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The Apparation crack is eaten up by the vibrant chaos of the carnival in which they land. There’s a whirlwind of neon lights, pulsing brassy music and the overwhelming scent of fried doughnuts and cotton candy.Harry’s face lights up at the towering ferris wheel, the colourful lights reflecting off his glasses. It’s dark outside, stars glinting above, and as Draco looks up, flashing lights and a subtle hues of orange and purple glow overhead.Appearing beside him first are Pansy and Luna, hand in hand, Luna’s sequin dress almost as offensively bright as the carnival lights. Seconds later, Ron and Hermione appear effortlessly, followed by Blaise, Theo and Neville.“Excited, Draco?” Pansy asks, her voice laced with amusement.Draco sneers. “I’d rather snog a Dementor.”Pansy laughs boldly, then marches past, brushing Draco’s shoulder as she goes. Luna skips along beside her, talking dreamily about wanting to visit the fortune teller's tent.Blaise pats Draco heartily on the back, enough to shove him forward. “Bet you’re having regrets now, aren’t you?”“Just a tad,” Draco sighs, chest sinking.They spend an hour wandering around the carnival. Harry drags Draco reluctantly onto the carousel and the fun slide, before trying their luck at the ring toss and balloon darts. They snog in the fun house, then attempt to get into each other's pants in the mirror maze, until their reflections are caught by Ron threatening to barf in his mouth, and the steward throws them out.But none of that stops the dread curdling in Draco’s gut. Because they’re not here just for fun—he’s here to pay the price for a lost bet.He shouldn’t have made it. He knows that now. He got cocky, let his big, stupid ego take the reins, and now he’s facing the humiliating consequences."Loser gets a forfeit," he’d declared last week at the edge of the Quidditch pitch. "Loser gets shamed in front of everyone."Harry, the smug little shit, had agreed without hesitation—had barely even blinked—before taking to the air and showing off, weaving and darting with infuriating ease. Eighteen minutes later, he landed with the Snitch clutched triumphantly in his sweaty palm.Draco’s heart had slammed against his ribs. He’d grumbled, groaned, shot pleading looks at Harry in the hopes of a merciful forfeit—maybe a garish pink perm, a week under Veritaserum, even parading the halls in a miniskirt.But no. His friends had chosen something far, far worse.“It’s just a bit of fun,” Harry murmurs, turning into Draco’s chest to press a kiss to his forehead. His eyes are kind, reassuring, and for a fleeting moment, Draco’s dread eases. “Everyone gets a laugh, and then it’s over. You move on.”“It’ll be mortifying,” Draco mutters, casting a wary glance at the gathering crowd, already buzzing with anticipation.“Then show them you’re up for a laugh.” Harry pinches Draco’s chin, guiding him into a kiss—soft, coaxing. “Show them you’re a good sport.”Draco huffs. “Or, hear me out—you could’ve let me win instead.”Harry grins, unapologetic. “And pass up the chance to see you suffer? Never.” He pulls Draco in for a proper snog this time, deep and lingering, before drawing back, lips slick and smug. “I love you, Draco, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. But you’ve been a snarky little shit all season—illegal moves, sending Katie Bell to the hospital wing…” He brushes a thumb over Draco’s jaw, voice dripping with amusement. “You deserve this, darling.”Following Harry’s outstretched hand, Draco trudges toward the site of his impending humiliation: the medieval stocks. A classic punishment, and painfully fitting. The contraption is built into a makeshift booth, with wooden panels on either side and a small door at the back, and painted on the wood above the face and wrist holes are the words “Aim Here!”. A crowd has already gathered—classmates, teammates, far too many familiar faces.Draco groans. “Hex me instead, Potter. Anything but this.”