Archive of Our Own

1: Compile a Comprehensive Case Report

“Alright, then. No sense in beating around the bush,” Kingsley said to the roomful of snickering Aurors. “As you can see from the comprehensive case report Malfoy’s compiled, we have a set of magically enchanted dildos featuring in a string of low-budget, Muggle pornographies.” A loud moan sounded through the room as the case photographs came to life. A woman lay prostrate across a bed with an eight-inch, purple dildo fucking her in the arse. A few of the male Aurors readjusted in their seats. The women rolled their eyes.

“I’ll thank you all in advance for your maturity while tackling this case,” Kingsley warned, conjuring the next of Draco’s images into the air behind him. A man stood bent over a bathtub, a green dildo filling his mouth; a blue one thrust into him from behind. Rawlins choked audibly beside him. “Whoever’s behind these films cares little for genre discrimination. These… toys have cropped up all over the place. Gay films, straight films, er… what were the other kinds?” he asked, turning to Malfoy.

“BDSM, BBW, smothering, incest, mature, fisting, bestiality—”

“Right, I think that’s enough.”

“Pregnant fetishes, spanking, pumping—”

“Malfoy, I said that was en—”

“No, hang on. I spent a lot of time researching this. There’s still scat, urethral play, object insertion, water sports—”

“You mean like Muggle water polo?”

“Yes, Rawlins. Exactly like Muggle water polo.” Idiot.

“Anyway,” Kingsley ploughed on. “Now that you all know what it is we’re dealing with here, it’s time to begin planning out a course of action for hunting down these…” Draco tuned out the rest of Kingsley’s speech. He’d been researching the case for the past two weeks and had prepared the debrief together with Kingsley the night before. Honestly, he rather wished the Head Auror hadn’t mandated his presence at this blasted meeting when he could have better occupied his time with more research. (And, of course, the occasional study break. For relieving himself of certain… side effects that came with such studious porn surfing—er. Research. Studious porn research. Yes.)

Kingsley conjured up another set of images. More dildo fucking and forced grunting. This one had no sophistication whatsoever. The lighting was all wrong, and the actors were annoyingly amateur. He’d told Kingsley not to focus on the TMA films. PornPub handled its storylines with far superior finesse.

Another set of poorly enacted scenes floated in the air. Draco scoffed and fiddled with his quill. He’d enchanted it to prick anyone else who tried to use it, but he’d mucked the spell up a bit, and now it wriggled away from his fingers whenever he squeezed too hard. Like now. It squirmed and twisted and then jerked right out of his hands and onto the floor.

Damn it. He scowled and bent to grab it, but the downy feather flopped farther beneath the table until he was forced to crawl after it. Not that anyone noticed. The neon coloured dildos reflected all about the walls as they alternately disappeared and reappeared from within another person’s arse, cunt, mouth, breasts, thighs, arse cheeks, arm pits….

Why was he under the table, again? Oh, right. Damn quill.

He snatched it near the bottom of someone’s left shoe. A certain messy someone. Ugh. Potter. How did one go his whole life without learning a proper shoe shining charm? He was tempted to cast it himself. Perhaps if he did it very quietly, no one would notice. He chanced a glance up towards Potter and nearly gagged on his own horror.

Potter was, for lack of a better word, bloody ginormous. Colossal. Ti-the-fucking-tanic. A furious heat filled Draco’s chest, and no, you stupid wankers, it was not the heat of sexual appetite. It was the heat of envy and outrage and a thousand and one injustices forced upon Draco from the very first day he laid eyes upon that stupid Harry Potter. And okay, maybe just a little sexual appetite.

Throughout their entire relationship as mutual arch nemeses (that Riddle character didn’t count; he was everyone’s arch nemesis), Potter had always bested him. At Quidditch, at dueling, at whiny, stupid-girl kissing (and Draco didn’t even like girls). Yet Draco had always accepted it, taken it in stride even. Because secretly, he’d always believed that he’d bested Potter where it really counted. In the pants. After all, he carried around a rather impressive Harry Johnson himself. A veritable cornholer. An unbeatable, one-eyed willy. A long dong silver. A tonsil tickler. An anal impaler. A bratwurst meat-popsicle. A big Italian salami and bologna pony. A stinky pickle. (Ugh. On second thought, maybe not. That last one sounded just a tad… gauche if he did say so himself.) A Tally Whacker Little Soldier Jack-in-the-Box. And he didn’t even know what that was. But he had it. Or at least, he’d thought he had. Until he saw the monstrous beast bulging out against Potter’s thigh. It practically reached the man’s knees (well, okay, no; but almost)!

