this is not happy at all, i'm afraid. i was completely plotless until about three hours ago, when five different bunnies hit me all at once. this was the only one i could manage to get out how i liked it, and i have to warn you: it's not easy. it's weird, and it's written in a somewhat experimental style. it also contains argus filch in very embarassing way.
although, true to form, it does showcase a bit of my tie kink. :9
a little over 500 words.
r for sex & oddness factor.
And so. Here he his. There’s something about the way Harry’s fingertips curl into the flaps on the underside of Zacharias’ tie. There’s something familiar in the act, a moment's hesitation, exactly the same as when those fingers are curling into another hidden treasure, found lower on the body but just as soft, if not more so, than the tie itself.
Green, green eyes fall over to clear, clear windows, and Harry notes how stupid, stupid it is of them to be doing this in the Hufflepuff dormitories with the door unlocked and bedcurtains drawn back. But hush, hush you prat, Zacharias comforts. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend and Hufflepuffs are instinctively drawn to candy. They’ll be alone for hours more.
Technically, oh fuck it, when has there ever been room for technicalities where sex is involved? This is Harry’s humble opinion. Zacharias appears to think otherwise. As Zacharias is fucking him, as a small, Knut-sized sliver of wood falls off of the headboard, as Harry’s fingers leave Zacharias’ cock and fall onto his own lips in a nervous gesture, he tells Harry of his “troubles” with the Ministry. He tells Harry how he really doesn’t mind Fudge at all. He tells Harry how he’d like to see them cut down on the lesser jobs and put the money where it belongs: in his pocket. He tells Harry how he wouldn’t mind a new Headmaster, even though it has nothing to do with the Ministry. Harry tries not to cum so quickly as retribution for that statement alone. He can’t imagine a Hogwarts without a Dumbledore, and so Zacharias pulls himself away (and in doing so pushes Harry further into the flat mattress) and stomps as best he can on unsure feet into the bathroom.
There are shivers skittering down Harry’s spine and Ravenclaws swimming behind his eyelids. Whoever said you never forget your first kiss was unfortunately right, and combined with Harry’s worry-worn mind and occasionally psychotic tendencies, it only seems natural that he’d see synchronized swimming Orientals every time he breaks (and it’s not an orgasm for him, it’s a breaking point—he has to give in). It makes sense, right? Sure. Absolutely. Why the hell not?
The taps in the Hufflepuff dormitories are all squeaky, and Harry can hear Zacharias trying to get a shower started. He doesn’t think one of the creaks is the door opening, and therefore does not see the glowing, cat eyes blink at the Gryffindor boy lying naked and flushed, cum pooled on very stained sheets and someone else’s sperm on his chest, in the bed of a Hufflepuff boy.
And so. Here he is. His fingers are curling underneath Zacharias’ tie in Filch’s office in a reenactment of a Hogsmeade weekend. The battle between Filch telling Snape, Dumbledore, Draco, and anyone else who would listen, or reenacting the fuck on the cold, wet floor was, in a word, epic. Neither choice was wanted, but in the end their shame won out. Better to embarrass in front of one than many, Zacharias would repeat throughout. Harry would keep his fingers to his lips and his green, green eyes shut, shut, shut.
spectacular's next five keywords: someone must be playing the piano the entire time, a joke(s) about weight, money, someone must be shirtless, and a camel