Fic: Within These Walls (Part Three)

[hpraremod]

Part Three

“Finnigan.”

The call is short and the voice is curt, and Seamus has been waiting for it for quite a while. He’s been out of the hospital wing for three days and has caught Malfoy looking at him no less than twelve times. Stupid, stupid Malfoy who wears his heart on his sleeve and has You-Know-Who in his house and a psychopathic family and who was gone the morning after he’d kissed Seamus in the hospital wing.

“Hello lover,” Seamus says with a grin and a quirked eyebrow. The look Malfoy sends his way is nothing short of vitriolic.

“Shut up,” he hisses. “I am not your-” he breaks off and flushes, as if he’s only just realised that Seamus is taking the piss. “Whatever.”

“What do you want?” Seamus asks.

“Have you told anyone?” Malfoy asks bluntly. “About, you know.”

“You kissing me?” Seamus supplies, and Malfoy’s blush turns blotchy pink. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“Because no-one can find out,” Malfoy says forcefully. “If they do-”

“I know,” Seamus says abruptly. “Torture and death and all that jazz.”

“Finnigan.”

“I get it, alright?” Seamus interrupts with a sigh. “Keep your knickers on. I won’t tell.”

Malfoy nods. He doesn’t say anything more, and shifts from foot to foot. He’s as awkward as ever, too thin and too pointy. “So. What does this make us?”

Seamus rolls his eyes. “You’re such a girl,” he says.

Malfoy’s face twists. “I am not.”

“We kissed. I was off my face on pain potions and asked you to kiss me. It doesn’t make us anything,” Seamus says flatly. “We’re on different sides in a war, Malfoy.”

Malfoy rubs the back of his neck, beautifully uncomfortable. “I don’t know what side I’m on,” he mumbles, and Seamus feels something strange in his chest at the words. It’s almost as if Malfoy really isn’t one of them anymore, what with all the things he says and does.

“Right, yeah. Because your family is basically being held hostage by the bad guy yet you’re having a crisis of morals and have fallen madly in love with the sexy Irish hero?”

Malfoy narrows his eyes. “I thought Potter was the hero,” he says flippantly.

Seamus stares belligerently back. “Have you ever kissed Potter?”

“Not fucking likely,” Malfoy says with a snort. “And just for the record, one kiss doesn’t mean I love you.”

“Considering the circumstances, I’d say it means quite a lot.”

Malfoy looks at Seamus, his expression guarded and careful. He pulls his bag more securely onto his shoulder, fiddling with the strap. Seamus watches his slender fingers and suddenly wants them on his skin again. He wants Malfoy’s mouth on his again.

“See you around, Finnigan,” Malfoy murmurs and then he’s gone.

***
“Don’t you dare!”

Seamus ducks the body bind that Parvati shoots his way. It hits the bookcase behind him and the few battered tomes fall to the floor, one squeaking indignantly.

“Oi! I get hit with enough hexes without you adding to the mix!”

“You go through that portrait hole and I am never going to talk you again,” Parvati says, and Seamus has never seen her so angry. Oddly, she looks prettier than ever.

“Oh come off it,” Seamus says, but her jaw is clenched and she’s not backing down. Neville is watching the scene from across the common room, where he’s sat with some first years. “The curfew is stupid.”

“It’s not about the curfew though, is it?” Parvati demands. “You’re going out to find yet another way to piss Snape off.”

Seamus frowns at her. “You never swear.”

“Oh my god!” she shrieks, and she takes a step towards him. “How is it you’re missing the point, again? How many more times do we have to patch you up? How many more times are we going to find you in the hospital wing? For goodness sake, Seamus – we know Dean is gone but there’s no reason for you to act like you have a deathwish-”

Seamus feels his whole body go rigid with anger. Everyone knows better than to mention Dean to him, and he’s a breath away from losing it with her for talking about him like that, like he’s never coming back.

“Shut up,” he says, voice low and dangerous. It’s taking most of his self-control not to shout. “Dean is not gone. He’s fine.”

“How do you know that?” Parvati asks. The common room has fallen silent.

“He’s fine,” Seamus repeats, “and I’ll forgive you all if you stop acting like everyone is already dead!”

He stops caring about hurting her feelings, his voice rising to a shout as he storms towards the portrait hole.

Parvati lets him go.

***

Seamus looks left and right, his heart thumping in his chest. The evening is quiet and dark and cold. Spring is well on the way but you’d never know for being inside Hogwarts; the sunlight barely seems to warm the air outside, let alone the depths of the castle.

He flexes his fingers and they still ache from being broken. Madam Pomfrey is running out of both Skele-grow and patience.

The coast is clear so he steps forwards, pulling his wand out. He looks at the blank expanse of wall and wonders what to write. Neville is normally the one to come up with the witty slogans – Seamus is thinking of something more to the point, like ‘fuck off, Snape.’

He knows this is stupid but since Parvati mentioned Dean he can’t get rid of the horrid twist of feelings in his chest. He needs to do something, anything that will take his mind off of it.

He raises his wand and touches it to the wall.

