Chapter Text
As it happened, the best opportunity for subjecting Malfoy to the Daydream Potion was
once again Professor Binns’ History of Magic class. It was the only class during which it
was highly unlikely the daydream would be interrupted. Harry was torn between either
watching from the classroom, or viewing the fantasy from a safe distance. Weighing up
the advice from Fred and George, he decided to stay in his dorm, as he figured that using
the Daydream Master potion would mean he would be participating in the fantasy
somehow, and therefore too busy to be watching the real Malfoy.
Of the possible options Fred and George had listed for the daydream, Harry had decided
to use the potion to call up one of Draco’s own fantasies rather than create an artificial
one. He wanted the opportunity to see for himself exactly what really did it for the
Slytherin, thinking there might be some future advantage in it for him. All Harry planned
to control was the masking of his own identity.
It hadn’t been hard to get Dobby to pour some of the Daydream potion into Malfoy’s
lunchtime juice, so with that accomplished, Harry retired to his bed, shut the drapes and
waited nervously for some sign that the daydream was starting.
Fred and George had neglected to mention how it all worked…
Wondering if he needed to be thinking about his prey, Harry called up a picture of Malfoy
in his mind, (not hard to do that lately) and replayed some of their recent encounters, to
get himself in the mood, as it were.
Maybe ten minutes later, Harry inexplicably pictured the Quidditch changing room
showers in frightening clarity. The shower stalls were empty and quiet, except for the
pounding of one of the large showerheads as it pelted jets of steamy water onto the tile
floor. The room was hot and clammy, and Harry noted with amusement that he was
naked and concealed behind some sort of shower curtain. Certainly, there weren’t
usually any shower curtains in front of the stalls.
With baited breath, he watched Malfoy walk into the shower room, still clad in his
Quidditch kit, his arms loaded with fluffy towels and toiletry bottles. He never glanced in
Harry’s direction, but laid his materials out and began to strip off. Stepping into the
steaming shower, Malfoy sighed out loud and let the water pound onto his head,
stretching his shoulders, neck, and finally his arms, reaching up high to grasp the metal
showerhead, hanging on it for a second, then slowly letting go.
Starting with his hair, Malfoy washed himself thoroughly, rubbing sandalwood fragranced bubbles over and into his skin until he had completed his whole body. Harry
watched as the Slytherin leaned into the wall, hands at chest height for balance, and let
the powerful jet of water hit his back between the shoulder blades, raising a pink tinge to
his pale skin.
Without warning, Harry’s body began to move out from behind his curtain and across the
room towards the occupied cubicle. His heart was pounding, overflowing with anxiety
that Malfoy would turn and see him. At the threshold of the cubicle, Harry stood still
momentarily and drank in the sight of the slim, toned body before him. God, Malfoy had
a great arse. His buttocks were high but gently rounded; touchable and enticing. The dip
in the small of his back was made more pronounced by the swelling of his delicious rump.
Harry could make out tiny, fine white gold hairs glinting in that dip. He wanted so much
to touch them.
Before he could move, he heard himself murmur a charm he didn’t know. Malfoy gasped
aloud and Harry looked up to see Malfoy’s head had been bound round with a wide black
ribbon. It was clear that his eyes were covered. The flow of water ceased suddenly.
Harry had a moment to register his own sudden relaxation before he heard himself
whisper, as if scripted, “Do not turn around. And keep your hands exactly where they
are. I will leave if you disobey. Nod once if you understand.”
Malfoy bobbed his head once, remaining still. Looking back down at that magnificent
backside, Harry smiled to himself as he watched it tense and relax, tense and relax, over
and over, as he stood, listening to the harsh rasp that was Malfoy’s breathing. Harry
found himself stepping forward, the tip of his erection pressing lightly into Malfoy’s back,
the first moment of contact, before the rest of his front met Malfoy’s body. The Slytherin
could not contain his shudder, or the heated whimper that escaped his lips. Harry moved
his hips side to side gently, rubbing his leaking head into that pale back, and dipping into
that inviting crease. His own breathing felt ragged in his throat, forced and painful.
