𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 18

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but if your marks in potions don’t improve soon, I’ll have to rethink my offer,” Professor McGonagall said. “Didn’t you take my advice?”

“What advice?” Harry started dumbly at her.

“You don’t remember that I suggested that you ask Mr. Malfoy for help?”

“Uh...” Harry felt his cheeks redden. The last thing he wanted was to ask Malfoy for help, especially after the incident in the dorm the night before.

“I know you have your differences, but he really is an excellent potions student. You could do worse.” She tried a frosty smile. “And if you two can be seen to get on well, then it will do wonders for in-house unity.”

“I’ve tried,” Harry mumbled, lowering his head and fiddling with his wand. “But he’s not very... uh... amenable.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Harry groaned inwardly. He was hoping that the Headmistress would suggest someone else, but it seemed everyone and everything was conspiring to throw him and Malfoy together.

“Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall raised her voice. “You may come in now.”

AAAAARGH!

Harry shrunk further into his chair as Malfoy entered the room. He sat in the chair next to Harry and coolly refused McGonagall’s offer of tea and a biscuit.

“As you may have noticed, Mr. Potter’s marks in potions have not improved,” McGonagall started without preamble. “And I know that you two have not always seen eye-to-eye, but if he is to teach, he needs some extra help. I’m asking you to give that help as you are, without doubt, the best potions student in the school.”

“Teach?” Malfoy’s voice dripped irony. “He wants to teach...when he’s not even capable of learning how to mix a first year potion?”

Harry looked up at Malfoy. “There’s some subjects even you aren’t capable of learning,” he snarled. “Since when have you been able to conjure a corporeal patronus?”

“Since never,” Malfoy said coolly, but then, I never needed to learn, considering I didn’t faint like a girl every time a Dementor...”

“Gentlemen!” McGonagall’s voice cut through their argument.

Both Harry and Malfoy broke off and gave her their attention.

“Mr. Malfoy, you will assist Mr. Potter to improve his marks and, Mr. Potter, as you have just pointed out, Mr. Malfoy’s defence knowledge is sorely lacking. I suggest you help him in turn. I will ask Professor Slughorn to let you use the potions laboratory after hours, and you may use my classroom for Defence lessons.”

“But, Headmistr...” Malfoy started.

“That’s all, gentlemen.” Her tone brooked no argument. Without a word, both Harry and Malfoy rose and left her study.

“If you think I’m teaching you anything...” Malfoy started.

“There’s no way I’m teaching you how to...” Harry growled at the same time. They both stopped, then stared at each other. Malfoy’s pale eyes glared into Harry’s for a moment, and Harry noted how thin Malfoy had become. He looked exhausted with dark shadows under his eyes, his skin grey, his hair lank.

Harry shook his head. “This is stupid,” he said at last. “We have to teach each other. Why can’t we just...”

Malfoy smirked unpleasantly and Harry wondered why he thought himself attracted to the Slytherin. “I know what this is, Potter,” he said, and Harry suddenly wished that his surname began with a J or a B or a Z – something soft that couldn’t be spat from those perfect lips with such venom. “You’re hoping I’ll teach you a few other things – like how to fuck.” He sidled closer until Harry could feel the heat of him against his chest. “Do you want me to teach you?” His long, slim fingers stroked Harry’s thigh.

Harry jumped as if burned and backed off. “Get off me. Don’t touch me!”

Malfoy grinned. “That’s not what you were saying to the Weasel last night.”

If looks could maim, the one Harry gave Malfoy would have had the Slytherin carried out in a bucket. “Just because I might be gay it doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck the first bloke who offers.”

“Funny that, because I was under the impression that that was exactly what you wanted to do.” Malfoy moved closer again, backing Harry into the nearby wall. “You liked it when I kissed you, didn’t you, Potter? You ran to the bathroom and jerked off, and I bet you never came so hard in your life.”

Harry knew that his face was practically glowing. If he got any hotter, he’d be classed as fiendfyre. Fighting to catch his breath, he put a hand up to ward Malfoy off, but his hand came into contact with Malfoy’s shirt, the cool cotton hiding an equal heat below his fingers. Malfoy pressed closer, his grey eyes gleaming. Suddenly, he grabbed Harry’s wrists and slammed them back against the wall, pressing his whole body against Harry’s own. Harry couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped from his lips and hated the feral grin that it created on Malfoy’s face.

“Oh yes... you want me,” Malfoy whispered. His lips were almost touching Harry’s own, his breath hot and sweet against Harry’s mouth. “I can feel you – how hard you are for me.” His hips rubbed harshly across Harry’s crotch so that Harry could feel his own hard-on. The feeling was indescribable – he wanted more, but he didn’t. He wanted to touch, but he couldn’t – wouldn’t.

Another whimper, and Harry tried to push Malfoy away. “Don’t...”

“Why not?” Malfoy traced the line of his jaw with a wet tongue and Harry’s knees almost buckled. Ohgodohgodohgod!

No – he couldn’t. He mustn’t! He had to stop this, somehow. His feverish mind seized on the evening before.

“What news did your owl bring, last night?” he managed to grate out between his teeth. “It seemed to upset you quite a bit.”

Abruptly Malfoy let him go. He backed away, eyes wide and startled. “Fuck off, Potter!” he spat and, turning, hurried away, leaving Harry leaning weakly against the wall, blood thundering in his ears and in his cock, his heart hammering wildly.

Slowly he straightened up and put his rumpled uniform to rights, then ran his fingers through his hair and wiped his still wet jaw. Taking several deep breaths, he continued back to the dorm – by way of the boys’ toilet.