“Are you bloody kidding me?”

He jumps a mile in shock as the voice rings out, and he wheels around to see Malfoy is walking forwards him, looking furious. He breathes out unsteadily, almost laughing in relief and the knot in his chest easing as he realises he’s not about to be cursed.

“I’m decorating,” Seamus says brightly, unable to resist winding Malfoy up even at times like this.“Care to join me?”

“Those Crucio’s have messed with your brain,” Malfoy snarls. “Get out of here, you idiot.”

“Not a chance,” Seamus replies defiantly.

Malfoy gapes at him. “I’m giving you a chance,” he says. “For god’s sake, take it.”

“Just pretend you never saw me,” Seamus shrugs and turns his back on Malfoy, facing the wall and raising his wand.

“Stop it,” Malfoy says forcefully, and he grabs Seamus’s arm and yanks him away, fingers digging in tightly. Seamus stumbles and then shoves Malfoy away.

“Fuck off,” he snaps. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t let you do it,” Malfoy says, and he sounds more determined than Seamus has heard in weeks.

“Why, because you’d rather be putting up a framed portrait of You-know-Who?” Seamus says flippantly, and he knows it’s a low blow considering what Malfoy has had to deal with at home.

Malfoy flinches. “No, because-”

He breaks off and whips around, looking panicked. Seamus opens his mouth but then he hears it too; raised voices and echoing footsteps heading their way.

“Run!”

Seamus doesn’t need Malfoy to tell him what to do but now isn’t the time for an argument. They both move at the same time, breaking into a run and legging it down the transfiguration corridor and away from the voices. Malfoy is a step behind him but running just as fast as Seamus.

“Astronomy tower,” he gasps and Seamus sprints over to the door to the stairwell, yanking it open and darting through. The stairs are torture to keep running up but they don’t stop, their footsteps and panting breaths echoing noisily against the stone.

A stitch is knifing through his ribs when they reach the top. Malfoy pushes past him and staggers to the wall, leaning forwards over it, his back heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Seamus watches him, leaning forwards with his hands on his knees.

“Fuckin’ hell, you can run,” he gasps out.

Malfoy nods breathlessly, his face pink. “So can you.”

Slowly their breathing returns to normal. Malfoy raises his head from where he’s had it pillowed on his forearms and turns around, leaning back on the wall. He runs his hand through his hair and then draws his wand, quietly conjuring some of the same glowing lights that Seamus has seen before.

“Who were we even running from?” Seamus breaks the silence.

Malfoy shrugs. One of the lights bobs down near his face and he bats it away with the back of his hand. “Probably Crabbe. He’s on patrol.”

“How’s it feel running from your friends?” Seamus asks, and he walks over to stand next to Malfoy.

“He’s not the same,” Malfoy says after a while, his voice low and quiet, and he sounds genuinely sad. “He…he doesn’t understand. He’s just…I don’t think he really understands how bad it is. He only sees what’s right in front of his nose, he doesn’t get the bigger picture.”

“Looks like you’re the only one who does,” Seamus says, turning to lean back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.

“I don’t get how they can just think this is okay,” Malfoy says, the words bursting out of him as if they’ve been held back for weeks. “Unforgivables shouldn’t just be…I know before that I – I didn’t give a fuck about them being unforgivable, but then she turns up and starts aiming them at me – I told Crabbe and Goyle, but they wouldn’t – they’ve never been Crucio’d, so how the hell do they know what it feels like?”

“They don’t,” Seamus says quietly.

“Exactly. And the Carrows. They’re even worse because they know what it feels like and they still-”

He breaks off, shaking his head. He bites his lip, looking contemplative. “You’re not going to tell anyone if we talk, are you?”

“I didn’t tell anyone we kissed,” Seamus says.

Malfoy laughs shortly. “I suppose.”

“Which would be worse? Them finding out we kissed or that we talked?”

“Both,” Malfoy says, and he opens his mouth to speak again but no sound comes out. He goes – if possible – even paler and his eyes go wide and terrified and then Seamus hears the noise which has made Malfoy seize up in fright; footsteps on stone echoing up the stairwell. Malfoy twitches violently and breaks out of his stupor, looking around wildly as if looking for somewhere to hide. Seamus’s heart has leapt into the base of his throat because there is nowhere to go up here except back down the stairs or over the edge of the tower.

“Quick, into the corner,” Malfoy whispers frantically, and Seamus obediently backs up into the shadows. Malfoy points his wand at Seamus as Seamus flinches, raising his hands in front of his face. Before he can berate himself for showing even a modicum of fear, he feels the sensation of something cold trickling down his body. It feels strange but it doesn’t hurt in any way, and as he looks down at his hands to check he still has all ten fingers he starts in surprise; his hands are now a mottled grey colour which matches the flagstones beneath his feet. Malfoy has turned him into a human chameleon.

He watches with wide eyes as Malfoy shoves his wand down the neck of his shirt and stands still, fidgeting uncomfortably before turning back to the wall. He places his hands on the stone and Seamus can see they’re shaking.

