Title: Any Means

Author: DangerMouse

mail: dangermouse42@yahoo.com

Summary: Draco gets caught out of bed for the third time in two weeks and will use any means to make sure he's not expelled.

Pairing: Draco/Filch

Rating: NC-17

Distribution: If you want it, you can have it. Just let me know where it's going.

Feedback: Sure.

Disclaimer: The characters are happy they belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers and not to me.

"Or perhaps in Slytherin
"You'll make your real friends,
"Those cunning folk use any means
"To achieve their ends."
- The Sorting Hat's Song

Draco hummed to himself, probably too loudly, in the empty corridor as he moved along the hall back towards the Slytherin dungeons. The drugs in his system, left over from a fantastic rave in Hogsmeade, coursed through his veins, making him fell light-headed and careless. The blond boy barely noticed when he lost his balance and slammed into a wall, painfully crushing his shoulder. Tomorrow, it would be just another bruise he that he couldn't recall doing anything to receive, something to look at in the morning light and shrug off. It was a necessary evil, Draco dully rationalized, part of the price one paid to forget, at least for a little while, about abusively angry fathers and sick-minded megalomaniacs with giant chips on their shoulders. Draco giggled to himself for no good reason and continued on his not-quite-straight path back to his bed.

"Well, well, well," came a scratchy voice behind him. "Little boys shouldn't be out of their beds this late."

Draco turned around somewhat unsteadily, seeing Filch standing behind him, looking for all the world like the cat that swallowed the canary, a lantern held up high in his hands. Draco casually cast his eyes about for Mrs. Norris, but didn't see her.

"I'm not little," Draco said as evenly as possible. "Just short."

"You're still out of bed, boy," came the growled reply. "And what are you wearing?"

Draco looked down at himself as the older man blatantly raked his eyes up and down his body. His tight green shirt clung in all the right places, smelling vaguely of pot smoke and other, less pleasant, things. The skin-tight leather pants he only took out for special occasions were still flawless, with the small exception of a white, flaking stain left over from short episode in a bathroom at the rave with some older boy whose face Draco couldn't remember.

The Slytherin part of Draco's mind was frantically casting about for a way out of this situation. It shouted at him that he couldn't be caught out of bed three times in two weeks, especially since Professor Snape had disappeared - on Sabbatical or some other useless euphemism Dumbledore told them to cover the fact that he was out spying for the side of the Light. There was no one to protect him now and, since it was obvious he had been off of Hogwarts grounds, there was a good chance he could be expelled. Draco looked critically at Filch, seeing the hardened, hideous man gazing at him with hungry eyes, and the Slytherin in him suddenly had a positively wicked, yet simple, solution.

"Why?" Draco asked, referring to his clothing. "Do you like it?" He ran his hands seductively across his chest, letting his left hand continue south, hooking his thumb over the waistband of his leather pants, his fingers pointing downwards.

Filch raised an eyebrow, perhaps a little surprised by Draco's reaction. "I should take you to Dumbledore," he hissed. "Three offences in less than two weeks."

"You probably should," Draco agreed, taking slow, purposeful steps towards the caretaker. "But maybe we could work something out?" Draco lifted his left hand, placing it on the chest of the older man, smirking a little as he felt the muscles twitch below his fingers. He looked up, widening his eyes and opening his mouth a little in that oh-so-tempting pout that he'd learned years before was a wonderful tool in getting what he wanted. Filch let out a deep, shuddering sigh and Draco could feel the lust coming off of him in waves.

"Maybe we can," he said gruffly, reaching a hand around to Draco's back, sliding his fingers along the soft material of the boy's shirt, trailing it down to rest of the firm ass encased in the most-likely illegal dragon hide. Draco let out a perfectly timed little gasp and pressed his body close to the caretaker's, feeling the older man's erection through his worn cloth slacks. Filch groaned and stepped back, grabbing Draco's upper arm.

"Let's go," he said harshly, dragging the boy along behind him through a maze of secret corridors and walkways, away from the hallways frequented by people, ghosts, and poltergeists. Draco found himself led into an old, dusty storage room, it's contents long
forgotten. Filch softly closed to door to the room and rested his lantern on a pile of cobwebby boxes before turning back to Draco. The older man crossed to the room to where Draco was standing in three easy steps and grabbed a handful of silky platinum-colored hair.

"Now you listen to me," he growled, giving Draco's hair a firm tug that brought tears to the boy's eyes. "You're doing this to get to go free, so you belong to me, you understand?" Draco nodded as meekly as he could manage, trying to keep a look of satisfaction off his face. This was going just as he expected it would. Filch seemed pleased with his reaction, then promptly shoved him to his knees. "You know what to do, boy."

Draco didn't hesitate. With nimble hands, he undid the fastenings on the caretaker's slacks, reaching his fingers between the folds of fabric to pull out the older man's erection. Filch's grasp on his hair was still incredibly tight, but Draco ignored it, licking his lips once before opening his mouth and engulfing the engorged cock before him in one easy motion. The older man gasped and brought his other hand down on the other side of Draco's head, holding it tightly in place. There would be no teasing with this one, Draco understood, and relaxed his throat as much as possible as Filch began to fuck his mouth with abandon, Draco giving a hard suck each time the cock was pulled out, swallowing a little each time it was shoved back in. He moaned, trying to remember to breathe as Filch pounded into him, his fingers digging firmly into his scalp, no doubt going to leave more bruises for Draco to look at in the morning.

