Original Chapter Written by Bittersweet Alias
refusal to give in: refusal to accept or comply with somethingResistance
A half a dozen Ministry officials had silently been replaced with the Dark Lord’s spies. Harry was pleased with this and insisted that while the Muggle Artefacts Department was lowly, a spy in that sector would mean they’d hear things that others would not. The more ignored you were, the more attention you could give others without being pinned as important – not to mention it was by the Auror’s floor.
Besides the Dark Lord’s plans, training, Quidditch practice, and school work Harry also had to combat Micah’s advances which would be aggressive some days and gentle others. Sometimes he sat and observed Harry and other times he argued and tried to touch only to be slapped in response.
Halloween was fast approaching, and the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was played the weekend before. Micah was the Captain and when they shook hands, Micah tightened his grip on Harry’s. Not in a painful way but in a dominant attempt at his attention.
Thirty-five minutes into the game, Harry and Micah’s teams were on par with one another. Cormac McLaggan was the Keeper. Ron had tried out, but he was so horrible that not even he could justify it.
“Hadrian,” Micah purred, pulling his broom up next to Harry who was watching his team.
“Hm?” Harry asked not taking his eyes off them.
“I never knew that was your real name.”
“Not even my friends knew,” he confessed, searching the skies as Katie made a goal.
“I’m surprised you didn’t put a Weasel on your team.” It wasn’t long after the Gryffindor made the goal that Blaise retaliated with his own while Adrian distracted McLaggan.
Harry sneered. “Those thieves?”
Micah arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Averting his attention from the field to Harry. The wind was blowing his black hair into his bright eyes. All of it was pulled back except for a few fly-aways. His earrings were clearly in view and Micah resisted leaning over to flick them. Harry certainly had an unconventional style. It fit him, though.
“They stole from me,” Harry murmured and Micah saw the sadness that swept through his eyes. “Over fifty thousand Galleons were taken out of my vaults. Why do you think I got blood adopted? Of course, they don‘t know I have any idea yet. They believe it‘s bad luck that I became adopted.” It didn’t hurt to tell Micah this much. He hated Gryffindors and considered Weasleys so below him that he wouldn’t speak to them with the exception of flirtations with Bill and the twins. Not that Bill counted as a Weasley, going dark and all. And the twins – well, they were the twins, a law unto themselves. “To stop their funding. Also, to stop the Marriage Contract from going through.” There were other reasons but Micah need not know those unless he gave himself away.
Micah froze at the words. “Marriage Contract?” He knew all about them. There were many times in which Micah had to destroy ones that his mother had attempted to draw up. His parents hated it that the Montague line could perhaps end with him.
Harry made a face and shot Micah a look. “I may turn down your advances, but I am gay. I don’t like girls.”
“Weaslette,” he said coolly. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.
“Exactly!” Harry flinched and looked to the left as he eyed gold out of the corner of his eye. “You lose, Romeo.” He shot off and before Micah could blink and realize his words, the boy’s fingers closed around a familiar gold winged Snitch.
Micah wasn’t angry, instead he couldn’t help but continue staring.
“Potter-Black catches the snitch for 150 extra points! 230-90! Gooo Gryffindor!” Lee Jordan was cut off after that, and Harry shook his head good naturedly as he sped down to the ground and landed only to be tackled by the twins.
“No groping, boys!” Harry taunted, feeling a hand on his arse and he whacked George in his sweaty head.
“Ahhh, no fair, Harry!” They groaned at the same time.
Harry was one of the last in the locker rooms. He banished his broom and flipped his locker open, paused, and then sighed. “Romeo,” he murmured. He had a feeling they’d be seeing each other again soon. Micah couldn’t pass up a chance like a locker room visit.
“I’m not even going to ask anymore,” Micah said resolved.
Harry quirked his lip and shook his head before stuffing his gloves and kneepads into the lockers. He braced himself for the initial contact and it came, Micah’s chest pressed into his back. The locker slammed shut by the Slytherin’s admission and pushed him against the locker. Harry’s heart raced and he sighed and waited, aware of a nose going into his neck and it took a lot to keep him from giggling at the touch. He didn‘t want to give Micah any ideas. “Are you some sort of wolf?” he inquired, enjoying the attention more than he wished he was.
