Chapter Two
Original Author: Bittersweet Alias
Something enjoyable to use: a belonging that gives the owner pleasure to use
Toy
The new common room was a rather impressive mix of house colours. There were two roaring fires and the walls had emblems, portraits, and mascots that represented each. Harry’s room was basic Gryffindor colours with a queen size bed plopped down in the middle. A walk in wardrobe and three bay windows with burgundy overstuffed chairs sitting along the rows. There was a wall of books on both sides and to Harry greatest pleasure no human portraits.
Harry thought they were rather creepy. However, he wasn’t one for house pride and twirled his wand in the air. In no time at all, the colour began to dissolve and replaced itself with a dark amethyst on crisp white.
“Better,” he whispered pleased. He did a search of his room; checking for listening charms and other such spells and was relieved to discover only an automatic, Warming/Cooling Charm depending on the weather outside.
The other exit that led toward the Gryffindor Common Room was completely deserted and he could see the Fat Lady from where he stood. His door was a picture of a ticking clock and inside of his folder told him to turn the hands to twelve and they would open and every other week it would go back an hour.
He could see the grounds from his windows and pressed his knees against the armchair and draped his arms over the back arching up to peer out into the dusky night. The shadows played and danced across the top of the forest and he smiled at how carefree they seemed. He wished he could be that carefree. But, alas, Professor Dumbledore would never allow his puppet, pawn, weapon, or whatever-he-was to be free.
Oh, no, no, no. Harry Potter was always needed. The world just couldn’t survive without him.
He twitched at his thoughts, willing them away.
Pushing off the chair, his eyes narrowed and he spun around with his wand directly toward his intruder and scowled when he saw the Head Boy leaning against his door. Of course, Micah would be lurking about wanting to know more than he should.
“Took you long enough to notice me,” he said silkily.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Harry asked the Slytherin, slowly lowering his wand and turning back to the windows.
“Checking on the new Prefects, of course. What else would I be doing?”
Harry glanced back over his shoulder and rolled his eyes effectively. “Puh-lease, Micah Montague. You’re here for a reason. You don’t waste your time.”
“True,” Micah said, “I hate wasting my time and I have a reason for everything.”
“You’re going to tell me that reason or I’m going to curse your arse out of this room,” Harry said good-naturedly.
“Really think you’d curse the Head Boy? Why, you’d get your Prefect Badge revoked.” He came closer until he was standing directly in front of Harry. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Micah whispered with a sly grin.
Harry took a step back, but Micah came forward. Okay, this predator and prey thing was going to end. “Freeze, Romeo!” He held up his hand and the older teen’s chest pressed up against it.
“Who?” Micah asked, losing his intimidating air for a split second.
Harry cast him a smile and shook his head. “You won’t revoke my badge, for several reasons. One, Dumbledore would never take his golden boy’s badge away… and two, you are just dying to fuck me, and if I’m back in Gryffindor there’s no chance of that. Not that there is in the first place,” he added the last bit rather hastily when he saw the seventh year’s eyes light up. “Get!” He shoved him toward the door. Micah was too stunned with Harry‘s answers to fight back. “Out – of – my – room!” He flicked his wand and the doors swung open.
Micah finally found his composure. “Why, Potter, you just gave me a challenge.”
“Potter-Black,” he quickly corrected, scowling. “Now fuck off!”
“Oh, believe me, Hadrian, I will,” he purred and allowed himself to be pushed the rest of the way out of the room and the door slammed within an inch of his nose.
“Horny git!” Harry mumbled half-heartedly. He shook his head and locked his door before deciding to go for a shower and get to bed.
Micah glared at the door. Potter was a rather snobby little bitch, he thought to himself. Though he was right, Micah wouldn’t revoke the badge – not that he could. Dumbledore would have a conniption fit. Damn the toy had a little Slytherin in him, and the prospect of fucking him would become that much harder. He’d like to keep Potter in a bed – to enjoy it on top of a desk in an abandoned classroom just wouldn’t do that arse his future toy had any good at all.
He felt that he was being watched and shot a glare at the curly brown headed Mudblood. “What are you staring at?”
