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“Harry, you’re going to catch flies if you keep staring like that.”
“I wasn’t staring,” Harry grumbled, snapping his gaze back to the plate of food in front of him.
It was the beginning of the term at Hogwarts, and it would be Harry’s second year teaching. While still in school, Harry could’ve never imagined himself shaping the next generations of witches and wizards. He’d had that little stint in fifth year, sure, but he was quite reluctant to indulge in Hermione’s plan in the first place.
However, after the harsh realisation that auror work just wasn’t for him, he received an offer from Headmistress Mcgonagall. Well, Minerva, as he was now allowed to refer to her as. He still hadn’t gotten used to it. Hogwarts needed a permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Minerva figured Harry would be the perfect fit for the position.
After much consideration and a lot of encouragement from Ron and Hermione, he took the position. To his surprise, he loved it. There’s something fulfilling about making sure his students receive a steadier and more consistent education than he had when he was still in school.
He fit in well with the rest of the staff members, and he had grown closer to Neville than ever before, considering his position as the Herbology Professor. Everything was going brilliantly, that was, until right now.
Slughorn officially retired after the end of last term, so the Potions position was open and ready for grabs. That would’ve been perfectly fine if a random potions master took up the post, Harry could’ve been civil and polite, and possibly even made a new friend in the long run.
That isn’t what happened, though.
The person who took up the position was none other than Draco Malfoy, the man who’d been poisoning his thoughts for the past seven years.
He could still recall it vividly, as though it’d happened only yesterday. Two grief stricken men, stripped down to their core by battles neither wanted to fight, fell into bed with one another after a night of drinking. Harry allowed Draco to take him apart piece by piece, let him push inside until the world narrowed down to just the two of them. It was mind numbing, life altering, and it left Harry craving for more.
However, just as fast as it started, it went downhill just as quickly. Draco detached himself from Harry only minutes after he finished, brushed off the way Harry reached for him and started to dress himself as though nothing had happened.
“You’re leaving?”
“This was a mistake, Potter. We shouldn’t have done this.”
“Wait—“
“No, Potter. I’m leaving. We will never speak of this again.”
Draco, refusing to make eye contact with Harry, finished buttoning up his top and apparated out of the room without even a single word. Harry was left in bed, still naked, with the searing reminder of Draco’s lips against his skin.
Years later, Harry never managed to scrub that night from his mind. He’d tried out other blokes, but it always fizzled out before it could even begin because it never felt the same.
And, now, here he was, sitting just a couple seats down from Harry at the staff table. He still looked just as insufferable as he did when they were still in school, but he now visibly held himself with an air of maturity that could only come from age. His robes were disgustingly extravagant, and they looked freshly steamed, not a singular wrinkle in sight. There was no visible product in his hair, but it dropped so artfully over his forehead that Harry briefly contemplated reaching over to strangle him. He looked… good. Not that Harry would admit that aloud, of course.
What was possibly the worst part was that Draco hadn’t spared Harry a singular glance that night, instead taking to exchanging pleasantries with the people nearest to him and indulging in the mouthwatering selection of food and drink.
“Ouch!” Harry exclaimed under his breath, rubbing the back of his head and sending what he hoped what was an intimidating glare in Neville’s direction. Neville, the Gryffindor he was, seemed unaffected by it. He had flicked Harry.
“You’re staring again.”
Harry grumbled about a whole lot of nothing before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
He escaped to his living quarters as soon as it was socially acceptable. Harry undressed quickly and hopped into the shower, the temperature near scalding as though it would burn away the conflicting thoughts raging within his head. And, no, he absolutely did not have a quick wank to the thought of Draco’s face.
The following day, Harry spent some time in the staff lounge reviewing the curriculum for his fourth years. He rarely stopped in the lounge, typically opting for his office or his quarters. However, the possibility of catching a glance of Draco was enough to adjust his routine.
Not that he cared. Of course.
His efforts were rewarded when Draco sauntered in to pour himself a cup of coffee. Initially, Harry was concerned that Draco would once again disregard his existence.