“But then I wouldn’t get to see you all… wet.” Harry dips close, nipping at Draco’s earlobe.Draco exhales sharply, scowling. “I just fixed my hair! And these clothes are brand new.”Harry only smirks. “And later, I’m going to ruin your hair anyway.” His fingers trail just lightly enough over Draco’s hip to make him shiver. “Not to mention strip those fancy clothes right off you.” He leans in, dropping his voice to a sinful whisper. “Consider this foreplay, Draco. Now, be a good boy and take your punishment.”Draco softly whines, cheeks flaming. He enjoys being a good boy, especially for Harry, and he’s taken plenty of ‘punishments’ in the past, but this…He swallows hard and tries to ignore the subtle twitch of his cock, but Harry just grins and delivers a firm pat to his arse, nudging him toward the booth. The walk of shame begins.Draco swings the door open, steps inside, and shuts it behind him with a quiet click. For a brief moment, he lingers—internally screaming—before exhaling sharply and lowering himself into position. His wrists slide through the smaller holes, his neck through the center, and then—clunk. The stocks lock into place, the cold bite of metal pressing firm against his skin.The reaction is immediate. Whoops and cheers erupt from the crowd in front of him, a sea of far-too-eager faces.“Oh, look at him!” Pansy coos. “His face is pink already.”Laughter swells. Draco scowls, jaw tight, throat bobbing against the wood.“You really shouldn’t have made that bet,” Blaise singsongs, enjoying himself far too much.Theo steps forward, brandishing a wooden bucket in one hand, a soaked sponge dripping in the other. He grins. “Any last words?”Draco holds his breath, heart hammering against his ribs. His gaze flicks to Harry—who winks—and he gathers the last shred of his dignity just to grit out, “You can all go fu—ugh!”A drenched sponge smacks him square in the face, a cascade of cold water splashing everywhere.The crowd erupts.Draco gasps, blinking rapidly, water streaming down his nose and chin. Instinctively, he tries to wipe his face, but the restraints hold firm. He jerks against them, then exhales sharply, resigned to his fate—locked up, a proper laughingstock, a fool suffering through his own humiliating wager.Before he can even think, another sponge lands against his cheek with a wet thwack. The water reeks—old, murky, probably from the bloody lake—and he groans as laughter rings in his ears.Pansy is grinning ear to ear, Luna looking mildly shocked—but not enough to intervene. Blaise, Theo, and Longbottom clutch their stomachs, howling with laughter as they scramble for more soaked sponges. Even Granger looks amused, and bloody Weasley wears the expression of a man who’s just won a thousand Galleons.Harry, though—Harry is smirking, biting his lip, one eyebrow raised.He looks ready to pounce.Four sponges later—another round of cheers, jeers, and Draco’s mounting humiliation—the door behind the booth creaks open, then clicks shut. He feels the shift of footsteps, the faintest stir of movement behind him. Then—a body presses in close, hips brushing against his, warm hands sliding around his waist.“Who’s there?” Draco grunts, squinting through dripping lashes. Another sponge bounces off his forehead, water trickling down his face. He jerks at the restraints, but they hold firm.A hand—warm, bold—palms at his limp cock.“Harry?” His breath hitches. “Please tell me that’s you.” He blinks, vision blurred from water, scanning the crowd. Harry is nowhere to be seen. And there’s no way in hell he’d miss watching Draco’s public humiliation—not when he’s been smirking at his suffering all evening.“Harry?” His voice wavers. “Harry, answer me—”Another sponge, then everything goes oddly quiet before Theo upends the entire bucket over him, and the crowd erupts.Draco gasps, then lets out a pathetic, undignified whine.The hand grips him firmer now, slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, fingers searing against his skin—hot and wet, slick from the sponge water. They curl around his cock, teasing, coaxing it awake, stroking slow and deliberate. A bolt of heat shoots up Draco’s spine as the body behind him presses in—hips flush to his arse, thighs bracketing his legs, trapping him.Another sponge smacks against his face, water splattering down his neck, crawling under his shirt. And then—fuck—in the same breath, his jeans and boxers are yanked down in one