Harry registered one of his hands moving upwards until it found the wet, heavy ends of
Malfoy’s platinum hair. He grasped the hair roughly and twisted it upwards, exposing the
back of his elegantly shaped neck. Leaning his head in, Harry sank his teeth slowly into
the skin, surrounding the knobbly bone and sucked at it greedily, pulling away eventually
when Malfoy thrust himself back onto Harry’s groin firmly, panting loudly and
whispering, “Please…”. A dark red patch, mouth-shaped and with purple teeth marks
circling it was clearly visible against the pink skin and Harry could not help leaning in
again and licking it quickly with the flat of his tongue. Malfoy tipped his head forward
until his forehead rested against the tile wall and groaned aloud. That one sound tore
into Harry’s self-restraint and he felt his body demand an end to its torture of denial.
Harry found that he had begun to thrust his hips into Malfoy’s back. His hard length had
found a home, riding the channel of Malfoy’s pert bottom. The dampness of their skins
and the leaking lubricant from Harry’s erection lubricated its path, and Malfoy began to
return the thrusts in earnest. Looking down, Harry could see his foreskin roll back at the
peak of each thrust, gripped by the tightness of the tautly fleshy cheeks. Harry placed his
hands over Malfoy’s on the wall, and their fingers intertwining automatically, gripping at
each other painfully in their growing need. He bit down sharply on a shoulder blade and
gave himself over to humping Malfoy’s crack.
Harry’s body felt on fire, electrified. The sensations were so unbelievably real; he could
easily fool himself that it was actually happening, instead of a mere fantasy. He also
couldn’t imagine that actual, penetrative sex could possibly feel any better than this.
Their bodies and reactions were perfectly in tune, and there was no fumbling and no
uncertainty from either side.
Harry was drawn back from his inner thoughts when he felt Malfoy drag one of his hands
from underneath his own. Malfoy’s breathing hitched loudly as he took his own cock in
hand and wanked himself forcefully in time with Harry’s thrusts. Just sensing the
movement of Malfoy’s arm was nearly enough to make Harry empty himself over his
back.
Finally making a decision for himself, Harry dropped his own hand and placed it over
Malfoy’s, squeezing and working the fat, hard length underneath. Malfoy’s head tipped
back onto Harry’s shoulder and the flatteringly loud sound of his imminent orgasm was
unmistakeable. Through gritted teeth, Harry ploughed relentlessly through Malfoy’s
sticky furrow, shouting aloud as the first spurt of come left his body to decorate
Malfoy’s. Almost instantly, Malfoy’s shout echoed Harry’s and he found his own release,
the creamy semen hitting the tile wall in great gouts. Leaning into one another for
support, they both shook with exertion and laughed quietly in shared understanding,
perhaps almost sympathy.
Some moments later, Malfoy broke the silence. “This is no good. I have to know who you
are. You haunt my days and my nights.”
When Harry made no reply, he continued, “I want you. I don’t care. I just want you.”
“No,” Harry whispered, breathing almost normal now.
“How can I make you come to me for real?”
“Beg,” Harry laughed, his voice muffled in Malfoy’s shoulder.
“I don’t beg. Not for anyone,” was the amused response.
“Oh, but you will before I’m done with you.” Harry trailed the words across Malfoy’s neck
and shoulders, in between light kisses, before stepping back and out of the cubicle. He
watched Malfoy bring his head up straight, then tilt it to one side, before rapidly turning
towards Harry and reaching to snatch the blindfold away. Harry panicked. He stumbled.
And fell.
Then he was lying on his back, panting, looking up at the fabric tented ceiling of his bed,
fully in his own body again. That had been close. Too close. He laughed nervously to
himself as he reached down to undo his trousers and conclude the fantasy in reality. He
swallowed an exasperated moan as he felt a cooling dampness in the region of his
crotch, and withdrew his hand. Placing an arm over his eyes, he laughed to himself for
some minutes, before seeing to a change of clothes.
