*✧･ﾟ:* DEAD TO ME *:･ﾟ✧*
WARNING: extremely nsfw content.
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HOGWARTS
1991
INDIANA JONES HAD been practically bouncing on her toes all day. It was her first ever week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she only had three things on her mind: make good impressions on all her teachers, find a way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team, and become the very best of friends with Harry Potter.
She didn't think she'd have very much trouble with any of these things, she thought as she practically skipped down the hallway with a boy named Blaise Zabini at her side (who she had declared as her best friend after speaking with him for five minutes). The pair of them had been freaking out about Harry freakin Potter being in the same year as them; after learning about his famous past all throughout their childhoods and seeing him in the flesh, both kids were adamant on befriending him, or, at the very least, becoming acquainted.
So when they spotted him walking out of History of Magic with a red-headed boy named Ron Weasley at his side, Indiana and Blaise only traded one look before bounding after the brunette boy, weaving through other students in hopes of catching up to him.
"Hey — Potter!" Blaise called out, knowing that Indiana probably would have stuttered so hard on his name that it wasn't coherent. Potter turned his head, his glasses slipping down his confused face, but as he laid eyes on them, his brows stitched together a bit. "Wait up!"
Ron Weasley was already glaring at them. Indiana had never liked Weasley too much, but she told herself she could deal with him if it meant getting to know Potter. When Blaise and Indiana reached the pair, they were momentarily shell-shocked at the sight of the legendary scar, forgetting their entire plan.
"Blaise Zabini," Blaise told them, extended a hand. Potter instinctively lifted a hand to shake his, but dropped it when Weasley nudged his elbow. Indiana frowned, but replaced it with a smile as she met Potter's eyes and brought Blaise's hand back down.
"I'm Indiana, we spoke on the tr-train, remember?" Indiana asked him, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. Potter nodded his head.
"Yeah, you're Quidditch girl," He said. Indiana beamed, her eyes crinkling.
"Yeah, totally!" Indiana was happy he remembered her. She ignored Weasley's cold looks and focused on the matter of hand. "Y-You're not a Slytherin, which kinda s-sucks, but it's okay!"
"Yeah, we don't care if you're Gryffindor," Blaise told him brightly, giving him a toothy grin, the empty space of where he had lost a tooth showing in his smile. "You're cool."
"Thanks," Potter turned a bit pink in the face.
"We have an offer," Blaise started. Potter looked thoroughly confused, but before he could respond, Weasley nudged him again.
"Come on, Harry," He muttered under his breath, probably thinking the others couldn't hear him. He glanced at the Slytherins again before whispering, "They're friends with Malfoy!"
"Oh," Potter muttered, his brilliant green eyes darting back at them, his neutral expression turning into a sort of uncomfortable grimace. "Erm — sorry, uhm — we've got to get to Potions."
"We have Potions, too," Blaise said, oblivious to the boys' side conversation nor Potter's discomfort. "Snape's a drag, but he's alright."
"He's awful," Weasley said meanly. "He favorites you guys over everyone else, all cause of your stupid house."
Indiana frowned and said, "It's not stupid. Every professor favors their own house in their classes.."
"Well, still," Weasley shrugged, not following up with anything else.
"Well, anyways," Indiana ignored Weasley and shifted her eyes to Potter again. And with the tiniest bit of envy in her voice, she told him, "Congrats on Quidditch, by the way! Youngest seeker in a century, that's b-brilliant!"
"Oh, thanks," Potter turned pink again, but spared a glance at Weasley anxiously. He said nothing more.
"What d'you want, anyways?" Weasley asked bluntly.
"We're just being nice," Blaise said pointedly, now forming a glare to return right back to Weasley, his brows furrowing dangerously. "S'that a crime, now?"
"Yeah, cause Slytherins are just gonna 'be nice,'" Weasley scoffed sarcastically. "You're obviously out to get Harry."
"What?" Indiana said emphatically, eyes darting in between Potter and Weasley desperately. "No! We just — we're trying to make friends! That's it!"
"Why're you being so mean, Weasley?" Blaise stepped in front of Indiana protectively. Potter stayed quiet, his face screwed up with guilt when he glanced at Indiana's frown.
"Come on, Harry," Weasley said, louder this time. "We can't be getting in trouble with Slytherins so early in the year."
And Weasley turned to walk off. Potter didn't move, still looking at the pair of them with a small grimace. Blaise was glaring now, any interest of being friends with the Gryffindor gone, whereas Indiana was only frowning, her brows contorted with disappointment. What the hell did she do? She just wanted to be friends with the bloke, was that so bad? Was it her? Did Potter already not like her? Did he think she was just a slimy Slytherin?