Micah scowled. “I’m Pureblood, Hadrian.”
“Yes, but you act like one of my godfathers, who is a werewolf,” he hitched a breath when Micah’s hand touch his hip. Damn him! Harry thought, resisting a whimper. Why were his advances more potent than anyone else’s?
“My Uncle is a born wolf,” he confessed, bringing his fingers up to brush against Harry’s raven hair and pulled the tie out completely. He watched as all the hair rippled around Harry’s face.
Beautiful, he thought.
“I see,” Harry whispered.
“Lyncanthrope Virus was in my great grandfather. It’s a dormant gene. Since it was my mother, she did not carry it. Only the males did. So it skipped us.”
“There may be traces though? Which would be why your eyes are gold – my godfather’s are amber.”
“Perhaps.” Micah gathered up all that hair and shoved it to one side to see the star earring dangling. He grinned and flicked it like he’d been wanting too. “It’s not common knowledge.”
Harry flinched when he was touched and then jerked as Micah leaned in to kiss him. “No!” He placed his hand to Micah’s mouth, eyes wide, and before the Slytherin could get annoyed, Harry ran for it.
Micah didn’t get it. Harry’s resistance was driving him absolutely insane. He growled and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stepped into the common room. Harry may be a virgin but he was sure that he’d been kissed before so what was different from Micah kissing him? Why did he resist? Merlin, Micah thought that perhaps progress was made but obviously not. Every time Micah took a step forward, Harry took a step back. It was killing him.
“Hey, Micah, you look like you could use a hand…” A sixth year Slytherin boy purred sliding up and advancing.
Micah stilled when hands started to touch his chest. Gage Greengrass had been one of the regulars he had bedded over the last two years and usually the turn on would be absolute instant, but for some reason Micah found nothing appealing about Gage whose hands began to slide further down from his chest much to the amusement of the other Slytherins and curious gazes of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
“No,” he said suddenly and pushed the Slytherin away. “I’m in no mood.”
Gage’s cheeks burned. “No? Are you sure? Perhaps tonight?”
“I said no!” he hissed agitatedly. “Keep your hands to yourself, Gage.”
He went straight to his room for a shower, ignoring anyone along the way.
Harry, his mind couldn’t help but murmur. Hadrian …
“My Merlin, I have to hand it to that Slytherin,” Harry said sprawling across Bill’s desk, staring up at the ceiling.
Bill laughed and tugged on the boy’s silky black hair. “What’s he doing now?”
“Apparently, he has traces of wolf in him. I noticed it and his eyes give him away to those more observant. But damn! He really knows how to annoy me.”
“You like it,” Bill taunted.
Harry scowled. “Do not,” he lied, “he’s a bloody prick. He just wants a good fuck, that’s all.”
“Don’t we all, Harry darling?” the redhead retorted. “You’re leading him on a rather good chase, I give you that. I can just see his arousal from the Staff Table. He does nothing but glare at you.”
Harry stuck out his tongue. “Yeah, well, he’s going to have to do better than that.”
“Like slam you on your arse and own you?” Bill teased.
“Shut it!” Harry sulked. “That’s not true. I don’t need a man to dominate me.” He ignored the twitch in his crotch at the thought, however. He wanted to glare at it. Especially the thrilling chill.
Bill snorted. “Yeah right… I beg to differ.”
“He tried to kiss me.”
“What’s wrong with a kiss?” Bill asked.
Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what happens when it starts as a kiss – you know how it ends. The kiss is the beginning to everything – or the end to some.”
Chuckling, the oldest Weasley brother nodded. “That – you are right.”
“Ulgh,” Harry sat up and brought his legs underneath him. “When’s Fleur coming by?” He thought briefly on the Beauxbaton Champion and couldn’t help but smirk. Bill had met her the previous June when they were both working for Gringotts, but he hadn’t remained faithful for more than a month when he had seen Harry’s transformation.