“Who’s up here?” a rough voice shouts and Seamus’s heart sinks. Malfoy flinches but stays exactly where he is.

Amycus Carrow rounds the top step and Seamus holds his breath, pressing his palms to the cold stone behind him.

“What are you doing up here?” he asks suspiciously, eyes on Malfoy. “Reliving memories of your failure?”

Malfoy trembles. “Something like that.”

Amycus steps forwards and his eyes sweep the tower. Seamus braces himself but the eyes pass him by without pause. Seamus exhaled shakily, his faith in Malfoy’s charming ability renewed, and gratitude for the pointy, blond bastard swelling in his chest.

“Snape wants a word with you,” Amycus turns his attention back to Malfoy. “Now.”

“I’ll go later,” Malfoy says, looking steadfastly down at his hands.

“You’ll go now,” Amycus says dangerously.

“You can’t make me,” Malfoy bursts out, sounding humiliated and angry. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Amycus moves with startling speed; he strides of and grabs Malfoy’s shoulder, roughly turning him round. He grabs Malfoy by his upper arms and Malfoy cries out in pain.

“I should pitch you off the top of this tower,” he snarls, shaking Malfoy and pushing him back over the stone wall. Seamus clenches his fists and swallows thickly, feeling helpless and furious and panicking because somehow he can’t bear the thought of anything happening to Malfoy, not now.

“Don’t,” Malfoy pleads, voice high pitched and wavering. “You can’t.”

“Can’t I?” Amycus laughs and pushes Malfoy back further. His feet stumble on the floor and his spine is bent back so far that if Amycus lets him go he’ll probably fall. Amycus presses him further and Malfoy makes a strangled whimper in the back of his throat, terrified.

“The only reason you are still alive is because the Dark Lord doesn’t want to waste your precious blood,” Amycus says, giving him another shake. “Come June you’ll be married off and if you haven’t knocked your wife up within a week…”

The threat is left unspoken, emphasised by Amycus leaning Malfoy back as far as he can go. Malfoy cries out and then his chest heaves in a strangled sob and he starts to cry.

“You make me sick,” Amycus says, looking disgusted. “I’d off you now if I could get away with it.”

He hauls Malfoy forwards and then drops him to the cold stone floor of the astronomy tower. He kicks out at him and then turns on his heel and leaves. Malfoy stays where he is, curled in a ball and sobbing so hard that his whole body shakes.

The moment Amycus is gone Seamus moves, drawing his wand. He finites the charm that Malfoy used to hide him and then casts a notice-me-not charm on the stairwell. It’s not much but it’s all he can do.

He walks over to Malfoy and kneels down next to him, feeling something horrible twisting through his stomach. It’s like seeing Ginny cry and thinking about Dean being gone all in one. He dithers for a moment, words failing him for the first time he can remember.

“Stop crying,” he opts for saying, and grabs Malfoy and hauls him into a sitting position. “Come on.” He pulls his sleeve down over his hand and roughly wipes Malfoy’s face. Malfoy coughs and takes a deep shuddering breath and pulls himself together. He pushes himself up onto his knees so Seamus doesn’t have to hold him up, and then wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Seamus says, his voice low. “You could have said you’d chased me up here.”

“What, and you get cursed again?” Malfoy says, his voice shaking.

Seamus fights the urge to touch Malfoy’s hair for about three seconds, and then reaches out to brush his fingers over the closely cropped hairs above Malfoy’s ear. Malfoy doesn’t shy away or arch into the touch, he just blinks and says nothing.

“You’re such a….” Seamus says helplessly.

“Mess?” Malfoy offers, laughing thickly.

“Well, that,” Seamus concedes. “But that’s not what I meant. That was pretty fucking brave of you to take the wrap for that one. He could have pitched you off the tower.”

Malfoy swallows and Seamus watches his adams-apple move in his throat. Malfoy rubs his face with his palm, covering his eyes. “It was the right thing to do,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sure. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t think it was in your nature to do things for other people.”

“It’s not,” Malfoy says bitterly, lowering his hand. “But looking out for myself isn’t working out that well, so what the fuck. I might as well turn to rescuing Gryffindors.”

Seamus laughs, the sound as bright and unexpected as Malfoy making a joke. “You’re an enigma, is what you are,” he says and then he kisses him. Malfoy makes a startled noise in the back of his throat but then he kisses Seamus back and it’s so much better than last time.

Malfoy opens his mouth under Seamus’s, his trembling hands coming up to cup the back of Seamus’s neck, and Seamus gently touches his tongue against Malfoy’s and Malfoy breathes in sharply through his nose before responding. Their mouths move together and Seamus fists Malfoy’s jumper in his hand and pulls him closer, not even caring that it’s Malfoy he’s kissing. He aches with want and he’s missed this so much; missed the way another bloke feels against him.

“I-” Malfoy breathes against his mouth, but Seamus shuts him up with a kiss.

“Don’t you dare ruin the moment by talking,” Seamus says, pressing their foreheads together.