"I'm sorry," Potter said quickly to the pair of them, directing this more towards Indiana, stepping backwards with a kind glint in his eyes. "I don't think you're —"
"Harry," Weasley called out again. Potter turned his head to look at Weasley before shifting his eyes to the Slytherins again.
"Sorry," He muttered weakly, before fully turning and walking after Weasley. Blaise huffed with a scowl, grabbing onto Indiana's hand and pulling her further down the hall towards the Potions classroom. They shared Potions with Weasley and Potter, and Indiana spent the entirety of the class slumped into her seat; she didn't even pay attention.
✧✧✧
PRESENT DAY
2000
POTTER BLINDLY FOLLOWED her like a lost puppy, and Indiana languidly guided him towards the couch on the other side of the Quidditch Commons, and with only a single gesture from her, he scrambled to take a seat without hesitation. Indiana was a bit amused by the way his eyes had widened when rather than sitting beside him, she had dropped to her knees in front of him.
"What?" Indiana asked curiously when he handed her one of the small pillows. Sending him a curious look, she drawled, "And this is for...?"
"Your knees," Potter said as though it were obvious, his face a brilliant pink. "Er — so they don't — like — get sore from —"
Oh, god, even when she was about to suck him off he was being polite. Laughing quietly to herself, she took the pillow from him and dropped it on the ground beside her. Placing her hands on his knees, she dragged her fingers up — up — up until they were on the uppermost part of his thighs.
"I don't need a pillow, Potter," Indiana purred, her hands now resting in between his thighs and his hips, her fingers dancing dangerously close to his bulge. His breath was catching in his throat at her every move. He was looking down at her with hooded eyelids, bright green eyes appearing to be a bit darker than usual; his hair was a right mess (as per usual) and his glasses were sliding down his nose a bit. Indiana hated the way she felt her stomach flip when she locked eyes with him. This was a hookup. Not some... love confession. "Can't believe I'm your first...!"
"Quit talking about that — I — oh god —" He could barely speak, she thought, as she brought her hand over to palm him through the fabric of his trousers. Shit, did she turn him on that much? She didn't think she had ever been with someone who had gotten this hard.
"My apologies for mentioning it," Indiana hummed, although she didn't feel sorry at all. Potter let out a choked sort of gasp, his hips involuntarily bucking upwards. "Just... a bit shocked, s'all."
One hand applying more pressure on him, she was surprised to see him squirm so much under her touch as her other hand moved up to undo the button and zipper of his trousers. His lips were pressed tightly together, one of his hands shaking just a tad at his side.
"Relax," She told him, and once she had successfully undone his trousers, she placed her hand over top of his. His eyes widened a bit more at the affectionate gesture, his eyes flickering in between her eyes, the hand on his groin, and the hand holding his own. And then, partially joking, she added, "It's only me."
"That doesn't h-help," Potter breathed out, his voice wavering. His eyes were glued to the hand that was putting pressure on him, his pupils dilated so greatly that she wondered if he had taken a potion or something before coming down to the commons. "That makes it w-worse, actually —"
"Ignore my aid, then," Indiana shrugged with a light smirk, slipping her fingers underneath the material of his trousers before slipping her hands under his briefs. "Insult me all you want, but I'm not the one squirming about, yeah?"
It seemed he had been about to make a sharp retort, but his words choked in his throat when he saw that his erection had sprung out, hitting against his stomach. Indiana's eyes bulged, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say.
The silence seemed to be killing him. Indiana gulped, hoping her skills would be sufficient, and let her eyes dart in between his cock and his eyes for a long moment. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and only to make him possibly feel a bit better, she locked eyes with him and ran her teeth over her bottom lip as though to communicate that her reaction was a good one. When she wrapped one of her hands around his shaft, she felt the rest of his body stiffen so greatly that she sent him another look.
"You alright, Potter?" She asked him, grinning wickedly. He swallowed and nodded, opening his mouth to respond.
"Brilliant," He croaked out, blinking twice and suppressing the urge to groan. It seemed he had opened his mouth to say something more, but the words fell flat when she pressed a single kiss to his swollen tip, allowing her tongue to peek through her lips and firmly lick along the slit, where a rather large amount pre-cum had been sitting. She broke her eye contact with him as she ran her tongue along the length of him, resisting the urge to smile as she heard him gasp again.