“Next week,” Bill said, flipping through his papers.
“Alright, I’ll be out of sight and out of mind then.”
He smirked. “Much appreciated, if I’m caught screwing around, I’ll be in deep shit.”
“I know,” Harry said swinging his legs around and letting them dangle. “Besides, we’ve not done much.”
“But enough,” Bill hummed and raised his eyes. “Unless you want to do more…”
Harry laughed and kissed the man on the cheek. “Just wait for your Veela.”
Bill sulked. “You tease me, touch my cock, I suck yours, and yet you won’t let me have you,” he moaned. “You are incredible, Harry. A fucking tease if I ever knew one. I hope this Slytherin fucks you, and I hope he fucks you good.”
“Hey!” Harry crossed his arms. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am and I think you need it. I think, personally, you need a good cock up your arse.”
Harry flung off two dark hexes causing Bill to burst out laughing and hide behind his chairs. “You better be running, William Arthur Weasley, because I am so going to kick your arse for that.”
“You know you love me.” Bill drew up a marble shield as a blackish purple spell whizzed his way. “Whoa, ho! Watch it with those! Those aren’t for children.”
“I – can’t believe you said that!”
“It’s true though, Harry,” Bill insisted and blocked another curse heading at him. He laughed some more at the raven haired boy and rushed around him before grabbing him up by the waist and hoisting Harry up onto his shoulders.
“Bill!” Harry shrieked and smacked the man on the arse. “Let me down you big brute!”
“Nope, not with you flinging those hexes at me like they’re tickling curses.”
“You sound cute when you growl, did you know that?”
“Damn,” Bill said with a grin and then he pinched Harry on the butt, causing him to yelp and blush when it was slapped real hard.
“Molly and Arthur were married, thank you – at least I think they were.”
“Are you going to behave?” Bill taunted.
“Mhmm,” Harry mumbled.
“Argh, my head,” he said when he was put back onto his feet. He held onto the top of it. What a blood rush.
“Poor baby, go have that Slytherin kiss it better.”
“You really need to be kicked,” Harry hissed, heading for the door. Bill merely grinned at his back, the teen could feel it. How could he say that? Bill was supposed to be on his side, but obviously not. He jerked open the door and flashed the Weasley a look. “I am very ashamed of you right now.”
“Feel free to come back for some more advice!” Bill called when Harry stepped out in the corridor.
“Yeah, advice that you can shove up your arse!”
Harry found Luna waiting for him outside of the Prefects Common Room. He wrapped an arm around her and led her through.
“How’s the Dark Angel?” She asked conversationally.
“Pissed off at a flaming redhead!” Harry declared. He avoided looking in the Slytherin’s direction. The two collapsed together on a loveseat.
“Ah, the Desert Monkey.”
Harry laughed. “Desert Monkey, good name.”
“Well, it’s better than the Lice Winding.”
“Hm, what about the Wacklespurt?” he asked, getting queer looks all around.
“The Wacklespurt is confused right now. It doesn’t know what to do. Torn between the Lice Windings and Dark Angel.”
“The Lice Winding is a lying stealing son of a bitch who needs to be castrated. The Dark Angel, I’m sure, would volunteer.”
Luna grinned and those who heard them simply stared.
“Who the fuck is a Lice – whatever?” Blaise Zabini asked out of nowhere.
“A Lice Winding is a rare lice bug. They’re nasty little things that infest people’s hair. It’s always a good idea to have a Desert Monkey look through your hair a couple times a week…”
“Ulgh, Luna!” Harry groused and covered his hands over his face. “Not you too!”
“The Desert Monkey knows best.”
“He knows how to get kicked.”
Luna’s grin never wavered as she kissed his cheek and then winked before leaving him alone to stew in his own problems.
He walked away, bitching about Lice, Desert Monkeys, and where they can stick their noses…
To everyone it was hogwash, people began to laugh and then make fun. Even Draco, calling Harry a pretty boy whore with the brains the size of a Knut. But Micah had a feeling that Lovegood’s conversation with Harry was more code than anything else. It also irked him that Draco opened his mouth like that. He had to resist hexing him.