“Alright,” Malfoy whispers, and he gently kisses Seamus again. Seamus isn’t in the mood for gentle. He just wants more – he’s filled with madness which just wants as much of Malfoy as he can get, if only to forget about the rest of the world for a while. Malfoy seems to understand, he kisses Seamus back hard, and it’s messy with clacking teeth and bumping noses but they don’t – can’t – stop. Malfoy’s tongue is in Seamus’s mouth, thrusting crudely and god, it’s making Seamus crazy with want.

Malfoy tears himself away, panting, his forehead pressed to Seamus’s. His eyes are screwed tightly shut. “This is,” he breathes. “This is so stupid-”

“Yeah I know,” Seamus replies, his hand on the back of Malfoy’s neck. “But what are you gonna do?”

Malfoy laughs weakly and Seamus kisses him again. Malfoy doesn’t stop him.

***

Seamus falls back onto his bed, body exhausted but mind still wide awake. He doesn’t bother to check what time it is; he knows it’s ridiculously late and he can’t bring himself to care. His whole body is still on edge from the time he’s spent kissing Draco Malfoy, kissing until they both had swollen lips and erections that neither had managed to hide for very long.

He doesn’t know what to think of it. On the most basic level it had felt good; the thrumming of his body even half an hour after they’ve stopped kissing is proof enough of that. Half of him had been telling him to stop, that snogging Malfoy was a monumentally bad idea, that he couldn’t be trusted and that Seamus should be running as fast as possible in the other direction.

The other half couldn’t ignore how Malfoy had lied to protect him, yet again. He couldn’t ignore the way Malfoy didn’t seem to want to commit to a side; even though he wasn’t one of the good guys, he couldn’t exactly be called a bad guy either. He thinks about what Malfoy had said earlier, his attempt at conversation, full of broken endings and false starts. He wonders if Malfoy would be happy to join the Death Eaters if he’d not been on the receiving end of a few unforgivables, and then decides it doesn’t matter. Malfoy isn’t happy about it, and that’s a start. Maybe if Malfoy starts to question what they’re doing, maybe he’ll also start questioning the why. Seamus doesn’t know how deeply ingrained all that pure-blood supremacy bullshit is – for all he knows Malfoy still believes it and is just objecting to the pain and inconvenience.

But then again, Malfoy knows full well that Seamus is an out and proud half-blood, and it doesn’t seem to have stopped him kissing him, again.

Seamus draws the curtains of his bed with a flick of his wand, wondering if he should tell Neville what has happened. He decides against it almost instantly; Malfoy is his secret to keep and he doesn’t know if Neville would understand. Yeah, they’ve all acknowledged that there’s something not right with Malfoy, but Seamus doesn’t think that would extend to the others being alright with Seamus snogging him.

Another part of him doesn’t want to get Malfoy in trouble. He knows that the more people he tells, the more dangerous it gets. If word got back to the other side that Malfoy has been anything but horrible to Seamus, he’s certain Malfoy will have hell to pay. And considering the hell that is currently residing in Malfoy’s home… for once keeping his mouth shut seems like the more sensible option.

He pulls his jumper, tie and shirt off, wondering if Malfoy is already asleep or not. His mind immediately provides him an image of Malfoy in bed, lying back with his eyes open, maybe thinking about all the same things that Seamus is.

Another image quickly follows that one; Malfoy on his bed and completely naked, unable to stop thinking about kissing Seamus, body taut and tense from the heated snogging, hand slipping down his body to take hold of his prick-

At least those feelings towards Malfoy are easy enough to decipher. Seamus draws in a shaking breath and then reaches for the button on his trousers, slipping a hand into his underwear and biting his lip.

He tosses off hurriedly, giving in and deciding not to care that it’s Draco fucking Malfoy he’s wanking over. He thinks of Malfoy’s tongue flicking against his own and the hands that ran distractedly over his shoulders. He imagines what would have happened if he’d touched Malfoy’s prick, reaching out to rub his fingers against the hardness that he’d caused-

He comes with a shuddering gasp, an imagined picture of pale hands working him burning in the forefront of his mind.

***

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

Seamus stares down at his notes, repeating the phrase over and over in his head. He knows Malfoy is sitting directly opposite him again, and it’s less than twenty-four hours since they kissed. Seamus wants to look up and wink, maybe shoot a cheeky smile in Malfoy’s direction but he can’t. Trust this fucking war to take all the fun out of flirting as well.

He lasts a whole ten minutes before he gives in. As McGonagall turns to look at Parvati’s work, he looks up at Malfoy and his stomach jolts as their eyes meet.

Heart thudding, he looks away, realising that he’d do it all again, no questions asked.

***

“Malfoy was watching you again,” Neville says as he sits down beside Seamus at the Gryffindor table. “During Charms.”

Seamus shrugs. “Maybe he fancies me.”

Neville snorts with tired laughter and turns to get himself some juice. “Yeah, right.”

Seamus smiles faintly, picking at the crust of his sandwich. Neville obviously has no clue, but that’s fine with him. He wonders if Dean would have worked it out by now if he were here. Under normal circumstances, probably not. Dean’s always too bothered about trying to steal his girlfriend back from Harry to pay any attention to Seamus’s love life, or lack thereof.