*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*
When Malfoy arrived some ten minutes late for the Potions lesson following History of
Magic, it was all Harry could do to keep his smug grin to himself. He had to bite the back
of his hand to contain his laugh as he heard Malfoy telling Snape he had spilt something
down himself and had to return to his room to change…
*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*
It took Harry over a week to recover from Malfoy’s fantasy, or rather, the close shave
with discovery. Mulling it over from time to time between homework and researching
some of the charms and potions in Sirius’ book, Harry felt that his game plan might be in
danger of veering off course. He kept having to remind himself that he was supposed to
be needling the Slytherin, not seducing him with the tall, dark stranger routine.
Admittedly, he did like holding the power – he had always felt lesser to Malfoy, for a lot
of reasons. The thought of Malfoy begging him for anything brought a smile to his face,
and the surfacing of that smile usually led, rather inevitably, to yet another Malfoyinduced erection.
Continuing his distant scrutiny, Harry picked over his sightings of Malfoy, looking for
clues to suggest he was not himself. Although he could be imagining it, Harry thought
that Malfoy allowed much less bodily contact with other people these days. Over the last
three years, he had almost constantly had one student or another on his arm, whether it
was a pretty girl fluttering her eyelashes, or a male friend attempting to win his haughty
attention. Lately, his only companions were Crabbe and Goyle, and occasionally Blaise,
although Harry thought he had noted a distinct cooling towards the dark-skinned
Slytherin.
But, if he was honest with himself, Harry really thought that Malfoy had lost interest in
everyone but his phantom stranger. In one recent Potions lesson, Snape had berated his
star pupil for wool-gathering and ruining the potion he was mixing. This was unheard of,
and received no small amount of attention from the other pupils.
Ron and Hermione continued to think that Zabini was the centre of Harry’s attentions. He
got away with this as the two Slytherins were often together at the dining table, or
walking to lessons. He had no intention of enlightening them any time soon, either. Harry
had long ago overcome his fear of their thoughts on his sexuality, but the fact that he
had become so fascinated with the one student in the whole school who represented
everything they despised, mixed with the fact that they would undoubtedly feel that
Harry’s behaviour was reprehensible, meant that he wanted to keep quiet. Truthfully, he
also liked having it just for himself.
*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*
With only a fortnight to go until the Christmas break, Harry found himself considering
buying Malfoy a present – something wicked that would continue to tease him during
their separation – but he couldn’t think what. Harry sighed and mused to himself that he
needed far more practice at scheming.
The solution presented itself quite by chance, one freezing night in the Gryffindor boys’
dorm.
Sirius’ charm book had become the talk of the Gryffindor tower, with quite a few of the
older male students approaching Harry to borrow it, usually accompanied by furtive
glances and warm blushes. If only Ron would have spoken more quietly occasionally,
Harry wouldn’t have had to deal with refusing the requests. The upshot of the refusals
was that often, after turning in, Neville, Dean, and Seamus would badger Harry for tips
from the book. The five of them had begun to sit up into the early hours, poring over the
scribbles, covertly springing the charms on each other, usually causing raucous laughter
and the acute embarrassment of at least one of them. Harry was able to add quite a few
of his own notes to those already made, especially about the more risqué charms.
On the night in question, the five of them sat on the floor around the fireplace, soaking
up the heat, with Ron turning the pages in the hope of finding something to try on
Hermione. His loud “Oh, yes!” caught the attention of the gathered group.
“Listen to this! Sirius made a three dimensional copy of his most favourite body part, in
full glory, and sent it, wrapped in pink tissue paper, to Snape on Valentine’s Day!”
The five of them were hysterical with laughter, even as Ron continued to speak, tears
running down his red cheeks.
“No, wait – that’s not the best bit!” he gasped. “The Magic Dildo – yeah, really! – that’s
what it says! – was enchanted, so if it was, uh, used, Sirius would know! The notebook
says he would be able to “feel a certain tightness in the trouser department” if it was
being used! And guess what? SNAPE USED IT!”
The laughter from the group was surely loud enough to wake not just the entire
Gryffindor tower, but half of the rest of the school as well. It was at least five minutes
before the laughter stopped enough for anyone to sit up, or take a proper breath.
Harry said, “Merlin! If Snape found out it was from Sirius, then no wonder he hated him!
Especially since I doubt very much that Sirius could keep his gob shut about it for long!”
