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His resolve was slipping.
Cold water dripped from old brass spouts, a damp, musty scent hanging in the air. Mould grew around pipes and tucked into damp corners, green and lush from the moisture in the forgotten loo. Soaked toilet paper littered the floor, forgotten books and suspicious stains dotting the grimey tile. A particularly foul odour emanated from the furthest stall, a greenish-brown sludge slowly encroaching from under the stall’s door. The room was shockingly dark, with mould covering almost every surface, including the large windows. For some reason, this loo had been left abandoned by students and faculty alike.
Draco stood just inside the doorway of the filthy room, eyes wide as he took in the squalor around him. His mind was racing, flipping over itself as the door creaked close behind him. He jumped slightly at the sound, scampering further inward as his jittery footsteps filled the near-silence.
The loo was disgusting, but it was the only reprieve he had. Jerking towards an open stall, he shoved the door open, scrambling inside. He hesitated only slightly at the filth that awaited him, screwing up his nose at the putrid scent before quickly turning, his hands shaking as he locked the latch shut.
Darkness washed over him. Exhaling through his mouth, he slumped onto the grimey toilet seat, breath coming out in short puffs as he nervously ran his hands up and down his thighs. The air was so dense and putrid that he nearly choked as the humidity and stink welled in his lungs. It seeped into his skin, staining him with the same horrid scent as the rest of the loo. Even still, he barely noticed it after a moment, his thoughts too obstructed by other, louder senses to care for the dense heat of sewage.
His sanity was slipping.
Draco could feel his heartbeat bursting through his ears, painful palpitations that only grew more feverish as he sat there, tapping his toe against the stained tile. His knee jerked, his eyes twitched; he felt like an impending Bombarda blast, his body wavering at the edge of a precipice, swaying closer and closer until he finally snapped.
Cursing, Draco shoved to his feet, twitchy fingers working jerkily to unbuckle his belt.
‘Fuck it.’
The thought scratched through his brain, delirium itching at the backs of his eyes. He couldn’t take it—he couldn’t stand it anymore. If he let this go on any longer, he would implode.
Yanking down his trousers and pants, he stumbled slightly before planting his hand against the stall door, shoulders shaking as he reached back and, hesitating for only a moment, placed a tentative finger against his hole.
Draco swallowed weakly, eyes crossing as a shock of pleasure ripped through him. His knees bent together as he inexpertly began rubbing his finger around his slick, puckered hole, hips jerking as his sensitive nerves came alight at the sensation. Cracking his jaw, he craned his neck back slightly, keening as his finger, now covered in his sweet-smelling slick, slipped smoothly into his quivering arse. The sensation nearly made him weep.
“Hngh! Mfg… fuck,” Draco hissed, quickly sinking his finger past the first two digits. It was indescribable—a foreign, electrifying sensation that both terrified and excited him. His hole tingled as he began to thrust his finger in and out of it, breath deepening as he sighed against the damp stall door. The inside of his hole was smooth and silky—warm and inviting to the protrusion as his pace quickened.
“Oh! Hng….”
Subconsciously, he reached down towards his crotch with his other hand, choking out a frustrated sob as his fingers met the unyielding steel of his chastity cage. It was nothing but a half-sphere of thick metal attached to a ring around his scrotum, but it had ruined him—had squished his thin cock down into a puny nub that he couldn’t even touch. It was driving him mad. He’d been forced to bear with it for months, unable to pleasure himself despite having just presented—despite having just reached his maturity.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He was supposed to be out there roaming Hogwarts’ halls, head held high as alphas clapped him on the back, and omegas fell to his feet, begging to become his personal pleasure dolls to use and dispose of as he wished. It was the fate of every Malfoy heir after their presentation—it was his fate that he had been promised since birth. This whole mess was just one big nightmare he was sure to wake up from at any moment. It wasn’t real—it couldn’t be.
Draco’s presentation had been a disaster.
Much like his Hogwarts house sorting, the result of his presentation had been decided the moment he was birthed as the Malfoy heir. The eldest Malfoy child was always an alpha—his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandmother—every heir since the family’s immigration to Britain had been an alpha. It was a legacy spanning centuries, a twenty-generation-long streak that he had undone in a single moment.
His father had been horrified, his mother appalled. She had gone so far as to question her husband’s loyalty. Was it possible that he had a secret mistress who gave birth before she had? Was that child the eldest Malfoy? The true heir? Draco’s father denied it viciously, but what other option was there? What other explanation was there? How else could their beloved son be an omega?
