Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only. I am
making no money from this.
Notes: Draco goes down to breakfast and has to deal with his overactive hormones once again.
Draco stretched and yawned as he entered the Great Hall. He was tired and achy. Waking every half hour hadn’t helped him
any. It also wasn’t helping that every male student in the hall seemed to turn to him as he walked over to his seat. He gulped,
keeping his head lowered, forcing himself not to look at anyone. He didn’t want to lose control. Already, he could feel the
familiar tingling in his body, the urges that told him to go to the first young man he saw and just take a seat on his lap and allow
himself to be ravished right here and now, or to do the ravishing himself. It mattered little that the hall was full of prying eyes .
. . Draco didn’t know how long he would be able to ignore these desires.
Finally, he slid into his usual seat, clenching his hands to try and stop them from shaking so much. It was then that he allowed
himself to look up. He nearly gasped as he surveyed the number of hungry stares that he was getting. His heart throbbed in
his chest, yet he was somehow able to manage keeping a smug smirk on his face, keeping up the tentative appearance that
there was nothing wrong with him.
Breakfast went dreadfully slowly. He picked at his food, trying to keep from getting aroused as he sat there amongst his fellow
students. It would most definitely be horrible if a teacher discovered he was getting turned on with just sitting near . . . well,
He raised his gaze, taking a slow look around the room. Most everyone had gone back to eating their meals, but there were still
a random few that winked at him, or smiled, giving him sultry looks to which Draco nearly dropped his fork time and again.
He was sure that he was shaking again as he locked eyes with Harry Potter. Who knew that he had such perfect green eyes?
Draco’s thoughts trailed off from then, descending deep into lustful fantasies of seeing the young Gryffindor below him, his
sleek body bathed in a delectable sheen of sweat, crying out Draco’s name in ecstasy.
Draco shook his head, his vision shifting to Potter’s best friend, Ronald Weasley. He found himself idly wondering what that
flaming mop of hair felt like. Was it rough, or perhaps as soft as silk? Would Draco enjoy running his fingers through it . . . to
touch it? Would Weasley want Draco, to have him between his legs, taking and giving whatever pleasure Draco desired to
share with him? Draco couldn’t answer these questions, but the very thought left his blood boiling, the feelings coursing
through his body making him want to run over and jump Weasley in the middle of the morning meal.
Draco slowly became aware of something touching his leg . . . no, both of his legs. Hands were touching him . . . warm,
strong hands, caressing and feeling his thighs. He looked to either side of himself, controlling his breathing, forcing himself to
take a bite of his food, despite the fact that he was having trouble getting his trembling hands to bring the fork to his mouth.
To his right sat Goyle, to his left was Crabbe. They weren’t looking at Draco, both of them still eating their food, but it was
most definitely their hands that were touching him in so pleasing a manner.
Draco dropped his fork, biting back a gasp as he reached over and picked up a glass. He kept his eyes lowered, not sure that
he could look up right now, and sipped at his pumpkin juice, trying to keep up some semblance of normalcy even as his body
threatened to send him into sensory overload. Crabbe and Goyle’s hands felt so wonderful . . . the way they touched, they
squeezed just right. Draco’s breath hitched in his throat, nearly causing him to choke on his juice as he allowed his legs to
move a bit farther apart, craving more.
He knew that there was a risk of getting caught . . . and yet he did not care one little bit. All he wanted was for those hands to
continue, to touch him more. A shiver ran along his spine as they did just that. Crabbe’s hand continued to toy with Draco’s
leg, dipping down to stroke his inner thigh, squeezing in a delightful manner. Goyle however, didn’t seem satisfied with just
that simple bit of contact.
Slowly, Goyle’s hand slid further up along the inside of Draco’s thigh. Then, as it reached his crotch, it left him. Draco was
fighting to control his breathing, feeling as sweat began to bead on his brow. How much longer could he continue to allow this
teasing without grabbing one or both of them and doing so much more? And then it happened, Goyle’s hand returned, pushing
aside Draco’s robes and lowering the zipper of Draco’s trousers.