A loud ‘snap!’ pulled Draco from his thoughts (read: apocalyptic bewailing), and he looked down at his broken quill. A dribble of blood coated the tip of one finger. Potter’s legs jumped, then hastily crossed. Draco made his way back to his chair, defeated and bleeding (literally – that had to count for something!) and hating Potter more than he’d ever done before.

He glanced up to glower at Potter. If he was going to lose his very manhood to the stupid sod, after all, he would at least do it as the paragon of absolute loathing itself. Make Potter squirm. But as he gazed into the other man’s blushing face, he found Potter was squirming for different reasons altogether. He averted his eyes, looking anywhere but at Draco.

Oh, no. Merlin, no. This was too rich. Too perfect. Too… everything Draco had never dared to wish for. For whatever absurd reason, the idiot Gryffindor was not proud. No. Definitely not. Instead, Potter was embarrassed about his notable… girth.

And Draco planned to milk it for all that turgid shaft was worth.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

2: Make Small Talk in the Lift

The next morning, Draco followed Potter into the lift. He settled against one wall without a word, bracing himself against the backward pull. At the next stop, a group of four older witches stepped in, and Draco had no choice but to shove well up against Potter. The elderly deserved to have their space after all. He ignored Potter’s frown.

“Potter,” he began, leafing idly through his case folder while he spoke. “Horrid weather we’ve been having lately.” He paused at an image of a woman in scanty knickers and a yellow dildo between her legs.

“I suppose,” Potter replied, glancing casually at Draco’s folder and then away. Draco flipped through to the next image.

“Seems the sun may have finally abandoned our Western shores once and for all.” Another woman lay back on a bed, her head hanging off the edge while a tangerine dildo fucked her mouth.

“Doubt it. Summers are always wet.” Sharp as knives, that one. Potter blew out a huff and glanced at his watch. Draco flipped through his folder for a better image. Maybe something with a shot of tits. He sliced his finger on the edge of one photograph and swore under his breath. Potter looked down, and Draco barely held back his groan. Shit. He hadn’t meant for Potter to see that one. It was an image of seven men bent over in a line, each one fucked by a different colour of the rainbow. Not the typical hetero’s fancy. He’d have to try again tomorrow.

“Is that… er. Never mind,” Potter muttered, looking away. His cheeks seemed rosier than they’d been moments before.

Had he seen that right? Draco glanced back and forth between the tawdry photograph and Potter’s blushing face several times. Interesting. He flipped to the back of the folder and pulled out the stack of photos behind a tab marked ‘M/M.’

“Lollies are my favourite sort of sweet.”

“What?” Potter turned towards Draco at the odd non sequitur. And caught an eye full of a brawny hand shoving down on the back of a man’s neck until he choked on a pink willy. Potter swallowed and stepped away. His blush deepened.

“I just think we should start putting them out ‘round the office. You know. As a cheer-me-up of sorts.”

Potter grunted noncommittally; he didn’t look back.

Distracted as he was, Draco could hardly help the slip of his finger as it brushed over the corner tab that brought the photograph to life. Guttural groans filled the lift, and the women all gasped in horror.

“Oh, so sorry, ladies,” Draco apologised. “Can’t get these silly case files under control.” The women turned their noses up in disgust, but that was alright. Draco had eyes only for the burgeoning bulge between Potter’s legs. God. It was bigger than he remembered. The lift jerked to the left.

Draco cleared his throat. “Potter,” he clamped down on the smirk tugging at his lips. Subtlety was key. “Not that I make it a habit to pry into other people’s business, but I dare say a rather large boa has crawled up your trousers.” The women screeched and swivelled towards Potter, who frantically tugged at the edges of his robes.

He laughed unsteadily. “He’s joking.” At everyone’s sceptical glance (for all Draco knew, there really was a starved boa constrictor coiled around Potter’s leg. No one had the right to a willy that large), he ground out more forcefully, “He’s joking.”

Draco preened in the face of Potter’s glare. He had always excelled at being the centre of attention. It gave him a certain… joie de vivre.

The lift lurched to an abrupt halt, and Potter stormed past the sliding doors.

These were going to be a delightful next few days.

3: Keep Him Company in the Loo

Draco’s hand was firmly curled around his prick the next time he saw Potter. Casually leaning into the urinal two stands away from a man he suspected to be an Unspeakable, he waited for Potter’s daily after-lunch visit to the loo. Not that he was keeping track.

Just on cue, Potter strolled in. He froze halfway to the urinals. Only one spot remained. Directly to Draco’s left.