Draco had refused to accept it. He had screamed and wept and threw himself against the walls as his parents argued over his father’s potential infidelity. He had barely heard their shouting in the wake of his own grief. The prospect of a bastard child—an elder sibling who stole his alpha birthright from him—was a moot point, a mere explanation for his sudden, horrific reality.
He was an omega? Draco Malfoy couldn’t be an omega. Omegas were eye-candy—simpering and giggly as they hung off an alpha’s arm. Omegas were soft-skinned, whimpering slags getting their backs blown out in shadowy corridors. Omegas were getting knocked up and wed off before even graduating from Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was not a bloody omega.
Of course, his parents’ outrage and Draco’s denial, no matter how violent, weren’t enough to stop the Ministry from sending their goons to outfit him with the “assistive technology” he was now required, by law, to wear. His father managed to delay them longer than most, demanding that Draco first receive a physical examination to hopefully prove his presentation was a fluke. However, once the mediwitches confirmed his omega anatomy, employees from the Ministry’s Department of Health were at the Malfoy Estate within the hour. They accosted him with clinical precision, ignoring Draco’s violent cursing or his mother’s sobs as they latched a pheromone muting collar around his neck and a restrictive chastity cage around his dick. The collar, its skin-tight leather covering the broad expanse of his neck, was enchanted to dull the intensity of an alpha’s scent to omegas. Supposedly, it gave him more ‘autonomy’, but all Draco saw it as was a mark—a brand that made it impossible for him to hide his new status. It infuriated him to be collared like a dog, but then the cage…. It was such a mortifying humiliation for his penis to be restricted down to a mere nub that he nearly died from the embarrassment right there, as they permanently sealed it onto him.
Draco had been inconsolable for weeks, holing up in his room and refusing to speak to anyone. He barely ate; he slept fitfully. The cage caused him immense pain each time he began to feel arousal, the stiff steel making it impossible for his prick to get hard. He knew in his logical mind that the permanent flaccidity was the point of the torture device. An omega’s ovaries only had so many eggs, after all, while alphas produced new sperm bimonthly. For a male omega, who would ejaculate a large amount of his eggs each time he orgasmed, a cage was necessary to maintain his fertility and stave off premature menopause. Still, the idea of ever pleasuring himself with his arse felt like an admission of defeat—an acceptance of his status—and Draco was far from ever admitting that he had presented as anything but an alpha. And so, he had committed himself to never feeling sexual relief again, determined to do anything and everything to avoid touching himself in such a submissive place.
And yet… he found himself here, cheek pressed against a damp stall door in a filthy loo as he fingered his arse, soft pants of pleasure echoing through the abandoned room. His omega nature had been ignorable enough when he was merely sexually frustrated, but this—this mortifying obstacle of his physiology—was nothing short of sexual torture.
His first heat.
Shivering, shaking with arousal and rage, he yanked his finger from his arse, heart slamming into his ribcage as his base instincts began to override his conscious thoughts. He needed bigger—he needed longer. Swallowing hard, Draco squeezed his eyes shut in shame as he ripped his wand from its holster, smearing his slick along the thin shaft of wood before quickly repositioning it above his hole. Shoving the tip of his poor wand into his tight passage, he whimpered breathlessly before slowly pressing it deeper inside, shivering at the thin but deep penetration that followed. It was heavenly—it was disgusting. He hated it, but he was too desperate to care. He needed it deep.
“Mmhg….”
He would allow himself this slight reprieve—this hidden moment of weakness before returning to Hogwarts’ vicious halls. He could rationalise it away as a necessary evil as long as it caused his heat to lessen—anything to avoid making his humiliation any more insurmountable than it had already become.
Draco had hidden his presentation from his peers before the school year began, but once the first of September reared its ugly head, everyone bore witness to his unclaimed collar and flowery scent. The initial shock quickly turned to mockery from his Slytherin associates. His friends, once loyal to him alone, questioned his familial ties. He shunned them in response, and before long, he had become all but a pariah in his house. Such humiliation couldn’t hold a candle to the rest of the school’s gleeful vindictiveness, though, and the Gryffindors were by far the worst of the lot, especially since Potter had….
