The Scent Of Malice | drarry

eighteen | worth it

The rumours were true. Malfoy was pretty good in bed, though perhaps 'against locker' would be a more accurate phrase. The boy certainly knew what he was doing either way.

Harry had been a little too stuck in his own head and focused on the pain of losing his virginity to enjoy the experience as much as he felt he otherwise could've done, but as first times went he assumed it was pretty good.

Not that Malfoy had said much on the subject, of course. Once he was finished he simply cleaned up, pulled his Quidditch kit back on and headed out of the door, saying he was going to sleep, and Harry didn't know why he was disappointed over this.

What did you expect, you utter wet wipe? he asked himself angrily. Thought he might walk you up to your bedroom and hold your hand? Maybe kiss you goodnight? Pathetic.

He wondered how long it would be before the memories of that evening stopped flashing through his mind like a constant show - how long, for example, before he forgot how it felt to have his bare chest pushed up against the cold changing room lockers as the boy he adored finished roughly inside him, gripping onto the locker above Harry's head for stability as he did so and emitting a groan Harry had previously only ever heard in his wildest fantasies-

"Oh, Harry, God!"

How long before he could stop experiencing these memories in constant high-definition throughout the entirety of Potions class, and finally be able to stand up to leave on time without pulling fistfuls of his robes round his front?

Just hypothetically, of course.

Harry had hoped things would change now they'd finally had sex, maybe even in a positive light, but he quickly realised that that was naïvety.

Malfoy was still Malfoy, and this wasn't exactly his first time, even if it was Harry's. It wouldn't hold the same sentimental value for him - Harry wondered if he was even on his mind more than once or twice a day, if at all. It was hard to pretend that nothing had happened though, and it hurt Harry's feelings more than usual to be tormented and bullied by the other boy.

With every insult the urge to expose their little secret grew stronger - "I made you weak, Malfoy," he imagined himself saying. "You think you're so invincible, but I've watched you orgasm over me and you didn't look so powerful then. Your cum face makes you look like you're crying."

Malfoy certainly didn't seem to think it changed anything, though, and Harry wondered what exactly was wrong with the other boy's mind - surely he couldn't possibly think it was totally normal to take your enemy's virginity, and not something to discuss?

Harry was brushed off rudely when he'd attempted to discuss it himself, of course. "Is this just what you do then?" he'd asked irately when he caught Malfoy one evening on his way to Hall. "Just hit and run?"

Malfoy had blinked back at him, bemused. "If you're talking about when I left you in the changing rooms the other evening, Potter, then I don't think you know what 'hit and run' means. But yeah, since you're asking, that is what I usually do."

"Is that seriously all I'm worth to you?" Harry demanded, more than a little hurt at the dismissal. "Did you at least scratch a little notch on your bedpost for me, along with all the others that you don't care about?"

"I actually notch my broom, if you must know," Draco smirked, and Harry wondered why this image made his stomach drop into his crotch.

"But I assume you wrote about it in your gay little diary or something," the blonde continued. He put on a mincing, sarcastic tone. "Dear Diary, Draco Malfoy made love to me last night with his megacock-"

"I don't even keep a diary!" Harry snapped hotly, but of course he was ignored.

"He's so sexy and talented and he's got the biggest dick in the world and I can't sit down this week-"

"Look, Malfoy, you might think this whole thing is terribly funny, but you should know I'm different to whoever else you've been with before, ok?" Harry interrupted Malfoy's laughter angrily. "So next time you do ... that... to me - if there is a next time - you'd better fucking mean it."

Malfoy's lip quirked up nastily and he looked Harry slowly up and down, letting the weight of his gaze drip over his enemy's body like hot paint.

"You're different, are you?" he asked, and Harry knew somehow that Malfoy was about to say something really hurtful.

"That's interesting. Because I've done that dozens of times, Potter, and you really weren't anything unusual. You want me to stay, if there's a next time? And you want me to mean it?"

He paused, and licked his lips.

"Better make it worth my while."

Those words stung Harry for a long time.

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a/n: thanks for reading again, sorry it's only short! please vote & comment if you enjoyed. 🤍🤍

hopefully this should take your mind off the apocalypse that is the american election right now, albeit for just a minute - stay safe everybody, whatever happens tonight!

~ paradisedraco