"You little whore," Filch sneered, looking down to watch his cock sliding in and out of Draco's reddened mouth. "You like this, don't you, you little bitch. Let me hear how much you like it." Draco did as instructed, groaning and making other pleasing noises as the hot dick slid along his tongue and down his throat in strong, regular strokes. Draco looked up, watching Filch's face contort with pleasure as he took what he wanted from him. It looked like he was close.

Without warning, Filch harshly shoved Draco away, pushing him so hard the boy tumbled over on to his back. Filch looked down at Draco, splayed out before him, the older man's breathing heavy, his face flushed. "Strip," he ordered as Draco started to pull himself up. The boy quickly complied, shucking off his clothing without the slightest sense of modesty or shame.

The second he was naked, Filch advanced on him, spinning him around and shoving him over some dusty boxes piled in the room, pinning his arms with one hand above his head. Filch's other hand came around to Draco's mouth, which Draco opened without hesitation as three of the caretaker's fingers were shoved against his tongue, getting them coated with saliva. A few seconds later, Filch pulled back and kicked Draco's legs apart with his knees, examining the tight little hole set out before him. He prodded the entrance with his spit-slicked fingers and let out a low chuckle.

"So, I'm not the first this evening to fuck you, you tramp," Filch said, sounding amused. In one easy movement, he shoved all three fingers up Draco's ass, pulling a low moan from the boy. "Still, there's fun to be had, I think," he said, a sneer in his voice.

Draco braced himself as the fingers were removed, digging his nails into his palms in anticipation of the pain he was sure was coming. He wasn't disappointed. He hissed, feeling himself tear as Filch's cock was slammed into his body, the saliva leftover from the unfinished blowjob not enough ease the entrance. Filch let out a low groan, then reached his hand around to grab Draco's wrist, now one in each hand, holding him still over the boxes so he couldn't get away.

"Still tight, boy, even after all the cocks that have come before," Filch said, experimentally thrusting his hips a few times into the tight wetness of Draco's ass. "Talk to me, boy. You know what I want to hear."

Draco moaned in pain as Filch started thrusting harder and faster, and, feeling the grip on his wrists tighten alarmingly, started talking. "Fuck me," Draco whispered. "I want you to fuck me so hard I'll feel it for weeks." Filch huffed, pushing harder into him, changing the angle slightly to get even deeper. Draco let out a little yelp as the hot cock slammed against his prostrate, springing his own half-hard dick to full-mast, even after all the activity it had gotten this evening.

"Keep talking," Filch growled.

"Oh God," Draco nearly shouted, his faked ecstasy starting to become real, at least as far as his body was concerned. "Shove it into me harder! Faster! Fuck me, that's so good!"

Filch grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic and uneven, his breathing heavier. Suddenly, Draco could feel the grips on his wrists increase tenfold as he continued talking dirty, hearing the delicate bones grind together. With a shout, Filch emptied his load, coating Draco's insides with his hot, slimy semen. The older man breathed heavily, collapsing his full body weight over Draco as he slipped out of his body, finally releasing the bruising grasp on his wrists.

They sat like that for almost a full minute, Draco's own erection still pounding between his legs, regardless of the sick circumstances surrounding it. Filch finally shoved himself off of Draco and the boy shakily turned around, watching through half lidded eyes as the caretaker carefully placed his now limp cock back into his slacks and tied them up. Draco slid bonelessly to the floor. Filch, noticing the action, gave a snort of derision.

"I hope you don't expect me to help you with that," he said nastily. Draco shook his head.

"No," he said smoothly, "I don't." Instead, Draco reached his hand down, grabbing his cock in his graceful fingers, looking down as he slid his hand up and down along it's length, taking care to squeeze it a little at the base, just like he liked it. He looked to his wrist, already starting to swell and purple, as he rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, gasping at the sensation. Not wanting to waste anymore time then he had to in the presence of the hideous caretaker, Draco changed tactics, quickly jerking himself off in admittedly not the most pleasant of fashions, as far as his self-exploration was concerned, but opting for speed, rather than quality. With in less than a minute, Draco felt the rush of orgasm crash through his system, his hand coated in his own sticky white semen.

He looked up at Filch with sleepy eyes, happy to see a smug and pleased looked on the older man's face. Filch reached down and grabbed Draco's clothing, hurling it at him with little restraint. "Get dressed and get back to your dorm, boy. You've earned your freedom."

Draco wasted no time in complying, dressing efficiently and slipping out of the storage room without a backward glance. It was a short trip back to his dorm, luckily without any further interruptions - he didn't think his body would approve of any further intrusions by other members of the faculty he might come across. Slipping out of his clothing again, Draco crawled naked into his bed, closing his eyes as the sound of Goyle's snores reached his ears, not even bothering to shower. He fell asleep, a little smile on his face.

Any means to achieve his ends, indeed.

The End.