“What are you smiling about?” Neville asks, frown evident in his tone.

“Nothing” Seamus says, not wanting to share the mild amusement he gets from thinking that maybe his kissing Malfoy would be enough to make Dean pause in his Ginny watching and ask ‘you what?’

***

“What the fuck is this?”

Seamus turns at the sound of a familiar and oh-so annoyed drawl, leaning back on the parapet of the astronomy tower. He raises an eyebrow at Malfoy, who is standing at the top of the stairway and holding a piece of parchment in his hand.

“A note asking you to meet me?”

It’s technically more than that, but Seamus doesn’t say that bit out loud. It’s a challenge of sorts considering the meeting place; he wanted to see if Malfoy had the stones to come back up here after what happened last time.

“You fucking idiot,” Malfoy snaps, all bristling vitriol. “What if someone else had got it? Your fucking kneazle-scratch handwriting wouldn’t be hard to match-”

“Shut up, I’m not that stupid. I charmed it so only you can read it.”

Malfoy visibly deflates. He looks down at the note. “Oh,” he says, voice small, and then tries to regroup and claw back some of his ire. “But why did you ask me to meet you? What if we get caught?”

Seamus ignores the second question. He pushes away from the wall and walks slowly over towards Malfoy, who seems almost frozen in place, watching Seamus slowly advance.

“Why do you think I asked you to meet me?” Seamus asks. “I can’t very well snog you in class, can I?”

Malfoy’s mouth falls open in disbelief and Seamus’s mind instantly goes to the gutter. He pulls it out with effort and folds his arms across his chest. Christ, but he wants that pointy, blond bastard.

“I thought it was a one off.” Malfoy breaks the silence, looking unsure.

Seamus shrugs. “Do you want it to be a one-off?”

A cleft appears between Malfoy’s eyebrows. He frowns and looks down at his feet for a moment before looking up. His expression still hesitant, he steps forwards. When Seamus doesn’t move, he steps forwards again, close enough so they can touch.

“I still think this is stupid,” he says helplessly, and Seamus unfolds his arms and reaches for him.

“So do I,” he says honestly and then they’re kissing, holding onto each other like they never want to let go.

***

Seamus spots Malfoy long before Malfoy spots him. They’re walking along the corridor towards each other, both caught in the flow of students making their way to class. There are no teachers – fake or otherwise – about so Seamus keeps his eyes on Malfoy. He looks thinner.

Malfoy spots him when they’re only ten feet apart. His grey eyes lock on Seamus’s, blinking slowly. Seamus raises an eyebrow marginally and Malfoy nods almost imperceptibly.

Later?

Yes.

They look away, everything that needs to be said accomplished with a few looks. Seamus pulls his bag onto his shoulder more securely and then as they pass, he feels long fingers brush deliberately against his.

Malfoy is gone and out of sight by the time Seamus realises that he’s in major trouble. In his gut he senses that inexplicably, Malfoy has turned from a simple puzzle into a major conundrum.

Somehow, Seamus has gone from being mildly intrigued by Malfoy to being completely hooked. It’s no longer about the casual snogging, the dicing with danger, the rebellious streak that compels him to return to Malfoy again and again. Now it seems to be about the concern in Malfoy’s eyes when he sees Seamus with fresh bruises, the way he ignores the Carrows and still doesn’t join in with the bullying. Seamus realises that it’s about the way Malfoy brushes his fringe out of his eyes with shaking fingers, the curve of his jaw and the way his legs seem to go on forever.

Bollocks.

***

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Seamus pants against Malfoy’s mouth as desperate hands clutch at his waist. Malfoy pauses and pulls back, mouth swollen and hair messed from Seamus’s hands.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“Occasionally,” Seamus says. “So you haven’t?”

“No,” Malfoy says, and kisses him again. It lasts all of ten seconds before Malfoy’s brain catches up and he leans back against with a frown. “Why?”

Seamus shrugs, hands on Malfoy’s hips and thumbs tracing his hipbones. “Snape keeps watching me.”

“That’s because you keep writing shit over his walls,” Malfoy says, and Seamus doesn’t know if Malfoy is being stupid or wilfully ignorant. He suspects it’s the latter.

Malfoy captures his mouth again and as always, Seamus forgets all about everything but the taste of Malfoy’s mouth and the way he breathes, short and breathless and like he never wants to stop.

Seamus isn’t sure he ever wants to stop.

Shaking fingers move across Seamus’s hip and brush his belt buckle, and Seamus gaps into the kiss, his pulse surging. Malfoy’s fingers have been wandering more boldly each time they manage to steal time together, and despite being in the middle of a war Seamus is so fucking horny he just wants to shove his hands down Malfoy’s trousers and be done with it.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Do it.”

“Do what?” Malfoy pants in reply, and Seamus isn’t sure if he’s being thick or deliberately coy. When he catches the brief flash of a smirk he realises it’s the latter. It makes a thrill run down his spine; Malfoy’s smirk has been noticeable by its absence lately and he’s oddly thankful to see it.