She straightened and stared right back into his eyes. “I should ask you the same thing.”
“None of your damn business.”
“If it’s about Harry, it is.”
Micah didn’t say anything more. The filth got enough from him, more than he usually allowed. He headed down the winding halls to his bedroom which was a little bigger than the custom-made Prefect rooms.
He paused and looked over his shoulder at Draco and thought briefly about making the blond come to him so that he could take out his frustrations, but at the last second discarded the idea.
That would be losing, and Micah didn’t lose.
Harry awoke at the first rays of agitating sun. The alarm clock by the bed sounded, causing him to groan and bury his face as far into the pillow as possible. He didn’t want to wake up. Not at all. But as he lay there he knew that he must rise and so with those thoughts he rolled over and out of the bed.
He made quick work of his morning routine and shoved his hair back in a low ponytail with some stray pieces and his bangs left out. He then headed out of the room only to see Hermione waiting by the door. She had her head bowed and a sad look on her face.
Harry paused for a moment and took in her expression. He quirked an eyebrow. She had dug her own grave. What was he to do about it? Apologize for her doing the digging with her hands and getting her nails all dirty?
He briefly wondered how dirty she actually felt. She was always a self-righteous person and to steal was absolutely out of character. But whatever her reasons whether Dumbledore made her take it or not didn’t matter.
Harry never would have thought Hermione would condone stealing. That just didn’t seem like her.
“You really disappointed me,” he said quietly aware of his sexual harasser close by.
The tears swelled in her brown eyes. “Wh-what?”
“I thought you of all people would understand that stealing is a crime. Ron Weasley I can see – he’s a pathetic little fool – but you…” He shook his head. “Weren’t you supposed to be the intelligent one?” His words hung in the air and Hermione looked about to faint as she took them in. “Obviously, anything ‘For The Greater Good,’ eh?” He walked off after that, leaving her sobbing in front of his bedroom door.
All morning long, Harry endured stares and cat-calls from both genders. Even his own house whistled at him and made the occasional lewd remark that caused the teen to blush and duck his head. Seamus came over at lunch time and plopped down. “Hi, gorgeous, haven’t seen you in a while,” the Irish boy teased with a grin. “Looks like you grew up.”
“Yes, Seamus, I grew up. What about you?”
Seamus smirked. “Want to find out?”
“Not on your life,” Harry said sweetly and got up to change his books.
“Aw! Come on, Harry!” the Gryffindor whined at his back. It was loud enough for the whole room to hear. Harry didn’t look back and instead rolled his eyes while leaving the Great Hall.
“Hi Harry!” Cho chirped when he came through the prefect common area.
“Uhm, hi, Cho.” He didn’t stop for her and went straight to his own room for his new books. He paused on the second book that he shoved in his bag and glowered silently at it. “What are you doing here?” he hissed not turning around.
“Came to see you.” Micah wanted to know what happened this morning, and why Harry was glaring at his Mudblood friend and condemning her for stealing.
“A Slytherin coming to see the Boy-Who-Lived?” he asked incredulously. “Please just give it up, Micah. Go fuck Malfoy, and leave me alone.”
“Had him, don’t like him,” Micah commented making Harry grimace.
“Disgusting,” he said scrunching his nose. “Look, if you came here to try and bed me, save your useful time and go away.”
“You challenged me, Potter-Black,” he said, remembering Harry’s previous directive. “I can’t go away.” Micah had come up behind Harry now and leaned in. They weren’t touching but they were close enough.
Harry stiffened dramatically and flinched when Micah barely touched his nose to his black hair. “I did not challenge you…” He ignored the odd sensation of having a guy so mysteriously close. “I simply – don’t want you – shit – stop – no!” Micah tried to touch his hips but Harry jumped quickly onto the bed and away from the seventh year.
“Scared, Potter-Black?” Micah asked with a grin. “You look very good on that bed. You like purple?” He commented running his fingers across the fabric.
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he crouched and slunk back. “Having someone I don’t know touch me doesn’t make me scared. It annoys me,” he snapped smoothly. His heart was beating furiously. He jumped down on the other side. “Go find someone to be your Juliet for a night. Not me.”