She had been sucking him off for a good bit of time when she finally looked up at him again; his head was bent backwards in that ever-so-endearing fashion, exposing the base of his neck, eyes half lidded. His free hand was clasped partially over his mouth, his front knuckle in between his teeth as though to prevent himself from letting out the moans she knew he was holding back.
"Awfully quiet up there," She murmured, licking her lips when she took her mouth off of him and leisurely running her hand up and down him, stroking his length and stopping to run a thumb over the tip every couple of seconds. At her words, he dipped his head forward, and felt her ego boost when she saw the so-very desperate look on his face.
Potter weakly nodded, removing his knuckles from his mouth but keeping his teeth clenched over his bottom lip. Indiana felt her smirk grow.
"No comments? Concerns?" She purred, and still making eye contact with him, she kissed the tip of his cock again. A barely audible — oh my god, did he just whimper? — noise came from his mouth as he watched her, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Christ, Potter, not even an insult? That good, is it?"
It seemed he could not respond. His eyelids kept fluttering closed and his hips were desperately bucking upwards into her hand, his chest heaving up and down dangerously as he panted. Responsive, she thought. His lips were a bright red from where his teeth had been gnawing on them. She wanted to kiss him again.
"You're a lot bigger than I thought you'd be, you know," Indiana told him honestly. Although he turned a brilliant pink, he said nothing. Smirking up at him, she said, "No nothin', huh, Potter?"
"I — I'm in a bit of a — fuck —!" As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, she parted her lips and dived her mouth down as far as it could go, hollowing her cheeks and gliding her tongue over the underside of him. Using her free hand, she grasped his hand in her own and pulled it down to rest against the back of her own head, allowing him to get a feel for it. Bobbing her head, she felt him slowly grasp the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair as though it was what he had been waiting for this whole time.
One hand stroking the part of him that she couldn't manage to fit in her mouth (which, by the way, was an achievement since her gag-reflex was practically nonexistent at this point) and the other holding his thighs so they didn't crush her head, she could hear the moans and whimpers that he had tried so hard to hold back slipping out, and her desire to get him to finish for her only grew.
"I — I —" She heard him stammer, and she resisted the urge to say something like 'Who's stuttering now?' His hand was pulling at her hair, looping the locks about his fingers and tugging so gently that a shiver had traveled up the line of her back. "I'm — I think I'm — oh, god, I — please, Indi —Indiana —"
Indiana almost stopped. He had — he had just whimpered her name. Her first name. She could barely even process the rest of the words he may or may not have said; the sound of her own name was bouncing about her eardrums and flooding into her brain, repeating itself like the annoying lyrics of a song you could never get out of your head. Indiana, he had said. Please, Indiana.
"M'gonna — ah —" He didn't finish his sentence, due to the mumbled and incoherent string of curses that fell from his lips as his body convulsed, green eyes rolling deep into the back of his head as hot ropes of cum shot way into the back of her throat. She swallowed with no issue, but when she removed her mouth from him, she continued to stroke him to milk out his orgasm. Indiana had done this many, many times before, and blowing a guy had always sort of been just the thing to do — but this was the first time she had ever blown someone had truly enjoyed it.
"Holy fuck," She heard him breathe lowly after a minute, his chest heaving up and down as he tucked himself back into his trousers. Smirking to herself, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she got to her feet, sitting herself down on the couch beside him.
Potter dipped his head forward, tired, half-lidded eyes staring lustfully into hers as she brought one of her hands to the side of his face, cupping his jaw and pulling his mouth onto hers. He hungrily moved towards her, one of his hands moving towards the back of her head again to tousle with her hair. She wondered if he could taste himself on her tongue.
Instead of that lurching in the lower region of her stomach she was so familiar with, she felt her heart do a backflip. His kiss was unbelievably soft; in between each one there was a short moment where their lips brushed lightly over one another's. It was... it was nice. It was really nice, actually. No one had ever kissed her like that before.
Whilst one of his hands was gently toying with her hair, the other trailed down to touch her left hand, mindlessly playing with her fingers. Her stomach was fluttering again at the ghostliness of his touch, her heart pounding so heavily that she could barely even contain herself. This wasn't just hooking up, this was — this was something else. She couldn't tell what, but Merlin knew she wanted more.
His hand left her hair and trickled down to the hem of her Quidditch jersey, fiddling with the hem and lightly tugging it upwards, and perhaps if it were someone else she'd have been annoyed that he stopped playing with her hair, but she had never wanted to take her shirt off for someone so badly. So bad that she forgot about her left forearm.