Malfoy doesn’t seem to need an answer. His fingers move again and slowly, agonisingly slowly, pull Seamus’s belt open. They both look down, watching his fingers as they reach for the button of his trousers.

Heart thudding in his chest, Seamus looks up and meets Malfoy’s eyes. Malfoy doesn’t look away; he keeps his eyes locked on Seamus’s as his fingers flip open the button on Seamus’s trousers and slowly lower the zip. It’s another challenge – always a challenge with them – as Seamus silently dares Malfoy to do it.

Dexterous fingers slide into his trousers, into his underwear and Seamus finally shuts his eyes, head falling back against the wall behind. Malfoy crowds close, his mouth breathing unsteadily against Seamus’s.

No going back now, he thinks in some remote part of his brain that isn’t consumed by the feel of Malfoy’s hand on him. He’s not sure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing, all things considered.

***

“Hurts?”

“What do you think?” Seamus asks through gritted teeth. He’s sat on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom that Moaning Myrtle used to haunt before she ran away, and yes, it fucking hurts.

Malfoy carefully dabs at the cut that nearly took Seamus’s ear off, the hex slicing down the side of his face like a knife. He’s kneeling down next to Seamus’s crossed legs, wand pointed at his face. Seamus can’t even be bothered to find it funny how that no longer makes him think he’s going to be cursed.

“One, two – sana volneratio.”

Seamus yelps and jerks away. He clamps a hand to his ear. “What the fuck?” he asks, reaching out and shoving sharply at Malfoy’s shoulder. “You’re supposed to go on three!”

“I did,” Malfoy says, shoving him back indignantly. “If I’d have said three I would have gone on four.”

Seamus glares at him but doesn’t snap back because the pain in his ear has lessened considerably. He gingerly fingers it, feeling a scabbed over cut where the open gash was.

“I didn’t want to heal it completely,” Malfoy says, reaching out to grab Seamus’s chin, turning his face so he can see the wound. “Not many people would know how to fix that. It’d be suspicious if it just disappeared.”

Seamus nods. Malfoy puts his wand away and sits back, crossing his legs and slumping down. He rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, suddenly looking a million miles away. His face looks vacant and pale, like he normally does when he’s not with Seamus. Seamus has noticed this happening more and more frequently over the past couple of weeks, and he wonders why.

He doesn’t ask. Instead, he reaches out and presses his fingertips to Malfoy’s bottom lip. Malfoy blinks and seems to return to himself, gently biting down on Seamus’s fingertips with perfectly straight white teeth. Seamus shivers as Malfoy’s tongue traces the edge of his fingernail, the sort of bold move that Malfoy only ever reveals when the mood turns sexual. It’s as if there’s a stronger, more confident Malfoy hiding somewhere under the layers of fear and indecision.

Seamus pulls his hand away from Malfoy’s mouth and slips it onto the back of Malfoy’s neck, tugging him close. Their mouths meet and as always, Seamus forgets all about everything else in the world but Malfoy. He forgets about the cracked tiles and the dripping taps around them, forgets about how stupid it is that this is the only place they can vaguely call theirs.

Malfoy seems oddly attached to the abandoned bathroom, but Seamus has no plans to ask him why, especially not when Malfoy is breathing heavily into his mouth, ragged and full of need. Seamus kisses him hard, grabbing his bony wrists and yanking him forwards, pulling and tugging until Malfoy ends up in his lap, long legs either side of Seamus’s hips and crotch tantalisingly close to Seamus’s own.

Seamus holds him close as they kiss frantically and desperately, his hands on Malfoy’s back and Malfoy’s on his cheeks, elbows pressed tightly between them as he arches his back just enough. Seamus slides his hands down Malfoy’s back and yanks him closer; they both gasp as their burgeoning erections fleetingly press together. Fuck, Seamus hopes Malfoy has enough presence of mind to get his dick out so they don’t end up coming in their trousers like they’re fourteen, again.

He remembers the day before yesterday, hidden in that alcove on the fourth floor with Malfoy’s cool fingers wrapped around him, tossing him off as Malfoy swallowed Seamus’s gasps with his mouth. He remembers the first time he actually touched Malfoy, skin on skin, here in this very bathroom. He remembers Malfoy’s mouth, hanging open as he panted, eyes screwed shut as Seamus groped his way into his trousers, jerking him roughly and unable to fully believe what he was actually doing.

“Christ,” Malfoy whispers against his mouth, voice broken in a way Seamus can’t figure out. He slides a hand into Seamus’s hair, gripping painfully. His cheek presses against Seamus’s, a hint of stubble roughly scratching his skin. Seamus tries to yank Malfoy closer again, willing to concede and get off just by frotting against him if Malfoy is planning on being difficult, but then Malfoy whispers two words that make him freeze in place, hands grasping as Malfoy’s waist.

“Fuck me.”

Seamus pulls back in shock. It seems that Malfoy has found yet another way to surprise him after all. He’s currently staring at Seamus’s shoulder, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

“Yerwhat?”