Draco whimpered, his shoulders shaking as an image of Potter’s sharpened teeth burst through his mind. He quickly shook his head, panting as he drove his wand deeper. He was sick of it—sick of the Gryffindors’ jeers and Potter’s damned alpha scent stinking up the place. The bastard had the gal to laugh at him—at Draco Malfoy! If his parents weren’t so busy fighting, he would have his father come down to throttle the bespeckled twat. Seeing that cross-bred muggle-lover stomping about as if he owned the place was sickening.
‘No,’ Draco thought, shaking his head violently. It didn’t matter if Potter was an alpha. Draco was still a Malfoy, and that was something no one could change. No matter his presentation, he was still above Potter in prestige. He was still better than all of them, whether alpha, beta, or omega. He would reign high above them all. He was a Malfoy. It’s what Malfoys did.
More confident now, emboldened by his pride, Draco began to thrust his wand at a slight angle, sighing unevenly as the tip hit some deep point inside of him that made his legs shake. It hurt slightly, but he was too desperate to care. Pushing back against the thin stick, he pushed magic into the hilt of his wand, and the tip began to thrum with gentle vibrations. The sensation made him shiver and arch his back, his fervour gaining speed as the vibrations drove him mad.
Deep inside his mind, a small voice was whimpering pitiful sobs. He ignored it violently, forcing down the instincts and replacing them with a clinical lust. He just needed to finish this, and he would be done. He just had to relieve the pent-up frustration, and he would be out of the loo and back to class before anyone noticed he was gone.
‘We need cock.’ It pled to him. ‘We need to be bred.’
“Ah!”
His cage began to tighten painfully as his arousal soared. Worming his wand out of his arse, he tossed it to the ground and replaced it with three of his fingers, keening at the wider stretch. It was good. If only he could reach deeper—to that part inside him that his wand could touch—then he might just be able to climax without his cock.
Whimpering, breath growing feverish as his slick started to excrete in greater amounts around his sphincter, Draco arched his back and moaned. The tightness lessened, his fingers went deeper, and he quickened his thrusting. His arse was loosening remarkably fast—opening up to his fingers with shocking ease. It was… Merlin, it was incredible.
His vision was swimming. The heat in his arse continued to climb as he worked his fingers deeper and deeper, panting and moaning as the heat got closer and closer and… Draco whimpered again, cursing as he reached as deep as he could. His fingers weren’t enough. He needed more. He needed to go deeper.
Slam!
Draco shrieked, yanking his fingers from his arse as the scent of burnt wood and chilli peppers rushed to meet his nose. An alpha—a familiar one—had just stormed into the loo. His eyes widened in alarm as footsteps rushed towards his stall, a terrified yelp bursting from his mouth as a large body suddenly slammed into the rickety door full force. He jostled backwards, the backs of his knees slamming into the toilet bowl. He fell back, then surged up, limbs flailing as he dragged his feet off the ground. He could see the sliver of a shadow beneath the door—his mind scrambled for explanations as he watched it pull back before surging forward again. The alpha’s body made a harsh impact with the stall door, bowling into it so forcefully that one of the hinges snapped.
“Oi!” he shouted, kicking out like a newborn fawn as his trousers tangled around his ankles. His back hit the damp stone wall; his feet slipped along the uneven toilet seat, his slick arse failing to find steady purchase as he sat precariously on the water tank. The alpha stepped back again, and Draco grabbed for his trousers, slipping over himself as he tried to drag them over his knees before–
Crack!
Like a bolt of lightning, the wood cracked in two, splinters flying as Draco screamed in terror. He kicked a leg out at the alpha on instinct, shrieking and flailing as a hand grabbed hold of his extended ankle and yanked him down from atop the water tank. He floundered awkwardly, limbs flailing as he fell to the floor, tailbone slamming against the hard tile as the back of his head smacked hard against the porcelain edge of the toilet bowl.
“Gurk…” he retched, vision spinning.
Something was said, but Draco couldn’t make it out as his ears began to ring. There was a deep, throbbing pain at the base of his skull. His heartbeat throbbed through it, so loud that it almost managed to drown out the ferocious heat in his core. He blinked slowly, disoriented and confused. In his daze, he distantly felt someone roughly yank him up, turn him around, and—
He choked, thrashing out against his attacker as his face was suddenly shoved into the toilet bowl. The cold, murky water jerked him back to clarity, shocking his system as he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of sour, brownish-yellow toilet water.
“Gluugh–” he blubbered, hacking a mangled cough as his head was dragged out of the toilet bowl a moment later. There was a laugh—a familiar, heady chuckle tinged with self-satisfying pride—and all at once, the reality of his situation finally forced its way through the haze of terror.