“Potter, fancy seeing you again.” Draco’s piss spurt forth against the white porcelain. Finally. (He’d been holding in his damn piss for nearly seven minutes and two other – slightly bemused – urinal neighbours.)

Potter hesitated, looking between the open urinal and the toilet stalls. He set his shoulders and walked determinedly to Draco’s side. Draco waited till he’d tugged down his zip before adding, “I’ve been making some brilliant headway on the dildo case.” Potter’s eyes widened. The maybe-Unspeakable swivelled his head conspicuously in their direction. No subtlety whatsoever. Definitely not an Unspeakable, then.

Draco paused a moment, listening to the sound of his piss as he waited for Potter to pull out his own prick. “You see, gay pornography seems to have a particular affinity for brightly coloured sex toys. Did you know that?”

Potter grunted gruffly in response. No sound came forth from his prick.

“Sometimes they even like to use one dildo to fuck two men at once. Don’t you think that’s a bit ridiculous? Two perfectly functioning – and let me tell you, quite respectable – penises, and yet they use a toy to get the job done.”

Potter’s left brow twitched upward. Draco’s stream fizzled out. “But do you want to know something odd?” He shook his penis twice before tucking it back behind his pants. He pulled up the zip with a smirk and turned to face Potter completely. “They prefer real pricks when it comes to their mouths.” Potter seemed to have stopped breathing. “I’ve got hours of footage of twiggy little men bending over for these fake neon penises, grunting and moaning and begging for more. But all the while, it’s always a real prick fucking their mouths and coming down their throats. Quite vulgar stuff, really.”

The not-Unspeakable zipped his trousers and hurried out. Without even bothering to wash his hands, the vile plebeian. Draco glanced down at Potter’s prick, now thick and full and peaking out from the trembling hand. The head stared up at Draco, wide and red and reminding him a bit of the angry eye of Mordor. (He was never letting Rawlins rope him into another Muggle movie showing again.)

“Didn’t you have to take a piss?” Draco asked innocently.

Potter viciously shoved his too stiff prick back into his trousers and rushed off without a word. Also without washing his hands. Ugh.

4: Hand Wash his Trousers

Draco knocked twice before popping his head around Potter’s cubicle.

“Malfoy, what—?”

Draco took pleasure in Potter’s rising blush. So he had finally been conditioned to grow flustered (and hard…?) at Draco’s mere presence. Wonderful.

“Potter, I see you have company.” He nodded in Weasley’s direction. “This won’t take long, I promise. I just wanted to hand you the latest updates on the dildo case.” He ignored Weasley’s splutter. Those poor fools in the DRCMC – there was simply no fun to be had in Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Boring.

“Er, thank you,” Potter said behind his mug of coffee, his eyes trained somewhere to Draco’s left.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I’m leading the case, so I have to make sure everyone’s up to speed. And since you always seem in such a rush every time I catch you….” Draco allowed a moment for the implication to sink in. Potter blinked several times. “Anyway, here they are,” he said, marching forward and thrusting several folders forcefully at Potter. It knocked into the coffee mug, spilling its contents all over Potter’s trousers. Potter yelped and jumped, and Draco tried very hard to be helpful.

“Oh, Merlin! Potter, I’m so sorry! Let me help you,” he said, grabbing at his monogrammed handkerchief and dabbing persistently at Potter’s lap. Potter gasped and shot back down into his seat, pushing away from Draco.

“It’s fine! Please stop. I can just Scourgify—”

“Oh no, Potter. Never Scourgify a pair of trousers. For goodness’ sake, don’t you know what a spell like that would do to the material?” At Potter’s nonplussed look, he swooped down and continued his rough dabbing. And okay, maybe a bit of dragging. Rubbing. Caressing. But mostly dabbing. “It would wear it down completely. No, no. Better to wash it by hand!”

Potter pushed at Draco’s shoulders, and Draco felt the stiffening length beneath the soaked cotton. “Malfoy, please--!”

“Potter, I will not stop until your trousers have been thoroughly attended to!” Potter’s prick nudged against the side of Draco’s thumb, and he couldn’t help but brush his whole hand against it. He paused, physically restraining himself from squeezing tightly around the deliciously soaked length. But he failed. And for a split second that seemed to stretch for ages, he squeezed the turgid member, fluttering his eyes with pleasure. It’s possible that a tiny moan escaped his lips, too. Well, not a moan. More like a whimper of sheer ecstasy that—no, no. Don’t be ridiculous. It was merely a very manly grunt. That may or may not have sounded like a whimper. And a moan. And a helpless mutt in heat. Maybe.

