Draco has a tongue ring and Harry is losing his mind always looking at it and trying to find a way to have a taste.
Harry was fucked. He knew it. His friends knew it. Anyone and everyone in his close circle knew it. And it wasn't that he didn't mind them knowing it, it was the fact that he knew he could do nothing to rectify it. I mean, let's be honest here. In a world where Gryffindors and Slytherins, 'heroes and villains' are supposed to hate each other, he was pathetically and hopelessly enamored with the fact that Draco Malfoy had a tongue ring. And he couldn't stop looking.
And it wasn't just any ring, you ignorant peasants! It was sterling silver, a solid bar with a snake in a curved S shape, at the bottom of the bar. (The part that was under his tongue), while the top part was a beautiful bright green emerald in the shape of, you guessed it, a lightning bolt.
Every time that Harry found himself entranced with it, Malfoy would play with it, using his tongue, and the golden boy was fascinated. How he would stick his tongue out, and jut the bar between his teeth, and lick his lips at the saliva that had gathered from the motion. He wanted nothing more than to look down Malfoy's throat and see it first hand.
He wanted to ask him if it had hurt having it done, and why the fuck would you let anyone pierce you there? He wanted to know what it felt like to kiss with one, and have you ever kissed someone with it in Malfoy?
He wanted answers to all his questions, but he would rather suffer in silence than ask him, because a) Harry was oblivious and b) Harry was extremely shy. Let's also not forget c) that Harry was scared that Draco would hex him. Or d) all of the above. Yes, let's go with d, that seems reasonable enough.
Nothing in this world had prepared him for absolute hold that Malfoy's tongue ring seemed to have on him. And hello, why a lightning bolt?
He dropped his head onto the table, where they were sitting in the great hall, and groaned in desperation. How had his life come to this? He was the hero of the wizarding world for god's sake, he put asunder dark lords, and killed basilisks. He had emerged a winner from the most dangerous tournament ever, and - and he had survived Umbridge.
He had faced torture, and had broken into Gringotts for the love of fuck, yet he didn't know how to process what was in front of him. I mean come on, he had walked into a forest, ready to die for mankind.
Wait. He did die for mankind, so what was he so afraid of?
Hermoine who was ever so in tune with what Harry was going through, all the time, just rubbed his back with her hand and sighed. "Honestly Harry", she scolded him.
Ron sniggered from where he was sitting next to her, making Harry scowl at him.
He slowly raised his head and his eyes went straight - I shit you not - to the Slytherin table. To the blond. To that fucking tongue ring. To the thing, that made his mouth water and his cock hard. Jesus Christ, he was going to have to get a grip. Life just wasn't being fair.
"I fucking hate him", he croaked out with absolutely no malice or hate at all. His green eyes watching every move Malfoy made. The way his slim hands would hold his utensils, how his mouth would take tiny forkfuls of food. How he licked his lips after swallowing what was in his mouth, how he would smile when someone at the table spoke to him.
And boy, that made Harry groan even more. Not in the seven years that he had known the prat, had he ever seen him smile, and it was perhaps the single most gorgeous thing about him. But there was a problem.
Harry wanted to be the one who made him smile and laugh. Harry wanted to be the one close enough to him, to see that tongue ring in all it's glory. But Harry, it seemed, had become a coward. How in the world did he get so unlucky, to have this dumped in his lap in his last year, when all he had wanted was to come back to school, get his N.E.W.T.S, and disappear. Well okay, maybe not disappear, but well, oh fuck it. Now he had this amazing beauty that was so damn distracting, that he found on some days, it was hard to breathe.