“You heard me,” Malfoy says, voice trembling. His eyes flick up to Seamus’s for a moment and Seamus is astounded to realise that he’d deadly serious. The taps drip behind them, soft plinks of sound in the background.

“You want me to…? Here? Now?”

“Unless you’re scared,” Malfoy says, a mulish tilt to his chin, bravado almost masking his fear. He sounds lost and desperate in a way Seamus has never encountered before.

“Are you sure?” Seamus asks, and Malfoy nods.

“Yes,” he whispers in that same broken voice, kissing Seamus’s mouth once more. “Yes.”

Seamus doesn’t ask again. He’s eighteen, for fucks sake – he’s aching with want and he’s not going to turn down the opportunity for a shag, especially not when Malfoy has asked him to do it. Malfoy slides back out of Seamus’s lap and undoes his belt, hands shaking. Oddly, Seamus feels like he should be doing it for him.

Instead, he goes to unbutton his own trousers, pulse thudding in his ears and something fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t think he’s nervous – he’s done this a couple of times before and besides, even if he hadn’t, he’s seen enough porn to know what he’s doing.

It briefly crosses his mind to ask Malfoy if he’s done this before. He decides it doesn’t matter; his mouth goes dry as he watches Malfoy push his trousers and pants down in one go. His school-shirt is almost long enough to cover his crotch but Seamus still gets a glimpse of his prick, his own jerking in response.

He reaches for Malfoy’s trousers and pulls them completely down and off, giving his underwear the same treatment. Malfoy’s cheeks are pink, blotchy with embarrassment as he tries to cover himself with the bottom of his shirt. Hands shaking, Seamus pushes his own trousers and boxers down to mid-thigh. He’s about to ask Malfoy how he wants to do this when Malfoy turns around, shuffling on his knees and looking nervously back over his shoulder. He kneels on the edge of his discarded robes, swallows visibly and then leans down, hands on the floor in front of him.

Seamus’s head is spinning. He reaches out and traces a hand down the side of Malfoy’s thigh before pushing his shirt up his back, almost to his shoulder blades. The sight is devastating; all that pale skin on show, just waiting for Seamus. He can’t help but stare at Malfoy’s arse, in awe at how fucking pale it is. He wants it so badly he’s trembling with excitement and anticipation.

Grabbing his wand, Seamus kneels behind Malfoy, for now sitting back on his heels. He runs his fingers down the back of Malfoy’s thigh and Malfoy shudders.

“Just get on with it,” he says, sounding strangled. He dips his head, breathing heavily in and out through his mouth.

Seamus obliges, silently conjuring a palm-full of lube with that charm Ron had taught them all in fourth year, courtesy of a plethora of knowledge from older brothers. It’s cool on his skin and Seamus doesn’t waste any time, lathering the crease between Malfoy’s arse-cheeks with copious amounts of the viscous gel. Malfoy gasps loudly and the sound echoes off the tiles. Neither speak; the only sound aside from the dripping tap is Malfoy’s gasps and two sets of laboured breathing.

When Seamus slides his first finger into Malfoy’s hole, Malfoy’s whole body jerks and Seamus bites his lip. It slides smoothly in and out, deeper and deeper. Probably far too soon, he adds another and Malfoy makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, half cry and half whine.

Seamus keeps at it, letting Malfoy get used to the intrusion, his hole pulsing and fluttering around Seamus’s slick fingers, his body naturally resisting the intrusion even as he tries to relax.

“Have you done this before?” Seamus asks, carefully angling his fingers before trying to slip in a third. He can’t quite manage it. “Shite, will you relax?”

“I’m not in the mood for your fucking small talk,” Malfoy bites out, and then gasps as Seamus applies slightly more pressure than he’d originally planned, pushing the third finger in. “Fuck.”

“That was the idea,” Seamus says breathlessly, mesmerised by the sight of Malfoy’s hole stretching to accommodate his fingers, the rim a deep, angry shade of pink that he’s never seen on Malfoy’s skin before.

“Just shut up,” Malfoy manages. “Just fucking shut up.”

Seamus does; not because Malfoy said to but because he wants to concentrate. He grabs his wand with his free hand and casts another charm directly onto his prick, lubricant slipping down the length and dripping to the floor. He blindly tosses his wand aside and takes himself in hand, running his fist along the length of his dick, smearing lubricant everywhere.

He rises up on his knees, not caring about anything but this, right here and now. Malfoy’s body tenses as he feels Seamus rise up behind him. Seamus takes a deep breath and pulls his fingers free from Malfoy’s body, taking his hip in hand instead. Malfoy’s spine arches and flexes as Seamus grasps his prick and slowly, agonisingly slowly, pushes into Malfoy’s arse.

Malfoy’s cry is muffled as if he’s biting down hard on something – must be his lip because there aren’t any pillows or bedding. Seamus doesn’t stop. He just pushes his hips forwards as steadily as he can, mouthing ‘fuck’ repeatedly and only stopping when he’s fully inside, his thighs pressed against the back of Malfoy’s.