“Who?” Micah asked when Harry yanked his bag and rushed out of the room. “Bloody hell, who the fuck is Juliet?”
My Merlin! Slytherins were persistent. Harry shook his head and headed toward Herbology. Neville beamed. “Hi ya, Harry! How are you?”
“I’ve never been more sexually harassed in my life!” He scowled in rant.
Neville tried not to laugh at his friend, whose green eyes were wide in horror. “Poor you! I’m sorry,” he wrapped his arm around Harry who moaned against him.
They entered the greenhouses and took their spots. Justin Finch-Fletchley came over and beamed. “Hi, Harry! How are you?”
“I’m alright, Justin,” he responded, trying not to be exasperated. “How about you?”
“Perfect, so uh, what happened to you?”
“Blood adoption.”
“Oh, okay, nice.”
Harry smiled dryly at him. “Thanks, I think.”
The last class of the day was Defense. When it was over, Harry walked out with his friends only to walk back through ten minutes later. “William Weasley!” He grinned and threw his bag down.
Bill was sitting slouched in his chair with his legs propped up and straight on the desk.
“Hello, Harry, how are you?” He asked matching Harry’s grin.
The teen cocked his head to the side. “I’ve been better,” he said and with very little effort he mounted Bill, sitting perfectly on his thighs and placed his hands on each side of the chair. Bill was a dark supporter. His reasons were unknown, but Harry didn’t think he would lie about something like that and he knew it had nothing to do with blood purity. There was another reason for it.
“Oh? Pray tell, little one,” Bill said, eyes shining.
“I have an annoying Slytherin wanting to fuck me.”
Bill burst out laughing. “I’m not surprised.”
Harry scowled and crossed his arms.
“Why don’t you play with him, Harry? Like you did me.”
Harry pinked slightly in the cheeks. “But I like you! I don’t like him.”
Snickering, Bill quirked an eyebrow. “Tis all the same, little one. Fleur would be rather angry if she knew you were sitting on my lap.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “And you?” He asked pushing up a little closer until their faces were only inches apart.
“I can care less,” Bill breathed and took Harry’s lips into his mouth in a soft meticulous kiss.
“Bad, bad, William,” Harry purred nibbling his bottom lip.
“So I am… not like you’ll let me fuck you,” he grumbled. “It would be worth it.”
Harry snickered but said nothing to that and instead licked Bill’s chin to his lips. “I better go before someone catches us. Your door is wide open.”
“So it is,” Bill said carelessly.
For days, Harry dodged every female and male attempt at conversation. Seamus’s innuendoes, Ron’s suspicious looks, and most of all Micah Montague, who suddenly decided that he would have Harry at all costs.
Thus, the first week of school went by and sexual harassment was something that wizards forgot to put in the rulebook.
Hermione was quiet and reclusive having told no one about Harry knowing the truth. He would guess she was too ashamed of herself. Neville and Luna seemed to have taken a center stage with him and the note passing between him and Severus was always discreet. Harry purposely botched his potions so that he and Severus could fight it out and Harry earned a detention for the training he needed to continue.
If Harry wasn’t at Quidditch Practice then he was in his room studying over books and books that did not pertain to school. By the second week the teen wondered if he had some sort of fucking radar on his head. Not only did a dozen people come up to him asking him out, ones he didn’t know, but Seamus wouldn’t stop trying to grope him every time Harry stood next to him in class.
It was astonishingly annoying.
Finally finding time to his self, he plopped down in the middle of his floor and spread the books around him and began to study. He was wearing soft blue pyjama bottoms and a thin white t-shirt. His hair was down out of its tie and Harry decided to remain in the rooms for the rest of the weekend.
That was until the door opened and Micah waltzed through. How the hell did he get past his double lock? The Slytherin sent a smirk and stepped gracefully over his books, taking a seat in one of the three dark purple armchairs.
Harry paused in one of his books, and arched an eyebrow up at Micah. “You want something?”
“Yes, but you’re being a persistent little thing.”