With that thought in mind, he nearly choked on his tea when Draco greeted him, his back still turned.
“Potter.” It was barely a greeting, if it could even be considered that. It was an acknowledgment, though, which was better than nothing.
Harry leaned against the back of his seat, his irritation spilling over before he could stop himself. “So, Malfoy, finally remembered I exist?”
Draco snapped his head over his shoulder so quickly that Harry briefly feared that he was about to be hexed. Thankfully, all he received was the twist of a snarl before he turned back to his coffee. “Don’t make this weird.”
“Weird?” Harry sat up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Draco scoffed, and Harry nearly swooned at the sound. There was something wrong with him, truly. “Don’t act dense, Potter.”
Before Harry could even formulate the words in his brain to respond, Draco was already gone, the door nearly slamming shut in his wake.
Harry groaned and slipped further down the chair, so far he nearly fell off. This was going to be a long year.
—
Harry settled into the new year easily. It was much simpler to get into the groove of teaching with a year of experience under his belt, and he was already impressed with the progress his students were making. There was just one thing that was bothering him.
Since the day before classes started, Draco hadn’t spoken a single word to him. There were a couple of times where their shoulders brushed against each other as they passed through the crowded halls, but even then, he didn’t even spare Harry so much as a glance. It was driving Harry a bit barmy.
So, this was how he found himself in one of the greenhouses with Neville as he worked.
“Has Malfoy spoken to you at all?” Harry asked, shrinking away from a plant that he couldn’t remember the name of that seemed a bit too curious about his presence.
“Yeah, not much, though,” Neville responded while slipping on a pair of dragon hide gloves. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” Harry grimaced when he realised just how fast he had said that. “I mean, I guess I just expected him to at least try to be a bit more friendly with a fellow Professor.” Harry thought he might have just made it worse. How rubbish.
Neville turned over his shoulder to look at Harry, his eyebrows raised with an expression of exasperation written all over his face. “Come on, mate. Do you wanna be friends with Malfoy or something? I thought you hated him.” Neville turned back around and began to collect bubotuber pus from the specimen he was working on. The smell quickly permeated the greenhouse. Harry scrunched his nose and pulled his robes over the lower half of his face. Neville seemed unaffected. He’s probably smelt worse.
“I do!” Harry exclaimed, which led to a snort from Neville. Clearly, he wasn’t being very convincing. “Um— how are your students this year?” It wasn’t a very subtle subject change, but it worked nonetheless.
Neville visibly lit up at the prospect of gushing about his students. He rambled about how his second years successfully repotted mandrakes without a singular person passing out. In all honesty, Harry had little interest in Herbology and by proxy, Neville’s curriculum, but it was pleasant to see his friend so proud of his students. He was a brilliant Professor.
An hour had passed when Harry and Neville said their goodbyes for the day. Harry walked through the quiet corridors with the intention of heading back to his quarters until dinner began. He clearly wasn’t paying much attention, because as he turned a corner he collided into someone so hard that he stumbled backwards.
“Sorry, I—,” Harry cut himself off when he righted his glasses and looked at just who he’d run into. It was Draco.
Draco looked shocked, but only for a moment, as soon after his face twisted into the sneer that he’d perfected over the years. “Watch where you’re going, Potter.” He sidestepped around Harry and almost turned the corner when something came over the latter.
“Wait!” He called. Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly, looking a mixture of confused and irritated. “Um.” How intelligent. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he’d been after when he stopped him in the first place, and he still wasn’t sure.
“Well?” Draco demanded, his arms crossed over his chest in indignation.
Harry shifted his weight from one leg to the other, suddenly finding the wall next to him to be exceptionally interesting. “Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Merlin, how old was he again?
Draco sneered. “You’re joking, right?”
Harry’s gaze finally snapped back to Draco. He looked irritated beyond belief, but it didn’t look like he was about to flee. That was good. “No, I’m not. Don’t you think it’d be good for us to be civil?”