swift, merciless motion. Cool air rushes over his exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his spine.He shudders violently, his breath catching—humiliation burning through him, but so does something else, something worse. His cock stirs against his will, traitorous and aching, and the horror of it only makes his stomach tighten further.Draco sucks in a sharp breath, fuckfuckfuck! To the gathered crowd—laughing, cheering, pelting him with sponges—it’s nothing more than his embarrassment spilling over. They don’t know. Only his flushed face and trembling hands are on display. The rest of him? At the mercy of Harry—his cock being fondled, arse being groped, and he’s helpless to it all."Cold and wet, are we?" Weasley teases, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "Had enough of this mucky pond water?"Pansy smirks. "I think it’s time we gave him something... more exciting." The group erupts in cheers.With a flick of her wand, a dozen cream pies appear in front of them, their thick fillings gleaming. Draco’s chest slams as he realizes his fate. He shakes his head, desperate. "No… Not pies… No way!"Pansy pouts, then picks up a pie, dipping her fingers into the creamy filling. She licks them slowly, savoring the taste. "What’s wrong?" she grins. "Not a fan?"Theo joins Pansy, grabbing a pie and balancing it in one hand. “Don’t be a brat, Draco. You do love sweet things.”“Not this…” Draco pleads, his heart hammering against the booth. “Give me more sponges, I can handle the sponges, just please… Nothing messy.”“Nothing messy?” Katie laughs. “You knocked Angelina off her broom just for getting a bit of mud on your kit! You deserve to be messy.”Granger picks up a pie of her own. “Besides, you lost the bet, Draco. Cheaters pay the price.”Weasley grins, loading up his pie. “Exactly. You think sneaky tactics come without consequences?”Draco’s eyes widen, his stomach dropping. “You really don’t have to—”“Oh, we do,” Pansy interrupts, her smile darkening. "New Quidditch rule: In this game, you either play fair... or you get pie.”Draco shakes his head, begging, pleading for mercy. He strains so hard against the neck and wrist restraints but it’s no use, he’s trapped, on display and awaiting the most horrifying public humiliation of his life and to make matters worse, he’s getting hot and flustered from his cock and arse on full display behind the booth wall.The body behind him gropes at his bare arse, then smacks it a few times with one hand, the other still playing with his rapidly hardening dick. He knows it’s Harry. He could recognise the pattern of his touch anywhere, that soft caress embodied under his skin like a scent.His legs are nudged apart by Harry’s knees, and then something wet hits his fluttering hole—Harry’s spit.Draco whines, desperate to keep his face from showing pleasure to the crowd.“Harry… Harr—uh—fuck,” Draco mutters, his cock hard and aching in Harry’s palm. He tries to turn his head, catch a glimpse of Harry using him like a helpless, exposed fuck toy, but it’s no use. “Harry…”“What flavor would you like first, Draco?” Pansy asks sweetly. “We’ve got cherry, banana cream, caramel, custard... take your pick.”Draco doesn’t answer. He whimpers, a dry sob escaping his knotted throat while his cock pulses a load of precome between his spread-apart thighs.“No answer?” Pansy tilts her head teasingly. “Okay!”She launches her pie. It collides with Draco’s desperate, scrunched up face with an explosion of cream and cherry filling at the same moment Harry’s spit-soaked finger is pushed into his arse.Draco cries out, his body tensing up as Harry’s fingers work him deep. He lets out a strangled gasp as the cold, sticky cream and gloppy cherry filling slide down his face in slow, disgusting trails. His mouth falls open in disbelief, as the eruption of laughter and cheers echo in his ears, arousal, desperation, humiliation all flooding him at once.And worst of all? His cock throbs. He feels the pulse of precome dribbling down his shaft, smeared by Harry’s fingers in gentle, guiding strokes while his arse is played with, teased from both ends, the double stimulation short-circuiting his brain.The sting of cream clouds his