The Dark Angel would be Harry without a doubt. A Lice Winding? The Weasley boy? That sounded about right, an infestation of sorts. A Desert Monkey? Who the fuck was a Desert Monkey? He mentioned something about a flaming redhead… that pansy arse Defense Teacher? Micah growled inwardly. He was the Desert Monkey? So Harry was with him this entire time. What were they doing?! So many damn questions and so many puzzles. The last question was, who the hell was a Wacklespurt?
The door opened and the Mudblood came in. Ah, she was the Wacklespurt.
Micah couldn’t believe he deciphered that conversation. He felt sick… revolted… he needed to take his mind off this lest he go insane himself.
Harry huffed and lay down with his back to the door, his hair sprayed over the books he’d been trying to cover for weeks now. He had his legs straight out and ankles crossed. He was staring at the vaulted ceiling with a vague expression of exhaustion. It was Halloween and things were silently unfolding around everyone. Only a select few knew this and it was only a matter of time. He thought about many things and closed his eyes, allowing his body to sink further into a semi-trance state.
The first thing he thought about was the role he was playing in this entire charade of life. The second was how everyone would respond when they saw that Harry Potter was not exactly the sweet golden boy everyone expected him to be. He would never be their saviour, he would not vanquish Lord Voldemort, and he certainly wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that dark man’s chance at overpowering Dumbledore and the entire side of the Light.
Those bastards had made their bed when they decided to use him, send him to abusive Muggles, and attempt to control him from the inside out.
Lord Voldemort had been his saviour, his hero. The one who took him from those disgraceful low-life filth called Muggles and did exactly what no one else would do for him.
Another thing, Azkaban. He was a little nervous about it but determined. He and Voldemort had been working on the plans all summer to get the ones that were needed out.
“Perfect,” Micah’s voice purred and a shadow fell over him causing the teen’s eyes to snap open and sigh when he was straddled.
Harry should have known that the three day absence from the Slytherin’s presence wouldn’t last. It was too good to be true. “Romeo.” He ignored the rippling of his skin when Micah pushed the books out of the way and placed his hands on either side of Harry’s head.
“Hadrian,” Micah enunciated in a long drawl.
Their eyes locked, gold on green. Harry stuck out his tongue childishly. But he said nothing more, and instead simply stared at the Slytherin, waiting to see what he would do. He was unpredictable.
“No pushing me off?”
“Finally giving in?” Micah asked grinning, and Harry could see the spark of hope in his eyes.
“No,” he answered in earnest.
“Why can’t I kiss you? You’ve kissed before, haven’t you?” Micah asked curiously.
“Of course I have,” Harry replied indignantly.
“Kissing gets stuff started. Things that I don’t want started. A kiss would signal an invitation.”
“You’re afraid you’ll like it, aren’t you?” Micah teased and dipped his head down into Harry’s neck and nibbled across the sweet pale skin.
Harry gasped at the nip, his eyes rolled with slight desire and he tilted his head to the side unconsciously giving the invitation he didn’t want to give out. Micah nibbled down onto the silver loop earring. “I’m-” Harry shivered when a wet tongue flicked across his lobe until it was nibbling the very top getting a fortuitous whimper from his lips. “Not scared of liking it…” he managed to get out, feeling like an idiot.
Micah’s body pressed up against his, the Slytherin’s mouth teasing and lolling his tongue around sensitive areas, bringing the arousal and heat to flood Harry’s body and face.
“What is it then?” he asked into Harry’s ear.
He didn’t have an immediate answer. His breathing continued to hitch when Micah’s erection ground against him and he moaned out at the exact same time Micah took the advantage and crushed their lips together in a desperate force.
That bastard! Harry groused inwardly. But damn, he tasted good. Giving in, Harry’s lips worked with Micah instead of against him, drawing their tongues out together in a thrusting battle of arousing need. He gripped the back of Micah’s hair.
Harry nibbled his bottom lip and swiped his tongue along the top, sending Micah’s body into a sexual overdrive.