“Civil? Yes. I don’t see how that means I need to spend time with you.”
The corner of Harry’s lip twitched. “Just… come to my quarters tomorrow at noon. Nothing weird, I’ll make tea.”
Before Draco could even begin to respond, Harry turned on his heel and fled. He felt like an inexperienced teenager all over again, asking out his crush and then running off to avoid the risk of rejection. He didn’t have a crush on Draco, of course, he was an adult and way too grown for those kinds of things. However, as much as he wanted to deny it, he still felt drawn to him. That night must have changed something in his brain chemistry, because his mind truly was consumed by Draco.
Harry fisted his hands into his hair as he rushed to his quarters. He was so bloody screwed.
The next day was a Sunday, which meant no classes. Thank Merlin for that, because Harry didn’t think he was capable of anything except pacing anxiously around the perimeter of his quarters, checking the time every minute without fail. There wasn’t a guarantee that Draco would show up. In fact, Harry figured it was more likely that he wouldn’t.
However, thanks to the fact that Harry had run off before Draco could confirm or deny, he had plausible deniability. He hoped Draco would come.
As noon drew closer, Harry shuffled over to his kitchenette to prepare tea as he promised. He silently filled his kettle with water using aquamenti, then flicked his wand towards the stove and watched as the burner stuttered to life. It was when he pulled his tin of earl grey out of the cabinet that a hesitant knock rang through his room. Despite its minimal volume, Harry still jumped.
He checked the time. It was exactly noon. Harry’s hands suddenly felt clammy.
Harry scrubbed his palms on his trousers as he headed over to the door. He opened it and came face to face with Draco. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of him. He was dressed a bit more casually than he typically did, and yet he still managed to make Harry feel underdressed.
He must have been staring, because Draco raised an eyebrow. “Hello?”
Harry couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work, but thankfully it was that moment that the kettle boiled. “Let me get that. Feel free to sit on the couch.” Harry scurried back over to the kitchenette to take the kettle off the burner. He flicked his wand to turn it off and watch Draco stiffly make his way to the couch out of the corner of his eye. “How do you take your tea?”
Draco sat down on the edge of the couch cushion, looking rigid as a statue. “Oh, one sugar, please.”
Harry hummed in acknowledgment and began preparing his tea as requested, his own following soon after. He carried the cups over to the couch and handed Draco his tea before sitting down, making sure to keep a respectable amount of space between the two of them.
Draco studied the tea for a moment before his gaze snapped to Harry’s, his grey eyes carrying a sharp flicker of an emotion that he couldn’t place. “Why did you invite me over?”
Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Why did you come?”
Draco rolled his eyes, but he seemed to relax a bit. “I asked you first.”
Harry took a purposefully drawn out sip of his tea as he wracked his mind for a response. Because, genuinely? Harry didn’t necessarily have a good reason to invite Draco over other than, “Hey, remember that time we shagged and it was amazing? Yeah, we should talk about that, probably.” He couldn’t imagine a universe in which that conversation would go well.
“You’re working here, now.”
“Brilliant observation, Potter.”
Harry frowned and sent a glare in Draco’s direction. Draco only smirked, clearly enjoying Harry’s floundering. “I just thought it’d be good to, you know, bury the hatchet? I guess?”
Draco finally took a sip from his tea, and Harry was unable to stop himself from staring at the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. He lowered the cup back to his lap, and Harry watched that intently as well. “I thought we already did that?” Draco’s words were laced with a sultry undertone that had Harry freezing, the grip on his mug tightening to the point where he was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“Um, well, you know…” Harry focused on the fireplace against the wall, his eyes following the small sparks the flames shot off every few seconds.
“Did we not?”
Harry blew at the rim of his tea, once again using the drink as a crutch while he gathered himself. “I thought we were never to speak of that again.”
Harry heard Draco shift next to him, but he refused to look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter.”