vision as he blinks his eyes open, and when he sees all their grinning faces, he wants to die. He could cry, and each and every dry, wrecked sob is laced with a pathetic little mewl as Harry fucks with him from behind.Harry’s finger pushes deep, then curls and jabs and slowly pulls out of him, and just as a second finger breaches his hole, Blaise steps forward, launching a banana cream pie with perfect precision.It splatters directly into Draco’s already drenched face. A thick layer of whipped cream smears up his cheek and over his hair as banana pie guts plop onto the ground below. He whines loudly, Harry’s fingers now thrusting deep into him.“Harry—” he murmurs, “Harry—uhh—please—”“Shhh, darling, you’re clearly loving this,” comes Harry’s smooth, sultry voice from behind the booth wall. “Who’d have thought you’d get so hard over a bit of dessert?”“It’s not the fucking pies!” Draco hisses, hushed enough for only Harry to hear. “It’s you… playing with me… teasing me…”Harry masks a tsk noise. “I think someone’s got a humiliation kink.”“Absolutely not, I—fucking hell—”Draco doesn’t have time to protest. Another pie crashes into his face, plunging him into a thick, cold darkness. The custard reeks, its slimy texture dripping off his nose and chin. He stifles a muffled cry beneath the heavy layer of filling, shrinking inside at the sound of his friends' laughter echoing around him. He can only imagine how much of a fool he must look. He’s humiliated, and hard, and Harry’s just spit on his arse, two fucking fingers now turned into three.“Oh, he’s hating this! Listen to him whining!” says Pansy.He could cry. He is crying—overwhelmed by the mess, Harry wanking and fingering him simultaneously, and the fact that he’ll never live this down for as long as he lives.Another pie misses but hits his hand instead, covering his fingers in a gloopy mess. He wriggles them to shove the cream off, but why even bother now? His dignity is in shreds.“Harry…” Draco whimpers, his cock throbbing in the snug fit of Harry’s hot palm.He’s desperate to be freed, but can’t help bathing in the filthy, fucked-up bliss of being nothing more than a plaything for Harry to use. He whines softly as a mixture of spit and juices crawl down his inner thigh, and for a brief moment, he wishes it were cream down there instead.What a feast Harry would have.“Are you enjoying this, Draco?” Theo asks amusedly.“Just listen to the bloody moans he’s making!” Weasley adds.Draco wants to smack him sideways.A snarky comeback is on the tip of Draco’s tongue when another creamy pie splats against his face, earning an elated cheer from the crowd. This time it’s caramel—sticky, gooey, and even more revolting than the last. Draco groans in disgust, but his groan lifts several octaves as Harry pulls his fingers out, spits on his slick hole, then pushes his tongue in.“Fucking fuck!” Draco cries.“Oh, he’s loving this,” Blaise chortles.Yes. He’s loving Harry’s hot, wet tongue fucking into his needy, pliant arsehole. He squirms and arches his hips, then pushes back greedily against Harry’s mouth, gasping, head hanging through the face hole like a ragdoll.“It’s not you lot, you insufferable cretins!” Draco grits out, “It’s Harr—”In a flash, Harry’s tongue pulls out. “Hush, darling. No sharing our little secret now…” He swats Draco’s arse for good measure as Draco shudders and sobs quietly.“Cretins?” Weasley repeats. “When are you gonna learn some manners?”Another pie comes, this time, upturned on what used to be his perfect hair. He should be used to it by now, but the shock still hits him hard. The thick, gooey filling splatters down his features, and the accuracy of their aim is infuriating—these pies must be enchanted to hit him spot on. The crowd erupts into cheers, clapping and laughing as he stands there, helpless, drenched in mess from all sides while the pie tin slowly slides off his head and clatters on the ground. Draco sputters, shaking his head, his mouth agape in shock. His chest heaves with frustration as the remnants of the pie drip down his face while Harry grabs his hips, lines himself up and hovers the tip of his dick against Draco’s stretched, slick entrance.