“‘Ello, Ferret,” the alpha muttered, lustful hate dancing through the air as he slapped Draco’s arse hard. The voice and laugh were so familiar, so obvious—Draco screamed in horror when he finally realised it.
“Potter!” He released a furious wail, throwing a fist back at the overwhelming stench of burnt wood and chilli peppers as he fought against the alpha’s grip. He knew that rancid scent—it stank up the halls and suffocated the classrooms, burning through his nose like stinksap. “Let go of me! You—!”
He gagged as his face was shoved back into the toilet bowl, shock stilling him as musty water flooded his lungs. Potter barely seemed to twitch, the alpha’s firm grip unrelenting as Draco’s face was held so deep into the bowl that his nose squished against the disgusting bottom. Draco was about to scream out—to thrash and kick and fight for air—before something thick and hot pressed against his hole.
Suddenly, his mind was blank.
Like a ragdoll, Draco went limp, a deeper, more carnal side of him surging to the surface as he felt the alpha’s cock coyly rub against his entrance. He shivered at the sensation, bubbles floating around his face as a moan accidentally escaped him. Potter rubbed his thick cockhead around Draco’s slick entrance for a moment, seeming to enjoy the way it made Draco’s body twitch. It was steady—gentle, almost—until Potter suddenly thrust forward.
Draco choked, eyes bulging as the alpha unceremoniously rammed in and filled him up, a wave of electricity throttling up his spine as the alpha’s unbelievably thick cock stretched past his virgin hole and bottomed out inside him in a single, smooth thrust.
His mind imploded.
The alpha filled him—completely and utterly—until all he could feel was the throbbing heat stretching him wide. Draco choked down water as he keened and sobbed, horror and ecstasy overwhelming him as he was taken violently in his tight, virgin arse. The alpha was unrelenting. Potter held him there in delirium. Draco’s mind snapped and popped—cracked apart and scattered—lost to the world beyond the stall as the alpha’s cock rammed deeper and deeper inside of him, his pace unforgiving and violent.
And in that moment, Draco’s heat just… bloomed.
‘Alpha! Alpha, please— breed me, breed me, please! Please, please pleea–”
His arms fell limply on either side of the toilet—he lost all feeling in them as his spine crackled with mind-numbing sensations. Potter seemed to realise he had given up fighting, as his face was abruptly yanked from the bowl again. Draco dragged a breath into his lungs before sharply exhaling a sob. The heat, the fullness—it encompassed him completely. His nerves were on fire.
“P-please,” Draco whimpered, weakly tugging his hips away from the overwhelming fullness as his skull throbbed and his legs went numb. “Plea—gurk!”
His face slammed into the water, his forehead making a sharp crack against the porcelain at the bottom of the bowl. He choked, twitching weakly, as the water began rushing around him. It dragged down across his cheeks into the pipe below, sucking him further down with the violent torrent before suddenly surging back up to his face and submerging his head completely. He could barely comprehend the motion as water rushed up his nose and popped his ears; all he could feel was the sharp smack smack smack of Potter’s thighs against his arsecheeks as the alpha forcibly fucked him open.
‘It hurts,’ he thought distantly, gasping as his face was dragged out of the water again. He couldn’t feel his limbs—his eyes seemed screwed shut—his mouth permanently latched open. He gagged out pained yelps with each thrust, his body jerking with electricity as the alpha hit places too deep inside him to comprehend. His skin burned, his nerves screamed—agony and ecstasy twisted through him like thin metal wire lacerating the muscle beneath his skin.
“So… tight.”
The alpha’s words rang through his ears like the gong of a bell, the only clear sounds he had managed to perceive beyond his throaty gasps and weak pleas. Potter’s breath hit the back of his neck, the smell of fire and spice burning his eyes as the alpha’s musk overwhelmed him.
“What a good bitch.”
Draco fell forward as Potter suddenly let go of his hair, his face smacking against the icy water again. Draco gurgled, vision swaying as he lay there limply, jerking with each thrust into him. Merlin, Draco wanted to yank himself out of the toilet bowl. He wanted to move even slightly—protest against the vile acts being committed against him—but his limbs were unresponsive. He could feel nothing but the agonising euphoria zapping up and down his spine, ripping in and out of his entrance as Potter used him like… like a bitch in heat.