After much jeering and mirth-making, (all at Snape’s expense,) Seamus eventually asked,
“Does Sirius give us the instructions as to how we make this Magic Dildo, then? I bet
Hermione would appreciate her very own Magic Ron to keep her warm over the
Christmas holiday!”
There was more general laughter until Ron eventually calmed them down and
humorously berated them all for their disrespect of his beloved. He looked down the list
of ingredients listed and verified them all as easily obtainable from the kitchens and the
herb garden, before extracting an agreement from the gathering that they would make
one the following night.
So, the five of them met in their dorm the next night, having put some Locking and
Silencing charms on the door, (Just in case). Each using their own cauldron, they mixed
and cooked the ingredients until they formed a pure and transparent jelly, and then
selected decorative ingredients (an optional extra, according to Sirius, or ‘The
Godfather’, as they had begun to think of him), for that personal touch.
Ron threw a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans into his, with the reasoning that
he had heard that a knobbly texture might prove a bit more fun. Seamus added a fourleafed clover into his cauldron; Dean, rather disturbingly, they all thought, put a
miniature West Ham scarf into his cauldron. (“Wow mate, they must be a really good
team,” were Ron’s words), and Neville had plucked some delicate Mimbulus Mimbletona
flowers to add to his, leaving everyone to wonder about Harry’s choice.
Having given it an awful lot of thought, Harry had transfigured a handful of paperclips
into a silvery snake, which writhed in constant motion, and as an afterthought, placed a
sprinkling of emerald green glitter into the cauldron, just as the clear mixture was
setting. Of course, this choice of decoration caused something of a stir in the room.
There were more than a couple of raised eyebrows, and Harry eventually had to admit
that he was sending his to someone secretly, and that he wanted to hide his identity. This
seemed to satisfy Dean, Neville, and Seamus. Of course, Ron still thought Harry was
sending it to Zabini, so his accepting look was for an entirely different reason. In fact it
was rather more like a smug, knowing leer.
For the next part of the spell, the formation of the dildo into a shape identical to its
maker, they all went to their beds and drew the drapes shut. Sirius had been clear that it
was a Transfiguring technique that was required to perform the moulding. They each
needed to masturbate until fully aroused, and then basically map every contour of their
erections, willing the contents of the cauldron to take the same shape. They had all
agreed this part was best done in privacy. Thankfully. ‘Soggy biscuit’ was not a game
played in their dorm.
It wasn’t hard for Harry to become turned on, even in the slightly odd circumstances,
knowing all his friends were tossing off around him. The Transfiguring itself was a piece
of cake and in less than ten minutes, Harry was holding his hard cock in one hand, and
the transparent, sparkly imitation in the other. He marvelled that every ripple was
identical, even down to the raised, firm sac sitting beneath the broad, heavy shaft. The
dildo itself felt warm and pliable, not unlike the texture of the real thing, Harry was
pleased to note. And the snake twisting inside the core of the dildo was perfect. Harry
thought Malfoy would appreciate it.
He seriously considered finishing himself off while he waited for his friends to finish up,
but was then disturbed by Dean’s whoop of laughter and call to the others, and decided
against it.
Once they had all collected again in front of the fire, the five friends fidgeted nervously,
unsure of quite how to show what amounted to their most personal asset to the whole
group. In the end, they all agreed to put them on the floor in front of them on a count of
three.
The completion of this part produced gales of laughter and lots of blushes. No one
actually touched anyone else’s though, Harry noted. They all “Oooh’d” and “Aahh’d”
over the five dildoes, but it was impossible not to be drawn to Neville’s. Frankly, it was
huge. There were many jokes about Neville being in the wrong house, as it looked
suspiciously like a snake had “slithered into” his trousers and attached itself between his
legs. Neville flushed with embarrassment, but also glowed quietly, in the limelight for
once. It was, of course, completely impossible not to mentally compare their own to
everyone else’s. Harry was pleased to note his was the broadest, and the second longest,
after Neville’s. I reckon that should do for Malfoy. It’s bigger than Snape’s, anyway, he
thought, with a smug grin.