It was a moment before he realised Potter had stopped pushing him away.

He glanced up to see an enigmatic expression flit across Potter’s features. Potter’s eyes narrowed and his mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Draco’s face. “Did you just…?” He asked, staring down at Draco’s hand, still moulded around his monstrous cock.

In a flash, a wicked grin stretched across Potter’s lips. Draco snatched his hand away, then backed away. Slowly. He had learned from an early age not to make any sudden movements around a wild animal. It smelled one’s fear that way.

“Erm, right. Well, I think that’s as dry as it’s going to get for the time being.” Draco licked his lips and stepped around Weasley’s scowling form. “I’ll just, ah--- be on my way, then.”

He tried not to focus on the flash of teeth behind Potter’s widening (malicious!) smirk.

5: Team Up with Neville Longbottom

After his last encounter with the wild beast that was Harry Potter, Draco decided to take a break from his Slytherin scheme. There was a case to be cracked, and he needed to get on with it already. Following several successful firecalls with Longbottom, Draco invited the IUMO’s contact liaison for a meeting with the Auror division. Longbottom’s extensive knowledge on the Improper Use of Magic was vital to the dildo case.

“Everyone,” Draco announced as he walked around the conference room, passing everyone a copy of Longbottom’s case research, “kindly thank our IUMO liaison for his extensive contributions to our latest case. He’s found numerous leads on the particular types of spells used on the dildos in question, which in turn has allowed us to create several leads on the organisations and people behind said spells.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Longbottom said. He stood at the front of the room, where he motioned at the enlarged images floating in the air. “As you can see here, this is not the first time a Muggle sex toy has been magically enhanced. These here are a pair of Muggle handcuffs that secure around any two objects with a specified word combination. And here you can see a set of anal plugs charmed to expand on command.” A few grimaces cropped up throughout the room. “There are several other examples I’ll get through over the course of this meeting, but it’s important to keep in mind that each of these objects was enchanted with a unique….”

Draco drowned out the rest of Longbottom’s lecture. He was much more concerned with hovering casually behind Potter. His legs fell apart naturally on his seat, but the bulk of Potter’s robes made it difficult to distinguish the particular… topography in his lap.

“… Malfoy? Malfoy!”

He jerked his head up to see Longbottom walking towards him. “The Cadinger images. I wondered if you could pass them around. They’re in that folder I gave you earlier todaaa-aah!” Longbottom yelped as he tripped over the hem of his robes and right into Draco, who subsequently fell back. And directly into Potter’s lap.

“Gah!” Potter’s stiff beast of a cock pressed against Draco’s arse, and he scrambled to get up. “Sorry,” he said, an inexplicable heat rushing to his face. He couldn’t help but glance down at Potter’s now parted robes, half expecting the man to shut them tight. He nearly squeaked when, instead, Potter parted his legs wider, the bulge in his trousers thick and growing. He gulped at Potter’s predatory grin.

“Sorry about that, Malfoy. I’ve been meaning to get these robes hemmed. Always been a bit too long on me.”

“Right.”

“Can I have a look at that folder?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Here you are. I, er… have something else I need to attend to. I trust you can finish up the rest of the meeting without me.”

“Er… I suppose.”

“Splendid. I’ll catch up with you later, then.”

He rushed off to the second floor loo, where he brought himself off in under two minutes flat. At the door, Draco wondered what the scowling man at the urinals was so upset about. After all, he’d washed his hands when he was done.

6: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize

He had given up on humiliating Potter. Draco was in way over his head. As he’d always been whenever that pissant tosser was concerned. He had lost this match, and it was time to concede the victory with decorum.

But one week after the Longbottom incident, Potter peeked his head into Draco’s cubicle – without even knocking, the uncultured git – and told him they were to pair up in an undercover raid for the dildo case. At the filming of a Muggle porno video.

“What?”

“We got an anonymous tip earlier today, and Kingsley thinks this might be the main operation sight. If we find the toys, we can find the makers, and Kingsley doesn’t want to take a chance waiting any longer.”

“And he wants you and me to go undercover for it.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You and me?”

“Er… yes?”

“But Rawlins is my partner.”

“Yeah, well, Rawlins can’t make it.”

“What do you mean, Rawlins can’t make it?”

“Look, will you just stop asking questions? It’s you and me.”

“I want to talk to Kingsley about this.”

“No. You can’t. It’s already done. We’re meeting tomorrow to Portkey to the filming studio.”

“And what exactly are we supposed to be doing?”

“Not entirely sure. The details haven’t been fully worked out, yet. But Kingsley’s assured me he’ll brief us on all the necessities before we head over.”