“You want my cock?” Harry whispersDraco quietly sobs. He nods feverishly, muttering out, “Uh-huh.”“You think you deserve it?”“After all I've endured this evening, yes!”“Now, now, Draco. You have to ask nicely.”Draco whines, resigned and desperate, legs too tired to hold him up any longer, face burning under the weight of shame and cream and tears.“Please…”“Louder, darling.”“Please…”“Look! He’s begging for it!” cries Longbottom.“Wait—” Draco’s attention shoots back to the crowd. “Wait, no… I wasn’t… that wasn’t—ahh.”The head of Harry’s cock presses against his aching hole as Blaise steps right up to the booth, hovering the pie under Draco’s chin.“You said please,” Blaise says. “You were begging. You do want this.”Defeated, helpless in proving himself, Draco sighs, his breath trembling from the tease of Harry’s cock. He wants it, wants it so badly he could sob. He wants to be filled and used, tugging against the restraints while Harry fucks him senseless. He wants to be nothing more than a gaping hole. He feels like a prize slut, and the pies? Well, the pies, he loathes. But the humiliation… The sound of people—his friends—laughing at him, watching him come undone, serving up his degradation as a spectacle for all to see.“I’ve had more than enough dessert for my liking. I was simply—mmph!”Blaise pushes the pie into Draco’s face and smears it around with excruciating slowness, but thank Merlin, because it smothers the tearing cry Draco makes as Harry thrusts his cock deep into Draco’s arse.Fire spears through him, Harry’s cock is tight against the walls of his arse as he begins to slowly thrust, jerking Draco gently. But it goes unnoticed by the others, who assume Draco’s subtle movements are from Draco tugging against the restraints in an attempt to be freed.Draco sobs brokenly into the abyss of cream. He’s a mess in all senses of the word and beyond caring anymore. Harry fucks him hard against the booth wall, and all he can do is take it. The sounds Harry makes are filthy, muttered curses and hitched gasps as he grabs Draco’s hips and grinds down.“You’re a messy fucking whore, Draco Malfoy,” Harry growls. “A creamy fuck toy. My creamy fuck toy.”Draco shudders, spitting out cream and blinking through the mess. His vision is blurry, glazed over but visible enough to see his friends having the time of their lives, taking photos, pointing and laughing. He’s being railed and they’re clueless, assuming his cries are from disgust and humiliation… which they are… with the addition of Harry Potter’s cock filling and fucking him ruthlessly.“You’re not so perfect anymore, are you?” Harry breathes behind Draco’s ear, balls slapping against his cock.“I’m fucking ruined,” Draco murmurs. “Harry— fuck— you’re going to make me cum—”Harry makes a chuffed sound. “Good. I want you stewing in all your mess. I want everyone to see you climax and with a face full of cream pie and an arse full of my creamy cum.”“Fuck… Harry…. Please…” Draco’s cock throbs. Harry’s one hand is clenched around it, pumping it fiercely in time with his barrelling hips. The slick slapping sounds of skin fills the tiny booth, mingled with Harry’s hot, panting breaths. He licks and sucks up the back of Draco’s neck, planting kisses down his back.“Gods you’re so fucking hot—” Harry breaths out. “Such a cock slut— ngh— a fucking little cockslut getting railed with pies and dick, and you fucking love it, don’t you? You fucking love this, you greedy little whore.”“Pleeease—”“Please what?” Harry bites Draco’s shoulder, moaning gutturally before dragging his tongue up his neck. “Please what? Huh? Please fuck me, Harry? Please use me? Please tell me what a messy toy I am? Merlin—” He gasps wildly, pounding Draco at a furious pace, then leans in and teasingly whispers, “I can give you a cream pie, too.”Draco gasps, moans embarrassingly loud, and splutters as cream slides down his face. “I’m going to cum, Harry.”“Ah, not so fast. You’re going to cum only when the next pie hits you.”Draco cries out. It probably sounds erotic, but he doesn’t care. He’s brainless, limbs are liquid, dignity gone.“Please, I need to, I need it—”“Hold it or I’ll tear this booth down and show everyone what a pathetic slut you are. I’ll let everyone watch you get fucked.”