Eventually, the five decided to turn in. They were all exhausted from the laughing, and
well pleased with their efforts. Harry took his dildo to bed with him, using the light from
his wand to watch the glitter sparkle and admire his handiwork undisturbed. Away from
prying eyes now, he touched the tip of his wand to the surface of the shaft and
Transfigured the snake into a tiny but perfectly formed dragon. There was no way he
wanted any of his friends to see that. It would be far too much of a giveaway.
It occurred to Harry to have a go with it, but he concluded that tonight might be a bit
obvious for that kind of activity. Also, he had so far only experimented with one finger
inside himself, and thought he might need a bit more preparation before attempting
anything larger. He also wasn’t quite sure about the thought of putting what amounted
to his own cock up his arse. Wasn’t that a bit pervy? Hell, he didn’t know! After placing it
reverently under his pillow, Harry settled down to sleep, deciding to make up his mind
the next day.
*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*
Allowing himself some time to consider his options through the day, Harry decided he
definitely wanted to try Malfoy’s gift out on himself before wrapping it up. If nothing
else, he was a more than a bit turned on by the thought of putting something inside
himself that was hopefully going to go inside Malfoy. In fact, it was a very arousing
thought.
So, having ensconced himself in his bed that night, curtains drawn, Silencing charm in
place, Harry laid out the dildo, some massage oil, (borrowed from Hermione) and a small
towel. Being inexperienced at this kind of thing, Harry wasn’t sure of the potential for
‘accidents’ with his bodily secretions, hence the towel.
His initial attempt was a total disaster, treating it as more of a medical experiment than a
sexual experience. Harry found it impossible to relax.
After several minutes of deep breathing and taking another approach, he thought back
to Malfoy’s performance in the prefect’s bathroom. Pouring some oil into his palms, he
lay back naked on his coverlet and replayed in his mind what he had seen there. He could
feel the blood start to collect in his groin, and stroked his hard-on lightly, until it was
completely, deliciously engorged. Continuing to touch himself gently, Harry let one hand
fall between his legs, to cup his testicles, and wander to the softer skin behind them. He
had raised his knees when he started to touch himself, but as his caresses became more
relaxed, so did his legs. They parted into a widely spread position, heels together, knees
apart.
Harry found the sensations on his skin almost hypnotic. His whole awareness narrowed
down to the exposed skin under gentle assault. When he reached back and slipped the
first finger into his anus, there was no resistance at all. There was just intense heat and
an amazing constriction around the finger. The newness and intensity of the sensation
was such that when he finally thought about it, Harry realised he had forgotten about his
penis altogether for long moments.
He lay there for quite a while, testing the effects of moving his finger in certain ways, and
memorising the unique texture of his passage. It was an almost subconscious decision to
add a second finger. That took a little work, and Harry could definitely feel his body
stretching reluctantly to accommodate the invasion. The was no pain, rather a very
intense and localised heat emanating outwards; he thought it wouldn’t be difficult to find
the pleasure in someone else doing this to him. Once his fingers were moving together,
gently in and out, a tiny sucking sound audible at each extraction, he tried flexing the
fingers and bending them slightly in an effort to stretch himself even wider.
Momentarily, he experienced a sharp sensation. Sharp enough to snap his eyes open and
lift his bottom off the bed. Wow! What was that? Was it good? I’m not sure I want to try
that again just yet.
It took Harry a few seconds to calm down and continue his exploration. He noted with
amusement however, that his cock seemed to have enjoyed the stab of sensation – there
was a rope of clear fluid joining the head of his penis to his stomach.
Once he was accustomed to the invasion of two fingers, Harry attempted a third. The tip
of the finger entered easily, gliding in the channel between his other two, but moving the
three fingers together seemed to require a level of dexterity he hadn’t developed. et. He
decided his body was ready for the Magic Dildo now – surely it would be easier to
manoeuvre!
Withdrawing his sticky fingers and coating the dildo in oil, Harry positioned its head at his
entrance and exhaled, fantasizing about breaching Malfoy’s body. His body quickly
accommodated the curving head of the dildo, up to the ridge of the retracted foreskin.