“So we’re just supposed to show up to the filming of a Muggle porn video?”

“That’s the idea.”

“And then what?”

“I told you. I don’t know yet. But I do know what the film’s about.” Potter grinned then, leaning one shoulder casually against the side of Draco’s cubicle.

“… you do?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be a gay film. Two blokes fucking each other in a college classroom.”

“College?”

“Yeah. It’s about a professor who teaches his student about obedience.”

“Obedience?” Draco seemed incapable of uttering little more than a few syllables at a time.

“Mmhmm,” Potter said, moving to lean back against Draco’s desk, his legs spread wide. His monstrous cock stretched at the seams of his crotch. Draco wondered if it would burst right through the zip. “Because this student’s been very naughty of late. And he needs to learn how to respect his superiors. He needs someone to put him in his place.”

Breathe, Draco thought desperately. But he couldn’t take his eyes off that throbbing, monstrous prize. No, prick! He meant prick!

Potter cocked – gah! Must stop thinking cock! – his head to the side and peered down deviously at Draco. “Know anyone else who might need a little… discipline?”

Draco spluttered and pushed his chair back, shouting, “Potter, I haven’t got time for these silly little riddles of yours. Now if you’ve said all you came to say, I would appreciate it if you let me get back to work. We can’t all rely on our celebrity status to get us through life.”

“Right. I’ll just be on my way, then. Sorry to have distracted you.”

But he didn’t look sorry at all. And neither did his cock.

7: (And if All Else Fails) Film a Low-Budget Muggle Porno with Him

“You want us to what?” Draco spluttered, indignant.

“Obviously, you won’t have to actually do anything. You’re just standing in as the understudies.” Kingsley replied. His eyes didn’t quite meet Draco’s, the bloody coward.

“I did not spend two years training to be an Auror just so you could force me into filmed prostitution!”

“I’m up for it,” Potter chimed in, a grin in his eyes.

“Attaboy, Harry! That’s exactly the sort of can-do attitude we need around here.”

“Oh, sure. Praise the unloved orphan boy for trading money for sex. Never saw that one coming.”

“Malfoy, you are not trading money for sex. In fact, you will not be having sex at all. You are merely going to snoop around the filming sight to search for evidence. And everyone there will just happen to think that you’re a porn industry understudy. I don’t see with the problem is.”

“This is ridiculous. I refuse.”

“You can’t,” Harry said, an edge to his voice. “I mean, the Portkey was specially designed to only allow you and me access. No one else can fill in for you, now.”

Draco looked up at Kingsley, aghast. “Is that true?”

The man paused, a curious look tainting his features for a moment. Then he coughed and said, “Ah… yes, yes. That’s exactly right. It has to be you.”

“So, what? Are we supposed to go dressed in skimpy shorts and a mesh tank top?” Okay, in Draco’s defence, he only knew about those sorts of outfits from his research. Promise. Mostly.

“Not at all. The Ministry has provided you and Harry each with an everyday Muggle outfit. They only require the filming actors to go in costume.”

“Right,” Draco said, hating this already. He was not some sort of rentboy!Draco. Hang on… why did he just insert an extra exclamation mark between those two words in his mind? What the hell…?

“Here are your outfits.” Kingsley switched their clothes with a casual flick of his wand. “Now, if you two will each grab a hold of—”

“Is that a dildo?!” Draco screeched.

“Well, we thought it best to try and blend in.”

“With a dildo.”

“Well, I mean, it is a porn film.”

Closing his eyes in a futile effort to calm himself, he shook his head and stretched out an arm.

“Ready?” Potter asked beside him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“On three, then. One, two, three!” And that was the very first time Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter fisted a ten-inch, aqua dildo together.

The second time they fisted a ten-inch, aqua dildo together happened a little later.

Draco and Potter reappeared in a dingy, one-person loo, crammed against each other in the confined space.

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco muttered, shoving at him to grab for the doorknob.

The two tumbled out in a mess of limbs, and a passing woman with bright pink hair and a Muggle headset smirked at them. “Practising for the cameras, boys?” She winked. Draco blushed. Harry grinned.

“Oh, my god. Is that them?” A frazzled brunette stalked up to them. “Where the hell have you been? You’re thirty minutes late!”

“…eh, wuh?” was all Draco managed before the woman tugged at each of their arms, dragging them towards what he guessed was the “stage.”

“Take off your clothes,” she commanded.

“What??”

