Title: What Lies Beneath
Disclaimer: All characters are the copyrighted works of J.K Rowling. No profit was made by the writing of this story, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author.
Warnings: PWP, OOC, general silliness
Summary: The final Horcrux is hidden in a very strange place indeed.
Word Count: ~ 1710.
Author Notes: Gift fic for aldebaran1977. The quote “It sounded medical and secret, but also important," is lifted from The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron (the kids' book made controversial by its casual use of the word scrotum). The title is stolen from a cheesy movie that I haven't seen.
"Any progress?" Hermione’s weary voice came through the closed door.
Harry sighed. “Can you just give me another minute?”
“We haven’t got very much time! The Death Eaters could storm the castle at any moment," she warned.
“This isn’t exactly a picnic for me, either,” Malfoy piped up. If the situation had been less urgent, Harry would have stifled a giggle at Malfoy’s undignified position. His onetime rival was bent over a desk, robes pulled up to his waist, trousers around his ankles, with Harry’s index finger sunk up to the knuckle inside his pale rump.
“Better than Azkaban, isn’t it?” Harry said. Malfoy grunted instead of answering, and twisted uncomfortably on the table.
“Hold still, I’m getting there,” Harry added. A wizard anatomy book lay open on the table next to Malfoy, and Harry was flipping through it as fast as he could with his free hand. “Why couldn’t you do this, if there’s such a bloody hurry?” he called out to Hermione.
He heard Hermione’s exasperated exhalation. “Harry. You’re the Chosen One. You’re the only one who can find the last Horcrux.”
Harry shook his head. He had seriously questioned the accuracy of the prophecy, but all signs indicated he was looking in the right place. And of all places, Draco Malfoy’s rectum was the last place he’d think to look.
“God, Potter, I’m beginning to think I’d do a better job myself.”
“Just shut up for a minute, okay, Malfoy?” Harry had finally come to the right page, and smoothed it flat with his hand. Okay, prostate. He’d never really thought about the word before. It sounded medical and secret, but also important.
Harry pushed his finger in a little more, and Malfoy made a slight noise. That was a good sign-- or was it? “How does that feel?” he asked.
"Like I've got Harry Potter's sodding finger halfway up my arse, what do you think?" Malfoy growled.
Harry sighed again. This was a lot harder to do than the book made out. "I'm trying, all right?"
Malfoy didn't say anything for a second, then he shifted again, making the circle of muscles squeeze around Harry's finger. "Maybe you should try something different," Malfoy muttered.
"OK," Harry said. He was starting to feel somewhat odd. Much too warm, and also --oh bollocks, this couldn't be happening, not while he was touching Malfoy.
He edged his hips away from the table, keeping his finger inserted. As long as his groin didn't nudge Malfoy's legs, he'd be fine. But Malfoy was squirming, and Harry couldn't get further away without taking his finger out. He would just have to deal with it. This was war, after all.
The book. What did the book say? A little more up, a little to the left, and he should be feeling it. He pressed in, and felt... something. Was that it?
"How's everything going in there?" Hermione's voice rang out, slightly nervous.
"Er-- getting closer!" Harry said. He was still reading. Try gently rubbing in a circular motion, varying the speed. Yeah, he could do that...
Malfoy appeared to be breathing harder. He was no longer resisting Harry's prodding finger, and it even seemed as though he were gently thrusting up against it.
"Better," Harry said aloud, keeping his finger active. He swallowed and wiped his forehead, wanting to avoid dripping sweat on Malfoy's back, not to mention Malfoy's inevitable jeers. Then he felt something else --a round bulb of tissue, pressing against the pad of his finger- could it be--? His own breath was coming faster, and he kept pushing in, stroking and rubbing the little bulb, propelling his own hips forward with each thrust, until ---
"OW!" yelled Malfoy.
"What is that?" Harry mused. His finger had bumped up against something not-Malfoy. It felt hard, cold, and metallic. He coaxed it with the tip of his fingernail, ignoring Malfoy's yelps, and when he withdrew his finger, the object came away easily - a silver key, tiny and ornate.
Harry stared at his hand in amazement. "I've got it, Hermione!" he shouted, victorious. "Now I'm going to destroy it!"
He flung the key to the floor, then whipped out his wand. "Evanesco!" he shouted. Nothing happened. "Relashio!" Flames rushed from his wand, but did nothing more than set the floor ablaze, the key glittering intact in its centre. "Aguamenti!" Harry quickly extinguished the fire, the water from his wand sending a choking cloud of steam to his face.
There had to be more spells, stronger magic -- what hadn't he tried?
The more urgent it was to remember something, the harder it was for him to recall. Eventually, he managed a Blasting Curse, which tore open a small cavity in the floor. The key fell peacefully beside it, undisturbed.