‘Well, you are a bitch in heat,’ someone whispered. Draco couldn't tell who. Was it Potter speaking, or himself?
His skin buzzed, his brain throbbing inside his skull as his ears rang and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Draco gurgled, darkness slowly overtaking him before he suddenly passed out, his body going completely limp as Potter flushed the toilet again, and another rush of cool water churned through the omega’s pale hair.
Smack!
He woke with a start, yelping as a sharp pain bloomed from his rear. Draco blinked rapidly, realising he was no longer in the toilet stall. Instead, his damp cheek was against the cold tile floor, his arse in the air, and his arms splayed out on either side of him. The wet slap of skin against skin permeated the otherwise silent loo, and a second later, he remembered what had happened. Potter—the door, his heat—how much time had passed? His arse was making sloppy, wet sounds, slick and sweat dripping down his thighs as Potter grunted with each thrust. Draco whimpered, squirming as a sudden stretching sensation started to build in his hole. For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of it as he floundered to clear his head, before suddenly realising with a violent epiphany that it was Potter’s knot, steadily beginning to swell inside his arse.
“Stop–” he croaked, knees slipping unevenly across the tile as he sought enough purchase to worm away. “Plea—stop! Stop!”
“Shut up,” Potter spat, thrusting forward as he dragged Draco back onto the thickening shaft with a grotesque shlurp! He bottomed out, and Draco screamed as his arsecheeks slammed into Potter’s pelvis, his sphincter popping over the alpha’s thick knot. He went cross-eyed, a full-body quake wracking through him as a flood of heat surged through his gut. Potter stilled, groaning throatily as he came directly into Draco’s womb. The omega twitched and whimpered, his insides boiling with an indescribable ardour. The sensation of his womb being filled to the brim banished all fight from him. The alpha had knotted him. Potter’s wretched sperm was filling him up. He could feel it weigh deep in his stomach, heavy and hot like a thick sludge of magmatic lead.
Smack!
“Gugh–!” he choked, jumping back to life as Potter spanked him harshly across the arse. Twisting his neck so he could look down between his legs, he sucked in a breath as he laid eyes on his stomach, slightly distended from the cum filling him—Potter’s cum filling him. Draco shivered, breathing heavily as his eyes slowly dropped from his swollen belly to his alpha’s balls, which hung heavy and low beneath Draco’s steel nub. They looked so thick and inviting—Draco had an overwhelming urge to lick them. He felt his stretched hole twitch at the thought. He could see it in his mind—his mouth closing around his alpha’s thick sack, slurping and sucking till his alpha came thick and–
Draco jerked back to attention with a gasp, eyes widening as he felt his alpha’s knot slowly begin to stretch his hole. Was… was Potter trying to pull out before the knot deflated?
“Wait–!” he started, throwing an arm behind him.
Potter smacked his arm away, before planting a foot and digging in his heels, tsking as he gripped Draco’s hips tighter. Slowly, agonisingly, the knot started to drag out of Draco’s hole, the freshly bred omega kicking and sobbing as it did. It was agony—his alpha laughed at his cries, giving a final yank as the knot popped from Draco’s hole with a wet schlurp! Draco cried out, choking on a gurgled sob as Potter let go of his bony hips, sighing contently as Draco’s body collapsed to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Draco lay there for a moment, frozen in shock and panting. His arsehole gaped wide, the cold air brushing along the inside of his sensitive passage as cum oozed out of it. The realisation dawned on him quickly despite the haze in his mind. Potter had been his first. Potter had stolen his virginity from him. He had knotted Draco and came inside him during his heat. Draco shivered, trying and failing to tighten his loose hole back up again. His muscles disobeyed him, loose and unresponsive as he tried pathetically to clench around the musty air. He couldn’t bear to be seen so defenceless, his body surrendering to instincts—open and inviting for his alpha–
Draco choked on air. His alpha? Potter was not his alpha; he would never be–
‘My alpha…?’
Draco felt tears fill his eyes as Potter shuffled around, weeping silently as the full reality of his situation dawned on him. Unknowing of Draco’s devastation—or, more likely, uncaring—his alpha stood, his shoes dragging against the tile and belt buckle clicking against his trouser buttons as he readjusted his clothes. Draco breathed shallowly, listening as his alpha shuffled around before suddenly stilling. Draco could feel the other boy’s eyes on him, cold and unforgiving as he stared down at Draco’s pale, twitching form.
Potter spat on him.