Merlin, was Harry a tease? Micah clenched Harry’s slender body, bringing him up flush against his chest and snarled underneath their kiss. A raging fire had been started and he just knew what Harry was going to do in the next few minutes. A call inside of him demanded that he claim and make Harry give in.
Claim. The word taunted him, trying to make him acknowledge that this was more than just a game, a hunt, the taking of a pretty toy.
The blood inside of Micah boiled at the innocent sighs escaping the small boy underneath him. Small, gorgeous boy, to be exact. Micah wanted to make him scream out his name, beg him to do more. And he never wanted those pouty lips to ever call for another.
Fucking Hell! Hands came up and pushed gently at his chest. “Mmm…” Harry whimpered. He knew it, a distinct rumble from his throat signaled the Slytherin’s disdain for being stopped.
“Damn you!” Micah growled and bit Harry sharply on those sweet teasing lips.
Harry squeaked in pain when the Slytherin bit and struggled against him. “I – told you…” He gasped out and sucked in his bottom lip to keep it from being abused anymore. Micah glared down at him. “I told you that a kiss would lead to other expectations!” He said wide eyed.
Micah sneered and let go of Harry. He slid off the Gryffindor and continued to glare.
Harry sat up, feeling a little dazed and uncomfortable with the stare he received. He shifted his legs until they were tucked underneath him and he looked away from Micah. He hid his arousal from the Slytherin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let the kiss get that far,” he said, reaching for one of his books scattered in a lazy pile.
“Unbelievable,” Micah scowled as he swiftly got to his feet. He was sexually frustrated and a little angry.
“Just give up,” Harry whispered, turning away completely.
“Fucking tease,” Micah hissed dropping down into one of the chairs. His glare never receding.
“Book by your foot please?” he asked almost meekly. He usually didn’t like to show such weakness, but he actually felt bad and he couldn’t help it.
Micah stared down at it and kicked it forward.
“What are you doing anyway? Every time I see you, you’re studying something. I know it’s not OWLs.”
Harry smiled gently. “No, Romeo, it isn’t OWLs.” What could it hurt? He picked up one of the books and handed it to Micah, who took it with a heavy sigh.
His arousal was gone and replaced by disappointment.
Depths of the Arts was the book he was given.
“What’s this for?” He thumbed through it and stopped on the Index when he saw that it was in fact a Dark Arts book. Surprise flickered across his face. What would Harry have a book like this for?
“A little light reading.”
“Light reading?” Micah asked dubiously.
“My godfather gave it to me. He’s a Black; I was given his entire library.”
Micah paused, knowing very well what a Black would have in their library. “What do you expect to do with this? Defeat You Know Who?” he sneered, snapping it closed.
Harry grinned sweetly. “Whoever said anything about him, Romeo?” he asked dismissively. He didn’t want Micah to get any ideas and he especially didn’t want the Slytherin to know that he had any ties to Voldemort. Not yet. It was way too soon for that. “Voldemort isn’t the only person who could do me harm,” he said off handedly and took the book back. “My Magic is stronger than most; my body is not.”
Micah inclined his head, agreeing with that. “You are rather frail.”
Harry poked his tongue out and Micah had the urge to bite it. Gently. In fact, Micah had the urge to bite a lot of things on this small fragile boy. Gods, the tease was obviously playing with his mind.
“Is this where you go every other night?” Micah queried.
Harry smiled. “Mhmm,” he hummed, “so now you know why I didn’t answer you.”
“Does Dumbledore know of this?”
Shaking his head, “He has not a clue,” he answered softly.
This surprised Micah. “I see.”
Harry would have to get off this subject. It was running way too close to other topics that he could not discuss.
Micah became quiet and continued to watch Harry throughout the night until the fifteen-year-old kicked him out of the room.
Harry was left with a sigh. Micah was persistent and he hated to admit that he rather liked it. Micah never gave up and Harry’s strong resolve was very slowly beginning to cave.
The resistance was wavering and he really couldn’t afford that at this stage of the game. He huffed and went for a shower.
He had a lot of things on his mind. Things that had little to do with a hormonal Slytherin.