Shaking his head, Harry proceeded to ignore him after that and went about his studying as best as he could. “You’re wasting your time.”
“I doubt it.”
For days this was what Micah did. He sat in Harry’s room. Sometimes he would read or do his homework, but he really liked to watch the Gryffindor Prefect.
It drove the fifteen-year-old nuts for a while, but then he learned to ignore it. Throwing him out was pointless. He’d done it the first two times, only to have the idiot come back!
Every time Micah got close, Harry would shove him away. “Back off, Romeo!” he said on the sixth night.
“Who is Romeo?” Micah groaned, falling backwards on his backside and glaring at Harry. He had finally moved from the chair every day to the floor in an attempt to get closer to Harry, only to be shoved away. Merlin, what did he have to do to get his toy? Micah complained inwardly.
Harry laughed quietly and flashed him a grin. “Purebloods,” he drawled in much the same way Malfoy would say Mudblood.
Micah scowled. “Proud of it, half-blood.”
Harry snapped his eyes on Micah. “That is no way to get me in bed.”
“Not like anything else is working!” he growled in frustration.
“Why would it?” Harry demanded. “I don’t even know you. I’m not jumping in bed with some fucking stranger!”
“Why the fuck not?” Micah asked. “We do it all the time!”
“We don’t do anything all the time,” Harry hissed harshly.
Micah tilted his head. “You’re a virgin.”
“No shit!” he declared. “I’m fifteen.”
“I was thirteen.”
“Good for you,” Harry said darkly. “For one, even if I considered it – which I am most definitely not – but the fact is I don’t feel like being the ‘whore talk’ of your fucked up friends, and another, I do not trust you to not hurt me,” he said baldly.
Micah stared owlishly at him for several long moments and watched Harry pick through some of his papers. He had little idea what they were on. They seemed to be defensive strategies. What for he wasn’t sure, nor did he at that moment care. What he cared about was Harry eluding him and his words. He didn’t like the way he came off and it really irritated him.
“For your information, Potter-Black, no one knows I’m here,” he began coldly. “What I do with you in my bed is my business and my business only.” Harry glared at him for even thinking of such. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m experienced, Potter-Black, not a fucking dim-wit. I’m not going to rape you.”
“You just want to fuck me?”
“Exactly!”
“No!”
“Damn you,” Micah growled.
“Just give up,” Harry said tiredly. “No one is going to bed me.” He stood and gathered a couple of his books while peering over at the Slytherin’s agitated face. “Our Defense teacher tried and failed.” Micah stilled when he said this. “The twins tried and failed… and you, too, are going to fail, and I knew them for years. I trust them tons more than I ever would you. So, find someone willing and worth it, Micah.”
Micah left shortly after that, and Harry breathed deep before collapsing onto the bed. He couldn’t handle anymore of that pressure. He moaned and rolled over into his bed toward the lights, extinguishing them. Micah was gorgeous and Harry didn’t really mind his personality when he wasn’t trying to bed him, but he refused to fall into that.
Micah was heavily annoyed the next morning. Not only was he turned on more than he had ever been in his life, but that little minx was just terrorizing him with those bloody muggle clothes. He glared harshly at the boy in skin tight leather trousers that sat across his hip-bone. He had a loose dark blue tunic that was tucked in and his hair was out of its usual tie.
The little toy was doing it to tease him. He tried to reason with Potter-Black, tried to tell him he wouldn’t open his mouth, and he even attempted to assuage his fears of being hurt. But no, the damn brat wouldn’t listen and instead made him leave the room. He’d been stunned last night with the proclamation. So that teacher tried fucking Potter-Black and got nowhere? The twins?
Stupid Weasleys, he thought darkly.
This just made the chase more challenging for Micah and hard… literally. Potter-Black left the room but he didn’t return until almost nightfall. He didn’t show up for any dinner and he looked exhausted when Micah caught a glimpse of him.
Bidding Blaise and Adrian goodnight, he slammed his book shut and pretended to go to his room, only to unlock the boy’s door and slide inside.
“Hello, Romeo,” Harry muttered with his back turned.