Draco gasped then, his eyes widening. He got to his feet, stumbling back a moment before he quickly left the Great Hall,
forcing himself not to run. He couldn’t allow himself to run, that would make him seem afraid, or even worse that there was
something wrong with him. He couldn’t have that. He had to appear perfectly normal, just as always. He thanked Merlin that
school robes were made loose, or else he might have some explaining to do as well as be dreadfully embarrassed.
He wasn’t watching where he was going, more focused on just getting away. So it was inevitable that he run into someone.
The both of them fell to the floor and Draco grumbled, pushing himself up, angry that someone had dared to knock him down,
even if it had been his own fault. However, just as he raised his gaze and saw who it was, his mouth went dry, his words
dying on his lips as he stumbled backward.
Damn, Neville Longbottom was a good looking young man, Draco thought, eyeing the youth before him. Neville looked up, a
sheepish grin present on his face for a brief moment, only to be replaced by something darker, a more predatory gleam in his
eyes. He rushed forward, grabbing Draco around the waist and pulling him close, crushing their lips together without even a
moment of warning.
This was wrong . . . this was very wrong. Not only was he kissing Neville Longbottom of all people, but he was doing it in
the middle of a corridor, right outside the Great Hall. Anyone could walk out and see them like this, locked in a deep kiss. Yet,
Draco didn’t care. He leaned into the kiss, throwing his arms around Neville and trying to get him closer, opening his mouth to
the tongue tasting his lips.
Yes, he wanted this, he thought as they staggered back, Draco’s legs coming up around Neville’s waist as his back finally
collided with a wall. He sucked fervently against the invading tongue, exploring the recesses of the other youth’s mouth as
deeply as he could, wanting more, desperate for everything.
One of Neville’s arms was under his ass, holding his weight up. The other, was sliding along Draco’s thigh, easily slipping
past Draco’s robes to the front of his trousers. When Neville found that Draco’s zipper had already been lowered . . . Draco
hadn’t gotten a chance to fix it after Goyle’s teasing had undone it . . . he took his mouth from Draco's. “All ready for me, I
see.” He smirked, licking his lips.
Draco frowned, not enjoying the lack of contact. “No talking.” He breathed, kissing Neville again.
Draco’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he felt the first touch of Neville’s hand on his crotch. He was a mass of
desperate need already . . . this faint touch to his clothed body just set his veins ablaze, as if liquid fire was pumping through
his bloodstream. Neville’s wonderful hand delved into Draco’s trousers, drifting down underneath the waistband of his silk
boxers, firmly wrapping around his aching cock.
The pleasureful moment was abruptly shattered however, with the loud clearing of someone’s throat. Draco pushed Neville
away from himself, his body shivering as he fumbled with covering himself again. He looked up, eyes widening as he saw
Professor Snape standing before them.
“If you two are finished . . . I suggest you get to wherever you are supposed to be.” Snape said, his arms crossed over his
chest as he glared at the two of them.
“Yes, Professor Snape.” Draco mumbled, barely noticing as Neville scurried away into the Great Hall.
Draco turned, heading quickly to the Slytherin Dorm. He needed time to calm himself before class. It was bad enough that
today he had Double Potions with the Gryffindors. Not only would Professor Snape be there, but Neville would be there as
well. Neville . . . he couldn’t believe that he had done that. What the hell had he been thinking? Longbottom? Was he
completely deranged? Had he lost his mind? What had possessed him to allow Longbottom to touch him like that, to kiss
him? The memory of the feel of Neville’s hands still caused Draco to shiver, the other youth’s taste still tingling on his tongue,
his scent lingering on Draco’s robes.
Draco frowned, deeply concerned over his state of mind. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this. What would
happen to him the next time . . . Snape couldn’t always be there to halt his raging hormones. There would come a time when
Draco was alone with one or more of the men he . . . desired. What would happen then? Would he really fuck someone . . .
to give himself so easily over to his insatiable desires?
Draco didn’t need to think about the answers to those questions. He already knew what it was, knew that yes, he would give
himself over to his emotions, to the passion still coiling in his body. He just had no control over himself. That invigorated
Draco . . . scaring the hell out of him as well.
To Be Continued . . .