The way Draco said his name sent an involuntary shiver through his frame, the hairs on the nape of his neck raising. Harry smoothed a hand over his curls before finally turning his head towards Draco. His expression was unreadable. Harry felt desperate to change the subject. “How is the term going for you so far?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, but he relaxed into the couch fully and indulged Harry. “It’s going well. Teaching is easier then I expected it to be.”
“Really?” Harry unintentionally leaned closer to Draco, curiosity overtaking his previous nerves. Draco stiffened briefly, but he didn’t move away.
“Well, it’s not easy.” Draco took a sip from his cup. “I expected it to be an impossible task, but I’m doing better than I thought I would.”
Harry could feel the familiar tug of a teasing smile pull at his lips. “Wow, Malfoy is being honest with me? Have I died?”
Draco sneered, though it didn’t hold the same bite that it usually did. “I could leave right now, you know.” Draco moved to stand, but he froze when Harry placed a pleading hand on his shoulder.
“Wait, I was kidding!”
Draco’s sneer shifted into a conniving smirk, and Harry knew then that he’d been had. “I was, too.”
“You’re such a git,” Harry mumbled, even as the tension in his shoulders released once he knew Draco wasn’t actually planning on leaving.
Draco genuinely laughed at his insult, the sound wrapping around him and settling deep in his chest. “And, yet, you still invited me over for tea.”
It was Harry’s turn to laugh. Really, it was quite ridiculous, wasn’t it? He invited over his old arch-nemesis from school turned death eater turned once in a lifetime sexual partner. Even with that knowledge sitting heavily in the back of his mind, him and Draco began to converse semi normally.
Draco told Harry about how a first year managed to blow up their cauldron while attempting to make a Forgetfulness Potion. Harry said that they must be related to Seamus somehow, and both of them snorted at that. Harry told Draco how when his second years were practicing duelling, one of his students’ wands misfired and sent a Full Body-Bind Curse straight towards him. Despite being caught off guard, he was able to throw out a Shield Charm just in time, and the kid felt so terrible that he cried which appeased any suspicion of it being purposeful.
Even after their mugs were emptied and forgotten on the coffee table, they continued talking. It felt so odd, but at the same time, so natural. When Draco wasn’t intent on being an utter twat, he was actually brilliant company. He was charismatic, funny, and had a voice that Harry could listen to for hours.
He even briefly wondered if he could bury all of the strange feelings left behind from that night in favour of becoming a real friend to Draco. That thought was quickly tossed out the window when Draco tilted his head back while laughing at something Harry said, exposing the pale expanse of his neck that he found himself almost drooling at the sight of.
As the conversation began to slow down naturally, Draco suddenly became uncharacteristically nervous. His lips were set in a tight line and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands still.
“Alright?” Harry asked, uncurling himself from the comfortable position he had eventually ended up in.
“Yeah, I just… Merlin, I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but—“ Draco cut himself off to clear his throat. “I wanted to apologise for being a prat to you this term.”
Harry gawked for a moment, his gaze searching Draco’s wildly for any glimpse of dishonesty. He couldn’t find any, but he couldn’t help the teasing snark that fell out when he spoke. “Who are you and what have you done with Malfoy?” He leaned closer to Draco, squinting his eyes suspiciously from behind his round frames.
Draco shoved his shoulder and scowled, but it looked more similar to a frown. “I’m being serious, Potter.”
Harry paused, his lips caught on words that refused to come out. “Really?” He finally managed to choke out, and he had the urge to stupefy himself due to how ridiculous he sounded.
Despite his own embarrassment, Draco seemed to relax a bit. “Yeah. It’d be no good for the students if two of their professors were at each other’s throats, right?”
Right. For the students.
Harry nodded jerkily. “Right, yeah.”
An awkward silence fell between them, the only sounds in the room being the crackle of the fireplace. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest. “Well, thank you.”
Draco’s following gaze was so fiery that Harry had to avert his own. “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.” His tone was teasing, but it couldn’t fully hide the weight behind his words.
Harry smirked. “And I never thought I’d hear you apologise to me.”