Micah rolled his eyes at the name. “Where were you?”
Harry laughed. “None of your business.”
Scowling, Micah threw his book to the side. How dare he? “I don’t like being mocked,” he growled, stepping up in front of him.
“I don’t like nosy men!” Harry shot, turning around and glaring sharply at the Slytherin.
“Who were you with?”
Harry didn’t answer and instead eyed him coolly.
What was it with this toy not cooperating? Micah had never been so frustrated. He placed his hands on either side of Harry, not exactly touching but close enough so that he could smell sweat mingled with something else. “You smell – like sweat.” Micah’s senses were perfectly clear. Again, Harry didn’t respond. “Dammit! Answer me, Hadrian!” he commanded.
“No,” Harry said softly and nudged Micah’s hand away so that he could move but the older teen wouldn’t have it. He didn’t move.
“I’m not letting you go until you tell me where you were and who you were with!”
“Fuck you!” he spat. “I – don’t have to tell you shit. You don’t own me!”
Micah grinned wolfishly. “No, but I’m going too. I’m going to own your arse, I’m going to shove my dick up your tight little hole, and you’re going to love it!” he snarled viciously.
Crack!
Micah’s face suddenly snapped to the side and he blinked as black spots appeared before his eyes. His cheek burned, and he was sure that an angry red handprint had found its way to his cheek. “You’re a little feisty, aren’t you?” he asked, finding something strangely hot about this.
“I – don’t – want – you!” Harry hissed desperately. “Can’t you see that? Just leave me alone!” He pushed on Micah to go away, but this only made the brunet rumble lowly and bury his face into the boy’s hair as his meager body pressed against his chest.
“Keep trying, baby,” Micah whispered roughly. He curled his hand around Harry’s thin waist causing the teen to freeze and gasp. “The more you push, the more I’m going to pull…”
Harry clenched his teeth resisting the assaulting shivers that plagued him. Alarms set off all around his head. “Danger,” it screamed as he flinched and decided that getting out from under Micah was a must. His heart was thudding into his chest, he resisted the strange delight he got from the hand that touched him, and the words spoken into his ear. It was like Micah was some kind of wolf. But that was impossible; only Remus had ever gone to Hogwarts as a werewolf.
It was odd and Harry really needed to get away from him. He bounced up onto the bed and with quick reflexes he went straight to the bathroom and bolted it shut.
Laughter filtered through the shut door. “You liked that, Hadrian, didn’t you, little one?” It got quiet and then, “You will tell me where you were. It’s a simple question.”
Harry was very tempted to get a hold of Tom and let him know what his little follower was doing and how he was acting, but then he shook his head. He could fight his own battle! He didn’t need Tom to kill everyone and he didn’t need his cover blown.
Not so early on in the game.
No, he had to keep this as covert as he possibly could. It’d only been three weeks! Harry could deal with this. He could handle an annoying Slytherin trying to steal his virginity.
Yeah, he could. He knew he could.
Shaking his head once more, Harry flipped on the showers and stripped out of his clothes. He was mildly afraid of Micah coming through those doors and picked up his wand. If he did, Harry swore he’d use an instant stunner, head cracking be damned.
Why couldn’t Potter-Black listen to reason? Micah growled the next morning at breakfast. He doused his coffee with a ton of cream and practically drank the scorching contents down. He glared over at the Gryffindor Table when he saw that lunatic blonde looping her hand through Potter’s arm. Where the fuck had he been? It was all he wanted to know. He needed to know where his toy had been.
He thought about reasoning with Potter-Black, if he could have him just once – then Micah would never touch him again. But then he scrapped that idea. What if he wanted him again? Micah wouldn’t chance letting a good toy pass him by. He loved toys and Potter-Black would be a fine collectible.
A very annoying and resistant collectible – but that’s what made them more valuable, right?
When Potter-Black looked his way, he received a glare and Micah offered him a smirk. Potter-Black rolled his eyes before leaving the hall completely.
Delicate little toy, who packed a punch, he mused, touching his cheek in memory.
Excentryke's Musings 