“Whore,” his alpha muttered, then snorted out a laugh, turning on his heel and wordlessly walking from the loo, the clack of his shoes echoing behind him. Draco couldn’t seem to move. Potter’s words kept him rooted in place as the door slammed shut with a resounding bang!
He was alone, wet and shivering, on the cold floor.
The door slamming had broken him from his spell, and he slowly sat up, sniffling as he rubbed the back of his head. There was a large bump at the base of his skull where it hit the toilet. His nose was filled with water; his head felt like it was about to burst. There was something else, though—a creeping sense of fullness that settled comfortably in the middle of his stomach. It was a horrific idea to accept, but he could feel that his heat had abated. Something deep inside him felt… content.
He sat there for a moment, shivering, before weakly turning onto his side. Arms shaking, he planted his hands and began to crawl towards the sinks, his skin sticky and slick. He grabbed the rim of one and dragged himself onto shaky legs, groaning lowly as every inch of his body protested the action. He was tired and… and hungry. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Clutching the sink, he held himself there for a moment, mindless except for the vague awareness of pain. Draco realised then that his clothes were missing. Dismay itched along the back of his spine, but he quickly brushed it away. There was nothing he could do. He had to leave, clothed or not. Another alpha could find him there and corner him again, and Draco doubted he would survive another round of harsh breeding.
Pretending that his knees had stopped quivering, he slowly let go of the sink’s lip and began making his way towards the door, not bothering to cover himself as he pushed it open and slowly inched down the hall. Cum dripped from his hole with each step, leaving a trail of shame behind him as he hobbled along, using the wall as leverage. He passed other students as he went, but either they didn’t seem to notice him or didn’t seem to care as his naked, pale body slowly made its way towards the dungeons. He certainly didn’t care if they saw him, his thoughts too jumbled and his body too weak to even think about what was sensible. He just kept walking, slowly dribbling his alpha’s cum down the corridor as other students wordlessly passed him by.
He was pregnant.
Draco held his stomach absentmindedly, rubbing his swollen belly as Professor Binns droned on about the dull semantics of Goblin Wars. Three months. Three months had passed since Potter had taken him, and in that time, Draco’s few remaining shreds of pride had dwindled into nothing. He felt like he was now nothing more than a ballooning husk of his old self. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though. His perspective had become warped from how it once was.
At first, he denied the pregnancy violently, the mere thought of carrying Potter’s child making him destructively ill. He was supposed to be a Malfoy after all, and yet here was Potter’s child inside him, growing so quickly that it soon became impossible to ignore the swell beneath his shirt. He felt sure Potter had done it on purpose. His alpha must have been following him—waiting until Draco’s resolve was weakened by his first heat to strike. Potter had purposefully sullied his pureblooded lineage, and now Draco was ruined. The son of a mudblood and a blood traitor… surely there was no one worse to sire a Malfoy’s child than Harry Potter?
He breathed out a sigh, glancing down at his stomach as Binns continued to drone on unhindered. He felt so foolish, remembering how viciously he had mocked the many pregnant omegas dotting Hogwarts’ eldest years. He had thought himself better than them. Presenting as an omega wouldn’t stop him from dominating Hogwarts. Malfoys never lost to anyone—it didn’t matter if they were an alpha, beta, or omega. Malfoys always won.
But Draco wasn’t a Malfoy.
With the news of his pregnancy, Draco’s mother finally admitted that it was not her husband who committed the affair. Draco’s father—no, Lord Malfoy—had been livid to discover that Draco was not his child but the product of an affair between Narcissa and some random French lord she had met on their honeymoon. Draco’s mother had pleaded with him to stay with her despite his fury, and it seemed to have succeeded, but even if their marriage was salvaged, Draco’s last name was still revoked, and his image smeared permanently. He had no home to return to anymore.
Draco cringed at the thought, knees drawing together subconsciously as the lecture ended and the students around him stood. He remained seated for a moment, slowly gathering up his quills as his peers chattered amongst themselves. They made a point to ignore Draco and his corner of solitude.
He could feel Potter’s eyes on him even now—the twisted, cruel green watching his every move as Draco slowly lifted himself from his desk, a protective hand resting against his stomach as he held his balance with the other. The movement was growing more cumbersome by the day, Draco noticed, and his baby bump had become more than obvious, even after only a few months of pregnancy. Draco feared it was a sign that he had fallen pregnant with twins, but had yet to return to Madam Pomfery after his initial appointment to confirm his suspicion. Part of him denied the mere suggestion of twins, but the other felt deep in his bones that he was too large for three months.