She signalled for a man to her right, and he shoved a ball of clothing into Draco and Potter’s arms. “No, the other way around,” she said, swapping their clothes. “You look like the kind of boy who needs a spanking,” she nodded in Draco’s direction. He nearly fell over at the statement. “And you,” she continued, turning to Harry, “Look like just the man to do it. Be sure to teach him a really good lesson, won’t you?”

Okay. Pause. Not that Draco would consider himself an expert in the goings-on of low-budget, Muggle pornos, but this sure as fuck didn’t seem like work appropriate behaviour.

Potter finally spoke up – despite his persistent grinning. “Sorry, but we’re actually just the understudies.”

“And we actually just don’t have any other actors,” the woman responded, so snarky even Draco thought he’d rather not test her limits. “The originals bailed, and we need you to stand in for them. Capiche?”

Okay. Seriously? Seriously? Draco glanced around a few times, waiting for Kingsley and the rest of the Auror team to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” Because this had to be a joke.

“Um, are you sure?” For the first time, Potter’s grin wavered. Not so smug, now, you stupid bastard, Draco thought.

“No, I’m only kidding.” Her glare was scathing. “Now hurry the fuck up and get changed. We’re filming in two.”

Draco turned to Potter, who only shrugged and started undressing.

“Potter, you can’t be serious!”

“No. That would be my godfather.” Draco blinked at him. Harry sighed. “Look, we came here to do a mission. It’s best if we just play along.”

“Are you mad? This isn’t an R-rated Hollywood film. This is real sex. With real penises going into real holes!”

“With real blokes?” Potter teased.

“Potter, I’m not playing! Are you seriously agreeing to have sex with me in front of all these people getting every second of it on film?”

“Yes, actually. I rather find the whole idea quite… exciting.” He whispered the last word so close against Draco’s ear that he felt the moist warmth of Potter’s breath. Disgusting. And not at all so fucking hot he was already desperate to come.

Draco swallowed. He licked his lips. And began to undress.

“Oh, good, you’re both hard already. Nicholas, tell the fluffers we won’t be needing them after all.” Draco tried not to die on the spot. Or to look over at Potter.

But he did, and holy mother of pearl, it was huge. Way bigger without any clothes to hide its bulk in all its red-hot, throbbing glory. Another gulp. How the hell was he supposed to fit that up his bum.

“What’s this?” the woman asked, tugging the glittering dildo still clamped tightly in Draco’s fist.

“Oh, that. That’s nothing,” Draco stuttered, struggling to pull it back while finishing the buttons on his school boy uniform.

“No. I like it. We weren’t planning on having any dildos on the set, but maybe we’ll make use of it after all.” She tugged it out of his hand and passed it to the man she had called Nicholas.

“No dildos?” Draco mouthed to Potter.

An inscrutable look passed over Potter’s face. Then he shook his head, saying, “That doesn’t mean anything. They could still be around here somewhere. Maybe with the set designers. Or something. We’d better stay.” His eyes were wide and wavering and maybe just a little bit… pleading?

Draco finally nodded. “Alright.”

Potter beamed, and Draco rolled his eyes, and didn’t at all smile back or giggle or blush.

“Okay, boys,” the woman (‘Tina,’ according to Nicholas’ furtive whispers) said when Draco finished knotting his tie, a thin black line down his crisp white shirt. The Muggle blazer felt stiff against his shoulders. Nothing like a flowing cloak. “We’re going to start with you sitting at the desk,” she said to Draco, “and you leaning against the teacher’s desk,” she said to Potter. “The premise is that he’s in detention for not doing his homework, and now you’ve got to teach him a lesson.” Draco’s whole body grew hot at her words. “Just your basic dialogue will do. Nothing too fancy. Nothing too long. Throw him over the desk and get to the spanking quick.”

“Spanking?” Draco shrieked. No, no. He was a man about it. He asked it very calmly.

“Don’t interrupt. You’re going to spank him with his pants tugged down to his knees, but not all the way down. Our viewers love it when the pants stay on. And make sure you throw in a lot of dirty talk about how naughty he is and what a good, hard lesson you’re gonna teach him. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Potter replied, only it came out as more of a ragged whisper.

“Great. And then you’re gonna use this,” she said, brandishing the aqua dildo again, “to teach him what’s good. And you know what? While you’re doing that, tell him he’s not good enough for your real dick. He’s gotta earn it. And he will. Got that?”

“Uhuh,” Potter nodded dumbly.

“Oh, and one other thing. The camera’s got to catch both of you come. No come, no pay. So if you’re fucking him, make sure you pull out and come on top of him for us to see.”

Draco blinked. Hard.

