[hp] moral support



"Harder, Harry!" Ron's gasps were urgent.

"Oh yeah, come on, that's so good--" Harry panted.

"Would you two fucking quit it?" Jack yelled. "Some of us just want to get clean, aye?"

Harry snickered, and Ron burst out laughing, burbling under the shower spray. They had their routine pretty much down, now, but the rest of the team didn't think it was hilarious anymore. They still did, though, and Harry frequently had hysterics moaning Ron's name while he was soaping between his toes and Ron's head was a frothy mass of bubbles.

"Ooooooh, baby," Ron whispered, mock-singing into the soap. Jack stalked by, pulling on his shirt and muttering.

"Oi, mate!" Harry called after him, "We won! Chin up, none of that--" but the fifth-year had already rounded the corner. "He's a bit of a prude, ain't he?"

Ron spat out the mouthful of water he was gargling. "Yup. Ginny reckon's he's a bit stuck-up, didn't really want to be in Gryffindor."

Snickers came from the showers on the other side of the room, and a few seconds later Crabbe sauntered by with a glare at Harry and Ron.

"Don't look too pleased, you great git," Ron snorted. "Three losses in a row, innit?"

Crabbe gave them both the finger and slammed the door.

Harry scrubbed at his hair, getting the dregs of shampoo out. He'd ended the match with his catch, but the team had played superbly and had been up by eighty points by then anyhow. And Malfoy's face--

He reached over and turned off Ron's shower, clapping his hand over Ron's mouth.

"Shh," he hissed. "Pretend you're going."

When Harry took his hand away, Ron gaped his goldfish face at him.

"Malfoy," Harry said, eyes wide. "By himself. Here." He jerked his head in the direction of the snickers.

Ron grinned, the shit-eating mischief grin that made Harry's belly warm, and patted Harry's cheek. "Brilliant," he mouthed.

Harry waited until Ron had shucked on his shirt and trousers before turning off the shower. "Alright then, Ron," he said. "Catch you back upstairs, yeah?"

Ron winked, opened the door and sat on the bench, his feet drawn up so they couldn't be seen across the floor. "Wotcha," he said, letting the door out of his grasp so it shut again, and chucking Harry his towel.

There didn't seem to be anyone else left in the showers. Harry gave his hair a rub, debated wrapping the towel around him, and swivelled his neck, cracking the vertebrae instead. Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise when Harry smirked at him, but the corner of his mouth turned up in complicit encouragement.

--

"Malfoy." Harry braced his hands above him on the curtain rail that no-one ever bothered with. "Alright there?"

Malfoy swivelled so fast he nearly lost his balance, and the soap he was holding slid out of his grip and bounced on the tiles.

"Fuck!" he snarled. "What--what the fuck do you want, Potter? Come to gloat?"

Harry felt quite satisfied at the way Malfoy obviously couldn't help dropping his eyes to take in Harry's body. Harry bit his bottom lip, deliberately gazing, starting at Malfoy's pink feet and working his way up. Absolutely a natural blond.

"Pretty much," Harry said. "Came to rub it in, really." He lifted his eyebrows at the incredulous expression Malfoy was sporting, and grinned.

Malfoy pursed his lips, and Harry decided his mouth was just a bit too pretty like that. For a second he thought of reverting to Plan B, but then Malfoy turned his back to him, and it was pretty obvious why.

"Piss off," Malfoy muttered, but the last syllable trailed off when Harry stepped up close behind him and closed his hands around Malfoy's thin wrists.

"Anywhere in particular you'd like me to rub it in," Harry said, tilting his head to avoid the shower stream, "or do I just start with the obvious?" He peered over Malfoy's shoulder. looked down, and Malfoy wasn't hard, but he wasn't not, either.

The capitulation was gratifying when Malfoy squirmed out of his grasp and slumped back against the wall under the shower, staring wild-eyed at Harry through the streaming water. "What's the fucking g-game, P-Potter?" he managed as Harry curled his hand around Malfoy's hip and dug his fingers in. Malfoy was not soft and girlish at all.

"Thought I might give you a chance to catch the snitch before me," Harry said, trying for nonchalant, but Malfoy really was appealing, half-squirming to get away, his dick obviously having other ideas.