“He’s beside himself, the poor dear,” Pansy’s voice rings out ahead. “Pity there’s only one pie left.”Thank Salazar. Draco’s mind races. He’s never thought he’d be wishing for another pie in the face, but right now? Right now, he needs it. He needs this release, this distraction. His body is a tense coil, desperate for relief, and he just needs to be freed from this torment.“A nice, thick, creamy one,” Pansy continues, holding the pie aloft for everyone to see as she takes her position, poised to strike.“Mmm, a nice thick, creamy load on your face,” Harry whispers. “Just like what’s going in your arse.”“Are you ready for this, Draco?” Pansy asks.Draco manages to lift his head, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, his body wrecked and trembling. Breathless, defeated, he can hardly muster a response.“Are you ready, darling?” Harry’s voice is a soft breath against the back of his neck, lips teasing the sensitive skin.“Please…” Draco gasps, voice raw with desperation.And then, it all happens at once.Pansy launches the pie, and as it hits him square in the face, he cums, spurting ropes of mess over Harry’s hand, down his thighs, and across the booth wall. Harry pumps Draco’s cock with beautiful whisperings of 'good boy', his other hand curled around Draco’s waist as he pulses his load deep into Draco’s arse.When he pulls out, cum dribbles down Draco’s legs, and Draco slumps as best as he can in the booth, smothered in cream pies, used and abused, a pathetic, wanton mess.By now, the crowd’s noise is a distant hum, muffled by the thick fog of humiliation clouding Draco’s mind. Their laughter, their whooping—it all fades as he stands there in the stocks, the mess of whipped cream and pie filling making him feel indistinguishable from the shame he’s buried under. It’s all a game to them. A joke.But through the haze of it all, one thing remains clear: Harry. Harry’s touch. Harry’s love. He longs for it—needs it—when he’s been reduced to nothing more than a spectacle, a thing for others to laugh at.As the world around him spins in mocking circles, the only thing that matters is the way Harry sees him, even now, in his lowest moment.He sobs quietly, rolling out the waves of his orgasm while his cock twitches and drools.“You did so well, darling,” Harry soothes. “My messy, beautiful fucktoy.”Harry kisses him on the back of the neck, his lips lingering in their press. His hands stroke gently over Draco’s back and hips, wrapping around him in a gentle hug as Draco sobers up from the high, pleasure slowly seeping away and replaced by Harry’s warmth.With a whoosh of a wand, his jeans are back up around his waist, his cock twitching softly in his pants. Harry kisses him on the shoulder, then steals one last squeeze of Draco’s arse before the door creaks open, and he slips away.There’s a metallic click behind Draco’s head, and as he shifts, he notices the restraints have loosened for his release. Retreating from his hold, wipes his eyes and face, and steps out the booth, dazed and strung-out, back towards the familiar, grinning faces of his friends.His orgasm still softly ripples through him, as does the humiliation. He scrapes the mess from his face and chucks it towards the ground, cream dripping off his fingertips as he holds his hands out either side of him.“Oh, bless his little face!” comes Pansy’s teasing tone.“You took that like a champ, mate,” Blaise adds, patting him heartily on the shoulder, then peeling his hand away and grimacing at the cream he’s touched.“Hey, sexy,” says Harry, still a little flushed, his eyes heavy with lust. He drags his finger through the cream on Draco’s cheek and sucks it off his fingers. “Cream suits you.”“Harry…” Draco leans in, until they’re almost hugging, whispering close to Harry’s ear. “I just… I just had an orgasm in front of my friends…”“In front of everyone,” Harry corrects, smirking deliciously. “You got publicly fucked, my darling.” He leans in, and Draco lets his mouth fall open into Harry’s kiss, feeling the curve of his smile as remnants of cream smears over his nose. “And I’d do it again. So you’d better behave at the next Quidditch match, or who knows what we'll do to you.”