look, a safe word isn't going to do squat if some guy, bigger and nastier than you gets you into a position you can't get at your wand. That's not what it's for."
"Then what the bloody hell is it good for!?" Draco snapped, still smarting from Blaise's 'lesson'.
Blaise shook his head. "You mentioned that Randolph guy from last night, and how Potter covered your arse about it being a game, a game where you needed . . . convincing."
Warily, Draco nodded, not sure where this was headed.
"Say, some night, you and Potter actually play that one out."
Draco almost groaned at that, his traitorous body hardening damn near instantly. **Well that answers *that* question with finality!** he thought sourly.
"Potter sets about 'convincing' you," Blaise continued on blithely, apparently unaware, or uncaring, of Draco's very visceral reaction to his words. "This might include a bit of force, maybe even pushing you around a bit." Blaise's voice dropped, his words taking on a hypnotic cadence that effectively ensnared Draco's imagination.
Draco could picture it happening as Blaise seductively set the scene. Swallowing convulsively, he sees himself, wide-eyed, a touch fearful, backing away from Potter, the look in the Gryffindor's eyes a match for the one in Blaise's earlier.
After a not so gentle shove, Draco is sprawled across a bed, crawling backwards as Potter joins him. A few, hot, mind-melting kisses, and Potter, traps his wrists, efficiently tying them to the bedposts. A tiny thrill of fear shoots through Draco adding to the fire of arousal that is already making his trousers far too tight.
"And then, he pulls back, stands above you and pulls his wand."
"What?!" Draco exclaimed, rudely wrenched from the delightful fantasy.
Blaise smirks, otherwise ignoring Draco's indignant outburst. "You're all tied up, can't get away, can't get to your wand. He says you've been a bad little boy and need to be. . . ." Here, Blaise's smirk grows. "Punished. He tells you he's going to cast the cruciatus."
"Potter?" Draco scoffed. "He wouldn't dare."
"Doesn't matter!" Blaise snapped. "It's an example. I chose it not because it's something Potter would do, but because its something I'm reasonably sure you'd draw the line at."
"Damn straight!"
"Fine, now if I may continue?"
Smirking too, now, Draco nodded.
"At that point, you use your safe word. That way, Potter knows it's *you* really saying no, not 'Malfoy who is getting convinced,' protesting his 'unwilling' seduction."
That actually made sense, a whole new vista of possibilities opening up in Draco's mind, and he wondered just how far Potter's kinks went, because Draco was suddenly realizing that *his* seemed to go pretty far.
Blaise suddenly laughed, once again jerking Draco out of some very pleasant imaginings.
Draco frowned as the other Slytherin headed for the door.
"Have fun, Draco," Blaise called out, grinning as he reached for the handle. "Get him out of your system. Just don't let him make you forget who you are. Don't let him sweep you into a bad situation."
Before Draco could make a reply, Blaise was out of the room, the door shutting quietly behind him. "I guess that answered *that* unasked question," Draco mused a bit sadly, still not completely sure where *he* stood on the issue.