Another stutter. "Y-you--" as Harry slid in closer, right under the water, and insinuated his fingers around Malfoy's cock. Not thick, but it was long, and when Harry pulled his hand along the length, he brushed the head up against his own dick, shifting his hips.

The way Malfoy's hand slithered out and wrapped around Harry's cock almost made Harry laugh, and he wondered if all Slytherins snuck up on each other like that. Malfoy's expression changed, too; maybe it was just that he had Harry by the short and curlies, but he looked imperiously smug, and Harry liked that, felt himself tighten all through his groin.

"You reckon you'll make me--" Malfoy sucked air inwards, his teeth showing, "--come first?" He was leaning back, his shoulders braced against the tiles, the only point of contact. It threw his ribs into relief, ridges under his skin, and Harry had a stupid urge to contort himself and swipe his tongue along one of the bones.

"That's the--" A breath, because Malfoy wasn't bad at all, and he twisted his hand just so, his soapy palm scraping up the underside of the head of Harry's cock, "--idea," and Harry fell forward a little, bracing his hand behind Malfoy on the tiles, the wall just as wet as Malfoy's hip had been but not arching up towards Harry with each stroke. Malfoy had his head turned, eyes closed, teeth imprinted on his bottom lip when his mouth wasn't open in a slight gasp. "Can't look at me, can you?"

Malfoy took his time turning his head and looking up under his wet lashes, feral, trapped, and Harry thought he would lose it for a second when Malfoy hissed at him, his brain almost parsing the sound as Parseltongue.

"See your bloody mug... every day," Malfoy panted out, and Harry felt the rushing panic, tightening in his balls as Malfoy's hand--hands, sodding hell--yanked almost savagely at Harry's dick.

Harry leaned down into Malfoy's face and grinned, squeezing hard around the base of Malfoy's cock for a long second, and pulled his hand tight and brutal along the length. "You love it," he murmured, and bit softly into Malfoy's shoulder, right on the two visible freckles.

The whine he got, vibration under his mouth, was intensely satisfying, and he almost expected the slick pulse of Malfoy's come to go with the uncontrolled jerk of Malfoy's hips. Bit surprising--

"Amazed you haven't shot your load, Malfoy," came Ron's warm voice, "thought you'd like it a bit rough," and Harry smiled into Malfoy's skin, tilting his head again and slipsliding his hand faster, trying to stop the rocking of his own hips into Malfoy's hands, and he bit again, hard this time, bit down into the tense, soapy-sour curve of Malfoy's neck.

Harry had time to lean back and watch the furious expression on Malfoy's face as he came, spitting swearwords and clenching his hands erratically on Harry's dick before slumping, barely supported against the wall, breathing hard. Harry was too close, and he pushed into Malfoy, grinding his hips hard, his cock getting the final bit of friction against Malfoy's skin, and when he came, it was satisfyingly all over Malfoy.

He stepped back, trying to smirk through his slowing heartbeat. "Look," Harry said, "you're all dirty again." He couldn't help it, and he turned to grin at Ron, who had snuck up to lounge against the benches, arms folded. "He lost again," Harry said conspiratorially to Ron. "Poor Dwaco."

Ron snickered. "Maybe you'd like another try--ooh." Harry hadn't seen it coming, but Malfoy's fist had a dead-on aim, and his head cracked back hard against the tiles, dazing him for a second, and then the pain in his cheek bloomed, the metal taste of blood and the disjointed feeling of broken skin. Harry tried to turn his head--ow--to focus on Malfoy, but Malfoy was advancing on Ron.

"Don't even fucking think about it, you fucking ginger pervert." Harry watched woozily as Ron--looming fairly effectively--regarded Malfoy with amusement.

Ron held his hands up, clearly seconds away from hilarity as Malfoy turned heel and stalked off. "Takes one to know one, mate."

Harry slid down the wall, wriggling his jaw and rubbing his head. "Oi, Ron," he said, holding up his hand, "moral support, eh?"

Ron, gazing after Malfoy, turned his head down to Harry and pulled him up. "Reckon you might've deserved that, mate." He snorted. "When you said 'have a go', I didn't think that was what you had in mind."

Harry winked.

Ron shook his head, chest concave with laughter. "Oi, Malfoy!" he called as the door was yanked violently open, "nice arse!"

The door slammed.