Glumly, Harry surveyed the damage he'd done. Filch would surely call for his head for the pitted floor alone, not to mention the myriad scorch marks and water stains. And he knew Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to rat him out to the evil old caretaker. If the Death Eaters didn't get them both first...
"Potter!" Malfoy whined. "You didn't finish!" He was still bent over the table, legs spread in the same position.
"Finish?" Harry asked. He was stamping on the key now, one foot after the other, then both, without success. "Can't you see this is an emergency?"
"No, this is an emergency." Malfoy said. He raised himself from the table and turned around, facing Harry.
Harry looked up and his jaw dropped. Malfoy was beautifully, perfectly erect, and he was oh, so long. For a second, he forgot all about the Horcrux and wanted nothing more than to tuck his tongue right between Malfoy's legs and lick him from his rectum to the bump of his testes, dragging up that smooth, pink shaft right to the tiny slit on top to sup at the pearly drop of nectar glistening there. And then to do it all over again...
"Malfoy," he gasped. "I can't... put my finger back. I need my hands free right now." He struggled to twist the key, failing to bend it; how could something so small and delicate-looking be so inflexible?
"I wasn't talking about your hands," Draco said, lowering his eyes meaningfully. Harry met them and blushed.
"You-- you mean?"
Trousers still pooled around his feet, Draco hopped back to the table and threw himself across it, sticking his naked rear out. "Isn't it blindingly obvious?" he drawled.
Harry dropped his wand, but kept the key in his grasp. It was possible to do two things at once, he reasoned. He unzipped his trousers in a flash. For a moment, the head of his cock pressed against the entrance of Malfoy's well-lubed hole, then he was in--
There was a loud, quick patter of raps at the door. "Harry! I can see the Dark Mark from the window!"
"One minute!" Harry screamed back. "Just give me one -- more-- minute!"
He squeezed the key in his hand, and pounded it on the table as he pounded into Malfoy, over and over again. Perhaps it was time for a different tactic. Grabbing Malfoy by one hip, he pulled him upright and then sat right down on the closest chair, Malfoy on his lap, Harry now all the way inside him.
That luscious cock now within his grasp, Harry brought his hand across Malfoy's waist and reached over to caress him. "Yes," Malfoy hissed under his breath, bouncing himself up and down on Harry's lap. "Oh --God-- yes!"
Harry bent his knees to move along with Malfoy, giving him everything he had, until Malfoy's cock trembled and then spasmed in Harry's hand. He groaned much louder than he wanted to, feeing Malfoy's orgasm pulse through his anal muscles and contract around his own cock like a sucking, wet mouth. His other hand clenched and unclenched reflexively, dropping the key.
A minute clink sounded as the key struck the ground, and then Harry heard the slightly louder percussion of shattering metal.
"Hermione, we-- I-- I did it! It's all gone!" he called, still thrusting into Malfoy. "DON'T COME--"
But he was too late. The door opened and closed sharply, but not before he heard a muffled shriek.
"In," Harry finished, lamely, and sucked in his breath, closing his eyes to magnify the sensations sweeping over him. Three directed thrusts straight into Malfoy, and he came fast and hard, his arms wrapped around Draco's chest, bracing him.
"S-- sorry," he panted, his British sense of decorum finally kicking in, but he doubted Hermione was still around to hear his apology.
Malfoy was the next to open his mouth. "You know, it always felt a little funny up there," he confessed. "Ever since the Dark Lord gave me --" he paused for a second before completing the sentence in a quieter voice--" the Task."
Harry grimaced, understanding Malfoy's vague reference all too well. But there was no point in hashing over old scores now. "That must have been right when he Petrified you and somehow charmed the Horcrux inside your body," he concluded. "Clever hiding place, I'll give him that. And say -- did you ever, er, get off that way before?"
Draco looked at him, frowning. "What are you getting at? Are you insinuating that I hire myself out to be buggered on a regular basis?"
"No, no, it's nothing, really -- just trying to figure out how the spell was broken-- oh, never mind. I've got to go, Malfoy. Now that the war's over and all. Thanks for your help, I mean that."
Impulsively, he bestowed a quick kiss on Draco's forehead. He felt Draco whisper something against his neck, and started. "Am I going mental, or did you just say 'Good, more time to cuddle?'"
"You've gone mental," Draco drawled. "Mad as a wet Kneazle. But there's nothing wrong with your ears."
"I thought Malfoys didn't cuddle."
"Wrong once again, Potter. We're undisputed masters of the art. World-renowned, in fact."
Harry hid his smile, nuzzling the curve of Malfoy's ear through his hair. All right, so it was soft and kissable. The war was history, but Malfoy was the same as always-- pompous, rude, and too bloody irresistible for his own good.
"All right, just this once," he murmured. "Just this once."