He pulls back and pushes in again and Malfoy swears violently, his voice breaking on the sound. His fingers curl in the fabric of his robes, clenching so hard his knuckles go white. Seamus wishes he could see the look on his face. He rocks back and forth, fighting the urge just to thrust as fast and hard as he can.

He curls his hands around the sharp ridges of Malfoy’s hipbones, his panting so loud in the otherwise silence of the room. He moves one hand further, around Malfoy’s hip, across his abdomen. His trousers slip further down his legs but he ignores them, fumbling for Malfoy’s crotch.

He’s gone soft, and Seamus slows his pace as he turns his attention to taking Malfoy’s mind off the discomfort. An odd thrill runs through him as he fondles Malfoy’s flaccid cock and he swallows, wishing that Malfoy would hurry the fuck up and get hard again because it feels strange to be touching someone when they’re not.

Thankfully, Malfoy’s body responds. Seamus can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth as his erection returns, thickening in Seamus’s hand. Seamus moves his hand to tease the head of Malfoy’s prick between his fingers and Malfoy’s body jolts beneath his, just before Malfoy takes a deep breath and pushes back onto Seamus’s dick.

They moan in tandem and suddenly Malfoy has got the hang of it, pushing his hips back and forth, fucking himself back onto Seamus’s prick as Seamus pulls at his. “Yes,” Seamus chokes out, knowing he can’t take much more. “Oh god, fuck, yes.”

Malfoy pushes back harder, and Seamus has never been more thankful for the bastard’s natural grace and sense of movement. Even on his hands and knees Malfoy moves in a way like no other. He spreads his knees marginally and cries out loudly as Seamus pushes into him, one of his hands moving to join Seamus’s fingers on his prick.

“Go harder,” he gasps desperately, fingers clutching at Seamus’s. “I need - I feel like I need more-”

Seamus obliges, snapping his hips forwards with enough force to knock Malfoy off balance. He slips forwards, his weight now resting on his forearm, his face hidden in the back of his wrist and muffling his cries.

“Can you come?” Seamus gasps out, letting go of Malfoy’s dick to place both hands on his arsecheeks, pushing them together as best he can. He watches his prick slide in and out of Malfoy’s body and feels a thrill run down his spine.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy chokes. “I don’t know-”

Seamus decides to hedge his bets and go for it. “Keep wanking yourself,” he pants, picking up his pace again and making Malfoy keen. “Come on, Malfoy, keep going. Think about me fucking your arse, come on, push back-”

He slams in and out as hard as he dares, their skin slapping together each time he thrusts forwards. Malfoy is crying out continually underneath him and Seamus watches his elbow move as he furiously tosses himself off.

“Come on,” Malfoy chokes and slides his knees apart even further. “Fuck my arse, come on, harder-”

The words are barely out of his mouth before his whole body jerks and tenses. His hole clenches and pulses around Seamus’s dick and Seamus cries out, reaching for Malfoy’s prick and feeling wet warmth all over Malfoy’s still slowly moving hand.

It’s enough to push him over the edge; thinking about Malfoy begging for it and coming from being taken hard and fast up the arse sets off a spark in Seamus’s gut. He can’t do anything but cry out in warning and then he’s coming harder than he can remember ever doing before, pushing as deep as he can into Malfoy’s body, grinding his hips in a small circle as he rides out the last of his climax.

And then it’s suddenly all over, and the room is once again silent save for the dripping tap. Malfoy is shivering under him, face hidden from Seamus’s view. Seamus’s knees are aching something fierce and he winces as he shuffles back, his prick sliding free from Malfoy’s body.

Malfoy moves immediately, turning to grab his underwear and his wand. His cheeks are flaming red and he doesn’t meet Seamus’s eyes as he pulls his pants back on, flinching as he does. The silence stretches out as he picks up his wand, muttering a hasty cleaning charm before putting his trousers back on, his movements now awkward as he pulls them up.

Seamus belatedly looks down and realises he’s still half naked. He quickly pulls his trousers up, buckling his belt. His thighs feel tacky with sweat and lube, and his hand is sticky with drying come.

Malfoy tucks in his shirt and grabs his robes, bundling them into a ball before standing up. Seamus stands up too, not saying anything. The look on Malfoy’s face tells him that this is not the time for any banter.

“You okay?” he opts for asking. Malfoy looks up at him, expression strangely guarded, and then nods.

“Are you?”

Seamus sends him a blank look. “Of course I am. After that I’m more than okay.”

Malfoy blinks at the admission, and the ghost of a weak smile hitches the corner of his mouth, before it fades as if it were never there. He looks at Seamus uncertainly, and then quickly steps forwards and kisses his cheek. He mumbles something that could have been ‘thank you’ and then leaves without looking back.

The next day, when Seamus finds out that Malfoy had gone home for the Easter holidays, he understands and wants to kick himself. A heavy, desolate part of him wonders if Malfoy will even come back, and he regrets that the last memory he has of him is nothing more than a ten-minute shag in a filthy, abandoned bathroom.

Part Four