Draco carefully pulled his satchel over his shoulder, his heart thudding in his ears at the idea of having twins, or maybe even triplets.
Joining the stream of students, he slowly treaded out of the room, eyes downcast to the floor as the smell of alphas clung to every inch of the air. Bodies moved around him in a hurry, ignorant of his bowed head as he cradled his stomach in both hands. Pregnancy had made him so meek and pliable, and the loss of his family name had zapped him completely. What else was there for him to do but cling to Harry Potter’s child? It was his last hope for security—his only salvation in a sea of despair.
As he exited the room, he had only a moment to take in the sudden burning in his nose before a hand landed hard on his arse. He jerked to attention as the scent of chilli peppers itched around his eyes. Breathing hard, Draco bowed his head lower, shoulders shaking as great peals of laughter boomed around him. His face reddened, and his arsecheek burned. The hand squeezed, and Draco could barely stand to look up as the smell of burnt wood and chilli peppers overwhelmed his senses.
“I can smell your slick stinking up the place,” Potter hissed, jerking his hand lower and shoving his digits against the wet spot of slick that dampened Draco’s trousers. Draco’s legs quivered, and he stumbled as his alpha dragged him out of the doorway and roughly slammed his face into a wall. Hoots and hollers sounded as Potter grabbed Draco’s waistband with the other hand and yanked his trousers and pants to his knees, exposing his dripping hole for the entire corridor to see. Draco shivered weakly but didn’t protest, already used to the humiliation. He didn’t care about the eyes of others anymore—only his alpha’s words and the children in his belly. To that end, his legs began shaking as he heard the familiar sound of Potter unzipping his fly, his hole dripping with need as his alpha lined up and roughly rammed in.
The sound of skin-on-skin echoed through the air as Potter roughly pounded Draco’s loose, needy hole, shouts of encouragement and lust rising into the air as others began grabbing omegas and following suit with the frenzied rutting. Potter led by example, grabbing Draco’s hair and roughly yanking his face back before slamming it into the wall again and again. Draco merely moaned, rutting back against his alpha’s cock as he was filled to the brim with that delicious, throbbing heat.
His alpha had yet to claim him—to mark him as his own—but Draco didn’t mind very much. He doubted that Potter would ever give him the dignity of a mark, so there was no use wishing for it. His alpha would much rather leave Draco disgraced and unclaimed, nothing but a hole for him to fuck and fill when it pleased him. And, if that was what Potter wanted, Draco couldn’t argue. He was a nameless, pregnant omega with no claim to anything but the children in his womb. Without his alpha’s kindness, he would be lucky to find a warm street corner to sleep on, much less a home.
Whimpering, Draco reached back and spread his arsecheeks apart, biting his lip as his alpha’s knot started to swell. Pain bloomed from the side of his head as his cheek was crushed into the wall, intermingling with the pleasure in his hole as the thrusts grew frenzied—faster and faster until Draco was practically vibrating from the aggressive rutting. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, toes curling. Suddenly, his alpha wrapped his free arm under Draco’s swollen belly and lifted Draco’s hips for a better angle, his feet lifting off the ground as Potter fucked him into the wall even harder.
“Whore,” his alpha hissed. Draco nodded hurriedly in agreement, moaning as he bucked pathetically against the other boy’s crotch. After all, what else could he be, if not Harry Potter’s whore?
Just as the thought came over him, the other boy suddenly bottomed out, thick knot popping past the omega’s abused sphincter. Draco gasped as his alpha groaned, the other boy emptying his thick load inside Draco’s hole with a few sharp thrusts. Draco barely made a sound as the sensation rolled over him, eyes crossing as a throbbing pleasure swam through his ears.
He twitched and whimpered indistinctly, mind blank as his alpha roughly yanked the knot out of his hole, letting go of his hips as he did. Draco fell, boneless, to the floor, protecting his stomach with his shoulder as he hit the ground hard. He gasped as a burst of pain shot through his shoulder, but didn’t bother to move. His alpha liked it when he was compliant and pathetic, so Draco didn’t move. He just laid there and cradled his stomach, twitching occasionally as the pleasure blurred his vision and made his limbs go numb.
And, as the disgraced omega lay there, cum seeping out of his abused hole, his beloved alpha turned on his heel and walked away.