When her shirt flew onto the floor, nothing had changed quite yet. His brows had leaped up and he wasn't even trying to avert his eyes away from her breasts. But when she lifted her arm to brush her hair behind her shoulders, she saw him freeze. And she glanced down and oh fuck she had forgotten her Glamour Charm and he was staring at her scar-and-burn-littered Dark Mark and he didn't say anything and oh fuck oh god no —
She swooped low to try and kiss him again, and although he had moved forward again to return the gesture, he inched back, his brows furrowed as though she had said something greatly disappointing.
"Jones..." He uttered, running a hand through his hair and not looking at her. Her heart was twisting in her chest, not in the fluttery-butterfly way it had earlier, but in a painful way. That's not my name, she thought bitterly. My name is Indiana. Call all me Indiana again. "That's — if someone ever —"
There was an odd look in his eyes. A very odd look indeed. Conflicted, maybe, but more of a bitter satisfaction. Like he knew ahead of time. Like he wanted to know.
"No," She muttered to herself, cutting off his pointless blabbering as she figured out the truth with a sinking in her stomach. Potter stitched his brows together. And then, ripping herself away from him, and swiped her shirt off the ground and frantically brought it over her head. "You prick. You absolute prick."
"What?" Potter got to his feet too, his fingers fumbling with the zipper of his trousers as he composed his appearance. "What're you —?"
"I knew it," She said quietly. "I knew you weren't just — that you would never — ugh!"
"What're you on about, Jones?" Potter exclaimed, trailing after her as she crossed the Quidditch Commons over to her locker, swinging it open with a loud clang!
"You and your fucking hero complex!" She shouted, whipping around to glare at him, her green cigarette lighter in her hand. Her eyes had welled up with bitter, salty tears, but she didn't really give a shit. She was too livid. "What're you gonna do now that you've seen it for yourself, huh? Take that damn memory to the ministry? Convince them to seal the deal?"
"What?" Potter looked bewildered. "That's not what I —!"
"I should have known you'd pull something like this," Indiana grabbed her pack of cigarettes and knew she was crying. She hated crying. Potter seemed to hate it, too. "Fuckin' lead me on just to see it and throw me off with all the other fuckers in Azkaban!"
"What? Jones, you're reading into this too much!" Potter shook his head frantically. Indiana, she thought desperately. Please just call me Indiana. "That's — that's not at all what this was! I swear!"
"Oh yeah? Then why the ruddy hell have you been lookin' at my left arm during sessions with Granger?" Indiana accused, stepping forward towards him, eyes blazing. "Huh? You had no trouble huntin' after Draco in sixth year — movin' onto the next Death Eater in sight, huh?"
"Jones, listen to me —"
"Stop fuckin' calling me that!" She raged, slamming a fist down on the closed lockers with a loud bang; Potter visibly flinched backwards, his eyes bulging. "God, I am so fucking over this! I am so over you! Jesus fuck!"
"Jones — Jones, come on —" Potter continued to follow her as she stormed across the Commons making a beeline for the doors, not bothering to care about changing out of her Quidditch jersey. "Can't we just talk about —?"
"No, Potter!" Indiana said brokenly. "Because this isn't j-just a tiny c-c-conversation! This is — this c-could —"
She couldn't breathe. She could barely speak. And Potter was just staring at her desperately with a puppy dog look in those stupid headturningly beautiful eyes of his and she couldn't fucking deal with him.
"Jones, please —" Potter grabbed ahold of her wrist as she walked away from him, the icy cold breeze of the Quidditch pitch slapping her in the face and whipping her hair in front of her face. When she turned around to tear her from his grasp, the wind tugged her hair back so it flew violently behind her head. Potter only stared at her weakly, his brows tilted upwards and his shoulders slumped. "That wasn't my intention, I swear."
"And how am I supposed to believe you?" Indiana dropped her shoulders as well, her voice quieter and her eyes purely sad. Potter gave her no response, his lips parting wordlessly. She swallowed, turning away from him. "Look, I — I gotta go... I have a game tomorrow..."
"I won't tell anyone about it," Potter told her quickly as she took another further away from him. "I promise, I won't tell anyone."
Why else would he have kissed her like that? Why else would he have gone this far with her? To mess with her? To get his first blowjob out of the way? To turn her in seemed the only believable option.
"Bye," was all she said, and even though he had reached out to her hand again, she let it go and walked back up to the castle alone.
SHE SPEAKS!
.... yeah... so... emotional rollercoaster over here!!
super nervous about publishing this chap so please comment your thoughts so i don't feel so nervy about it :)
thanks for all the recent love!!! also i saw my fic mentioned on a tikok and got so so so excited. i love you all so much omfg
- s <3