“Now get in place. Everyone get ready.” When Draco and Potter moved to their assigned spots, she called out, “Okay, we’re rolling in three… two…!” A green light shone from the camera and Draco looked up at Potter nervously.

But Potter had morphed into someone different. His eyes trained on Draco’s, unwavering and intense, and he licked his lips, a predator.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy,” he said – no, purred. He pushed off the desk, stalking towards Draco, and –

“CUT!” yelled Tina. Potter snapped back to normal, eyes owlish and confused. And maybe just a little bit furious as fuck. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Malfoy’?”

“Uh…. I-”

“No! Shut up! His name is little Johnny McCullen, and you’re just Professor Pritchett. And… action!”

Potter blinked and cleared his throat and then once again disappeared behind the veil of evil. “Well, Mr. Ma—McCullen,” he said again, resting both hands firmly against Draco’s desk. “It seems you’ve been a very naughty boy.”

Draco was speechless. No, really, though. He could literally think of nothing to say. He sat there in silence for another moment, mentally willing Potter to move it along.

“You haven’t done any of your homework in a month, and we here at St. Brutus’ just can’t have that, now can we?”

“Uh…” Draco said. Well, it was something.

“You’ve got detention for a week. But I just don’t think sitting around for an hour a day is going to do the trick. I think you need something more. Something… memorable.”

After another pause in which Draco for the first time worried whether or not it was possible for one’s penis to literally explode, Harry snapped, “Get up! Over the desk, now!”

“Uh… but, Po—Professor, don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

“Did I bloody well ask you for your opinion?” Draco gasped, incredibly aroused. “Bend. Over. The table.”

Trembling, Draco approached the desk and – in front of all those blasted cameras and lights and filming crew and Potter – bent over one edge of the desk. He chanced a glance back in Potter’s direction.

“Did I say you could look at me? Eyes front, boy!”

Draco’s head snapped back. Holy fucking fuck, that was hot. “Yes, sir.”

He felt Potter step up behind him. He gripped Draco’s left hip with one hand and used the other to rub rhythmically against his right arse cheek. The soothing movement proved a stark contrast to his biting tone. “You need to learn to do as you’ve been told, Mr. M- Mr. McCullen.” Draco shivered in response. “I’m going to teach you a lesson if it’s the last thing I do. Is that clear?” Draco swallowed. A snapping sound suddenly registered in his mind a moment before the stinging pain of a slap against his arse tore a yelp through his throat. “I said, is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Good. From now on, you do exactly as you’re told, the moment that you’re told. And you will respond when spoken to. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Excellent. Pull down your trousers.” Draco shoved them down before Potter could land another blow. “Full marks for speed,” he teased as Draco’s dick dug into the cold, mahogany wood. He laid a rough hand against Draco’s back, pushing him down. “At no point should your chest leave the desk’s surface unless I tell you to move. Keep your chest down, and your arse up. Spread your legs. Wider. Yes, that’s it. Now hold still. You’ve been a naughty, naughty boy, and I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” Draco heard a shuttering breath behind him. He wished he could see Potter’s face. Instead, he felt a burning slap against his arse. He screamed out. “Yes, that’s right. Let it out.”

He landed another blow, and Draco cried out, “Oh, gods!” Again and again, he landed blow after blow until Draco felt like his whole arse was on fire.

“You’ve been a naughty little boy, haven’t you, Mr. McCullen?” Draco yelped at the punctuating slap. “I said, haven’t you?” The next blow was even harder.

“Yes, yes! God, yes!” Smack! Slap! Spank!

“How,” Thwack! “naughty?” Spank!

“So naughty!” Smack! Spank! Slap!

“Are you going to learn your lesson?” He spanked Draco with every word.

“Yes, yes! Please!”

“Are you going to do your homework?” More and more strikes against his increasingly sensitive skin.

“Gods, yesssss!” Despite himself, he was rutting against the table, alternately pressing his weeping dick against the desk and shoving back for more. It hurt and it stung and went straight to his groin.

“Tell me what a bad little boy you’ve been.” Another three blows.

“Oh! I’m a bad boy! Such a bad boy! A really, really naughty boy!”

“Ngh. Yes. That’s it. Press back into my hand. God, you’re so dirty. I bet you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Shoving back for more. Because you deserve it. You know you do!”

“Yes! Please! Teach me a lesson! Teach this filthy little boy a lesson!”

Potter landed several more blows, each one hotter than the last. On his arse, on his thighs, on his hips. He was grunting above him, out of breath and possibly shaking, but his hand fell firm and steady. Draco was reduced to whimpers and yelps and incoherent pleas of “more!” and “yes, please” and a rambling litany of, “naughty boy, naughty boy, naughty, naughty, naughtynaughtnaughtyyyy.” He was certainly going to be sore for days.