Draco chuckled, and with that, the tense atmosphere vanished with the warm timbre of his amusement. “I’m a changed man, Potter.”
“You could have fooled me.” Harry was entirely joking, and it seemed Draco got the memo as well. Harry was no fool. To assume that Draco hadn’t changed at all from his days as a student would be an idiotic assumption. Sure, he was still a bit of a prat, but Harry figured that came with the territory of being a Malfoy. He was softer now, less rough around the edges.
And Harry, well, he was utterly fucked.
—
A couple of weeks later, Harry found himself in his office well into the evening. He was busy grading essays he’d assigned to his third years, twelve inches of parchment on how to identify and protect yourself from Vampires. He despised grading essays. If it weren’t required as apart of his curriculum, he’d never assign them. He hated reading them just as much as his students hated writing them, but alas, it must be done.
A knock on the door of his classroom pulled him away from the paragraph he’d already reread three times at that point. Grateful for any sort of distraction, he stood and walked to the doorway of his office. “Come in!” He called, expecting a student to walk through with a question or two.
He nearly choked on his own tongue when Draco poked his head in. “Hi,” he greeted, still half outside of the door.
“Hi, um, what’s up?” He asked very intelligently.
Draco slid fully inside, clicking the door shut behind him. Harry was drawn to his hands, which were occupied by a full plate of food. Harry’s eyes trailed back up to Draco’s, a questioning look present on his face. “You missed dinner, so I just thought…” Draco’s voice trailed off, so he chose to instead lift the plate as though offering it to Harry.
Harry felt a pang in his heart. He gestured towards his office. “Come in, I have a sofa in here.”
Draco nodded and strode across the classroom, his long limbs making for a very distracting sight. Draco handed the plate to Harry before settling on the worn couch, and Harry pushed the essays out of the way to make room for his dinner. Once he settled in his seat, he noticed a slice of Treacle Tart in the corner of the plate, inconspicuous among the rest of his platter. “You know my favourite dessert?” Harry asked, ignoring the inkling of hope that sprouted deep in his chest.
Draco cleared his throat and turned to focus on Harry’s disorganised bookshelf. “It was a lucky guess,” he shrugged.
Harry smiled anyway. “Well, thank you.” He began to dig in, his stomach immediately beginning to settle once he got some sustenance down. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until he actually started to eat. “Oh! Do you want some tea?”
Draco shook his head before he pushed himself to stand. “No, I should probably get going.” He started towards the exit of his office, and Harry was on his feet before he could even think to stop himself. He crossed the small space of the room in an instant, a hand grasping at Draco’s wrist with a strength that even surprised himself.
Draco froze and turned around, once again with that fiery glimmer in his eyes. Harry realised that he was still holding onto Draco with a death grip, so he released him quickly as though he’d been burned and shook his hand out. “Why don’t you stay?” The words tumbled out quickly.
Draco’s eyes visibly widened for a moment before his mask of indifference washed over his features once more. He took a tentative step towards Harry, as if he were testing the waters. Harry didn’t back away, so Draco moved closer. Harry feared that he’d hear the way his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. “You want me to stay?” He asked, his voice lowered to a whisper, just for the two of them.
Harry nodded carefully, fearing that anything he did would break whatever was going on between them. His breath hitched when Draco traced his fingers underneath his jaw, hooking them under his chin to force his gaze on the latter. Harry shivered. “What- What are you—“
“It’s disgusting how pretty you are, Potter.”
His words, spoken so genuinely and straightforward, caused Harry to briefly lose control of his magic. He accidentally sent the parchments that he still had yet to finished grading flying into the air, falling slowly to the ground around his desk. This interruption seemed to snap Draco out of whatever trance he’d been in, because he straightened himself up and smoothed his hands over his robes.
“Go finish your dinner, I’ll see you later,” he said with a wave, turning around and leaving Harry stood in the middle of his office, dumbfounded.
“What the fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath, staring at the space where Draco had just occupied before turning to glare at the now scattered essays on the floor. With a flick of his wrist, he gathered them all and settled them back onto his desk. His food wasn’t finished, but he found that he no longer felt hungry.
