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Current mood:	discontent
Entry tags:	harry/draco, my fics, other pairings

FIC:Nowhere to Look (Fenrir/Draco; NC-17)
Title: Nowhere to Look
Author: bewarethesmirk
Pairings: Fenrir/Draco, Harry. H/D subtext.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Underage, non-con, voyeurism, dirty talk, AU
Summary: Harry watched through the bars.
Notes: ~1,000 words. Written for lavillanueva because I knew she liked this pairing and I need to start polishing my pr0n-writing skills before I can post to Pornish Pixies. I'm so out of my league here, and I freely admit I have no idea what I'm doing. Concrit welcomed and encouraged. Oh? I took some details from DH and ignored others. Harry is conveniently alone in the Malfoy dungeons. Sue me.

ETA: Thanks to ships_harry for pointing out the typo!



Harry hoped against long forsaken hope that Greyback and Malfoy would be gone. When he opened his eyes again they were still there. They weren’t just a mere illusion. They were real.

Harry’s forehead was pressed against the cold steel of the metal bars. His scar, a pink stigmata on his otherwise pale face, was visible through the space between the bars.

On the other side of the dungeon, Greyback had backed Malfoy against the wall. Greyback’s coat was matted and the stench of fur, sweat and sick vied for equal opportunity to suffocate Harry long before Voldemort ever got his hands on him.

Harry could only look at Malfoy.

Malfoy’s was frailer than Harry had ever seen him. His black robes hung from his limbs and clumpy strands of white-blond hair fell past his pointed chin, nearly reaching his shoulders. Harry felt something churn in his gut.

Greyback must have noticed when Malfoy’s wide-eyed gaze was no longer locked on him. Harry couldn’t look away. Malfoy’s expression could just as easily be asking Harry to watch or to look away, to help or to fuck off. In vain, Harry wished for his wand.

Harry leant forward against the bars as Greyback whirled around to find him staring.

“Potter,” he sneered. “Mind your own business.” He sniffed the air and sighed with dramatic gusto. “I have someone to attend to.”

Recalling the way Greyback had looked at Hermione-no, don’t think of her-Harry felt sick. He hated Malfoy, but…

No. Malfoy had got himself into this situation—had got them all into this situation. He deserved whatever he had coming.

Greyback stepped further into Malfoy’s space, until Malfoy’s back was flat against the wall and he had nowhere else to go. Trapped.

Greyback didn’t even look over his shoulder to know Harry was still staring.

“Potter, are you so eager to watch?” he growled, voice low and tinged with amusement.

Harry trembled, though he was not sure why. He turned away from Malfoy’s haunted grey eyes and looked around the cell. The dead form of Peter Pettigrew. He felt bile rise to his throat and looked at the other corner—the unconscious form of Ollivander. He couldn’t watch that either. His eyes were drawn back as if by magnetic force.

Greyback’s arm was moving back and forth, his elbow flexing, and Harry wondered what he was doing to Malfoy. Why Malfoy was biting his lower lip and sweat was gathering at his temples. Why wasn’t Malfoy saying anything? Why was Malfoy even down here with Greyback?

Surely Voldemort wouldn’t have stooped to this…

Malfoy moaned.

Harry stopped shaking and squinted. Greyback’s hand was moving faster and something in Malfoy’s closed eyes and parted lips and pained expression coalesced into one.

Oh, my God.

Greyback was snarling words under his breath, and Harry couldn’t make them out. He didn’t question why he was straining so hard to hear. All he could do, powerless to stop, was watch the sweat bead at Malfoy’s temples, his flushed cheeks—

“Do we still have an audience?” Greyback asked, loud enough for Harry to hear. He nuzzled his nose into Malfoy’s hair, and Malfoy flinched, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his skin.

Malfoy nodded.

“Speak, boy.” Greyback grinned at Harry over his shoulder. “I know you can speak.”

“Yes,” Malfoy croaked. “Potter keeps watching us.”

Malfoy still didn’t look away and Harry didn’t understand why Malfoy hadn’t demanded him to turn away.

Greyback backed away a bit, angling his body so Harry could see Malfoy’s robes rucked up to his hips, Malfoy's purple-red cock in full view, pre-come dripping from the slit.

Harry couldn’t believe it was happening, couldn’t believe his own cock was a mirror image of Malfoy’s own condition—hard and eager and pulsating with need. Harry hoped the shadow of the dungeon prevented Malfoy from seeing

Greyback began to fist Malfoy’s cock again-this time in full view.

“See,” Greyback drawled, “I told you he wanted you. The Wonder Boy, the Chosen One over there wants your filthy little boy cock.”

Malfoy’s hips canted into Greyback’s fist. His head dropped back to the stone wall but he didn’t let it rest there for long, didn’t look away from Harry for more than a few scant moments.

“Oh, he wants you, Malfoy. He’s rubbing his cock through his robes right now, he’s sweating.” Greyback sniffed the air. “His sweat smells like it should, like a boy. Maybe I’ll fuck him tonight instead.”

Harry was gasping for breath, rubbing his cock steadily over the bulge in his trousers. No, no, I shouldn’t be doing this. Malfoy was looking at him as if enraptured. Oh God, shouldn’t—but—fuck—

Greyback chuckled. “What will the Dark Lord think when he finds out Malfoy’s boy wants nothing more than to have Harry Potter fuck his tight little arse, hmm?”

The mental images that accompanied those words only fuelled the rising tension in the pit of Harry’s lower stomach. Malfoy’s face was pink and sweaty and his cock was three seconds away from exploding in Greyback’s disgusting fist, and Malfoy was thinking about him.

“I hate to inform you, Potter, but Malfoy, here, is no longer a virgin.”

His fist made a slap-slap-slap against Malfoy’s gleaming cock as he worked it hard: stroking it roughly, then stopping, then pulling at the foreskin. Tears streamed down Malfoy’s eyes, and Harry wanted to lick them away.

“Come, Malfoy. Potter over there wants you to, don’t you?”

Malfoy groaned and shot his load all over Greyback’s fist, his limbs quaking.

Yes, oh, yessss. Harry quickened his speed and came hard in his pants. The bars were cold and soothing against his throbbing scar. Harry’s existence was nothing but bliss for a few short minutes, his world blackened to nothing but pleasure and Malfoy’s wild eyes and hard cock.

When he opened his eyes again Greyback and Malfoy were gone.

He thought he could hear Greyback laughing from the stairs.

Harry fell to his knees beside Pettigrew’s dead body.

~fin