Finally, Potter stopped, breath ragged, both hands squeezing at Draco’s haunches. Draco stilled, waiting for his next command.

“That’s a good little boy. Very good. I think you’ve earned yourself a bit of a prize.” Draco shivered as Potter pulled out the dildo Portkey. Holy fucking mama, that was a big one! “Turn around,” and he did, anxious and desperate and hot. “Sit on the edge. I want you to help me give you your prize.” He tugged at Draco’s hand.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the second time Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter fisted a ten-inch, aqua dildo together. Potter tilted Draco at an angle and rubbed a lube-slicked hand (when had that happened?) all around the toy before guiding Draco’s hand against his opening. Another moment, and the dildo had broken past the first ring of pressure, gliding carefully into his rectum. It burned slightly, and Draco relished it all the more.

“You like that?” Potter asked, and Draco nodded fervently. “Good, because I’m gonna fuck you with this until you’re good and ready to take the real thing.”

“Aaiunghhh,” was something like the sound Draco squeaked in response, but it was quite embarrassing and is rather difficult to reproduce in words.

Potter continued to help Draco fuck himself with the Ministry-issued ten-inch dildo until Draco fell back onto the desk, unable to keep his balance any longer. The fake dick was hard and long and thick and persistent, and Draco was ready to combust!

“P-professor, please,” he whined, bucking his hips and flailing his legs around Potter’s sides. Potter snapped. He ripped out the dildo (quite painfully, in fact, the inconsiderate brute) and flipped Draco over in one fluid movement so that he was once again bent over the desk, arse high in the air. He heard the toy fall to the floor as a string of cool liquid squirted onto his arse. He looked back to see a translucent tube of lube squeezed firmly in Potter’s hand. He supposed the prop had been left out earlier. Potter rubbed the oily liquid all around Draco’s bum slicking it until it was warm and glistening.

“Yes, so good,” Potter hissed, squeezing roughly at his bum. “Nice and red and hot. I ought to spank you some more.”

“Ngg. Yesss.”

“So eager to be disciplined.” He slapped his arse so hard, Draco felt the skin reverberate. “That’s what I like.” Another slap. “Now I’m going to show you what a good little boy gets as his reward.” And with that, Potter shoved into Draco so roughly, the two crashed into the desk and slid it half a meter forward with a hideous screech. “Shit!” Potter grunted, and Draco couldn’t agree more. He had never had anything quite so unbelievably, freakishly, grotesquely, blissfully, wonderfully HUGE up his bum before, and he couldn’t believe it had taken him quite so long. He shoved back hard, wanting to take in more, and arched up with a shaky moan.

“Fuck yeah,” Potter muttered. Another smack against his side as he ploughed back into Draco. Potter fucked and spanked him until Draco was lost in a dizzy haze of luscious pain and pleasure, the pain allowing him to last far longer than he would have otherwise managed with a cock that delicious. “Take it, Malfoy. Take it.”

“Yes, fuck me, Potter. Fuck me!”

“MalfoyMalfoyMalfoy!”

“CUT!” yelled out a shrill and furious voice. But Draco was too far gone. He didn’t care. And if Potter’s continued rutting was anything to go by, neither did he. The director continued to shout at them to stop, but instead, Potter reached around to grip Draco’s swollen prick and fisted it until he came with a shuddering cry. His rectum contracted around the fullness of Potter’s cock, and Potter started chanting, “Make me come, make me come, make me come,” even as Draco felt the shots of thick, hot liquid spurting into his arse as Potter convulsed all around him.

Potter collapsed against his back, sweaty and breathy and gross, and Draco reached around to press him down closer. Dirty Potter. Who probably hadn’t even washed his hands before this.

“What the fuck was that?!” Screeched out Tina, rushing forward. “First of all, you changed the names completely. And second of all, I told you to pull out when you came! And what about telling him he didn’t deserve your cock while you were fucking him with the dildo? Jesus Christ, we’re going to have to do the whole scene again!”

Potter’s face broke into a grin, and he looked down at Draco. “You okay with that?”

“As long as Kingsley doesn’t find out.”

Tina walked back to the director’s chair, yelling at everyone to get back in place and take it from the top. Two men with towels came out to rub Draco and Potter dry. As they started redressing, Draco looked over to Potter with a worried glance.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just—well this clearly isn’t the magical dildo operating sight. What are we going to do?”

“I guess we’ll just have to try again, tomorrow.” And with that, he prepared to spank Draco into obedience. Again.