Listening to his inner self, Harry registered a new, insistent pulse in his sac, like a second
heartbeat. His cock continued to leak clear lubricating fluid, and he couldn’t help but take
himself with his free hand and work the moisture up and down his length. As his fingers
caught on the highly sensitive ridge, he felt the muscles in his passage relax, and he
pushed gently on the dildo, to slide more inside himself. His surprise, and his maddening
arousal at the thought that he had a cock in his arse, acted like a potent aphrodisiac on
Harry’s senses. As his body pulsed and relaxed around the dildo, he made a second
assault on himself. He gasped out loud as he felt the imitation balls slap gently against his
body. Merlin! It’s all the way in! I can’t believe it! He was panting his desire now, thankful
of the thoughtfully erected Silencing charm.
Holding it all the way in, right up against his flesh, Harry gripped his erection and gave it
some of the attention it desperately craved. As he wanked himself, he applied pressure
with his fingertips to the base of the dildo, rocking it gently inside his body. It didn’t take
him long to brush against that extra-sensitive spot again, although the sensation of
applying pressure rather than stroking it made the flash of pleasure less intense,
probably more bearable right at that moment.
Finally, the need to feel the dildo fuck him hard pushed Harry to concentrate on it alone.
With one hand stretched across his perineum until his fingers gently pulled his opening
wider, Harry gripped the sparkling testicles of the dildo and pulled it slowly out. Hot
waves of desire flooded through him until he could feel it even in his toes. He slid the
dildo gently back in all the way before building up to more aggressive strokes. Harry
found that if he withdrew the toy quite far, he caught his ‘hot spot’ with every return
thrust. Once used to the sensation and its intensity, he knew he had to have more of it.
He continued to work the length inside himself, twisting it slightly and experimenting
with the angle, all the while forcing him hole to accept the invasion and yearn for it.
Harry broke out into a sweat. He could feel the prickles of heat on his face and chest, and
registered vaguely that his breathing was labouring heavily. It was as much the thought
of what he was doing to himself as the actual pleasure that aroused Harry so much. He
knew he was on the edge of completion as he continued to stroke in and out of his tight
anus.
When the orgasm came, it was impossible to keep his hips on the bed. His body arched
up, buttocks clutching the sparkling length deep inside him as he pulsed hot semen on
thick stripes across his chest and stomach. Exhaustion was instantaneous. Harry flopped
back onto his bed, legs like jelly, shaking in the after-glow of the experience. He lay there
for some time, feeling the dildo sliding slowly out of him of its own accord. It was only
when he reached to withdraw it altogether that he registered the fact that he had come
without actually masturbating himself at all. He chuckled to himself, almost in disbelief at
what he had discovered about his body and its preferences.
Wiping himself off with the towel, and quickly “Scourgify”ing the dildo, he placed it back
under his pillow and basked in the aftermath as he drifted off to sleep, silly grin firmly in
place.
*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*{h}*{d}*
Harry paid a visit to Hagrid after classes the next day, to scrounge a suitable wooden box
in which to present his gift to Malfoy, from the pile of bric-a-brac in the hut. He found just
the thing. It had previously housed a tool of some description, and was a bit tatty, but
the dimensions were perfect. It was about a foot long, and just less than half that square,
with tiny brass hinges on one long edge, and a magnetic catch on the other. Harry knew
he could polish it up with a simple Reparo charm, and pad and line the box with the
Ornamentato charm. He had picked that one up from Ginny, who used it most effectively
to modify her dress robes with ribbons and velvet.
Later that evening, making sure the dorm was deserted, Harry placed his work of art
inside the newly renovated box. It sparkled and shone on its black velvet padding and the
languid movements of the silver dragon were picked out in stark contrast. Closing the
box, Harry smiled to himself and whispered a simple Locking charm against the hidden
magnetic clasp. Malfoy would only be able to open the box by speaking the correct
words.
And Harry had no intention of telling him what the words were.
Wrapping the box in silver paper, Harry sat to compose the note he would send with it.
After some thought, he wrote,
I enclose a gift made especially for you. I trust you will find much pleasure in its use. The
box will only open when you speak the correct three words. Our previous conversations
should give you a clue.
I wish you a Happy Christmas.
Hiding the letter and package in his trunk, Harry went to join his friends in the common
room.