—
They continued like this for a while, dancing around each other to the point where students were beginning to catch on. A bold seventh year asked Harry one day if him and Draco were together during class, and he only had half a mind to sputter out excuses before telling her to mind her business. The rest of the class laughed at his obvious embarrassment, and he ordered them to read out of their textbook for the remainder of the period, fearful that he may make a fool of himself again.
There were multiple occasions that had Harry floundering. Once was when he was walking across the grounds to clear his mind after a long day of teaching, and the frigid evening air had him shivering and wishing he’d remembered to grab a coat. It was Autumn, and while the temperature during the day was still pleasantly comfortable, once the sun dipped below the horizon it was an entirely different story.
Draco passed by him, unwound his scarf from around his shoulders and draped it over Harry’s before leaving. Harry stopped in his tracks, staring at Draco’s retreating figure while he subconsciously pulled the scarf closer to himself.
Another was when they found themselves walking next to each other while headed to the Great Hall. Draco placed a hand on the small of Harry’s back, practically guiding him towards the staff table. Harry’s ears burned as he sat down, and he had to force himself to not reach behind and touch where Draco’s searing hand had just been.
Then, there was Neville. He was infuriatingly intelligent, so he caught onto Harry’s strange behaviour almost immediately. He teased Harry relentlessly, urging the latter to let go of the secret that he was keeping under lock and key. He could tell that there was more to it than just a little of flirting, and Harry hated him for it. Not really.
It took a while, but he finally wore Harry down to the point of madness. “Malfoy and I shagged each other, okay?” Harry blurted out, nearly tipping over his half empty cup of tea in his panic.
Neville’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, but he cleared his throat and sat back in his armchair again. They were relaxing in the staff lounge, a strong privacy charm keeping their conversation to themselves. “When?” He demanded.
Harry visibly gulped. “Um, right after the war ended.”
“Oh.” Neville blinked. “Oh,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” was all Harry could manage to say in turn.
“Well? What happened afterwards?” Neville leaned forward in his seat again, curiosity winning over relaxation.
Harry shook his head. “Nothing. He left in a hurry and I didn’t see him again until he started working here.”
Neville seemed a bit shocked at that, but this time he didn’t nearly jump out of his seat. “That’s… interesting.”
“What do you mean?” It was Harry’s turn to demand.
Neville shrugged. “I don’t know anything, I mean, Malfoy only talks to me when it’s necessary.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’ve just seen the way he looks at you, you know? It’s a bit sickening.”
Harry felt as though he’d just been hit with a hex. He stood abruptly, forgetting his tea on the end table next to him. “I’m going to go find him.”
Neville snorted, waving Harry off with a hand. “Do whatever you want, mate. Keep me updated, though.”
Harry nodded before dispelling the privacy charm quickly, marching out of the room with determination he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was only when he entered the chilly corridors that it hit him: how was he supposed to find Draco?
Right. The Marauder’s Map.
He dug around his robes until he got hold of the old parchment. He always carried it around with him while on the grounds, whether he planned on using it or not. Spending years of his life sneaking around as a teen made him create such a habit.
Speaking of, he snuck around the corridor until he found himself in a space behind a tapestry that he knew not many knew of, staff and students alike. He touched his wand to the empty map and muttered the required incantation for it to come to life.
Harry unfolded the parchment as ink slowly began to crawl across the map, revealing everyone’s locations like clockwork. His eyes scanned it over at a near frantic pace, and he was reminded of the time in sixth year when he obsessed over Draco to near insanity. He shook his head quickly, as though he could physically jostle the thoughts out of his mind.
His stomach lurched when he finally caught sight of Draco. He was in his classroom. With his resolve renewed, he shut down the map and shoved both it and his wand back into his robes before rushing down to the dungeons.
He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to Draco. He’d come off a bit barmy if he used Neville’s suspicions as proof and they ended up being unfounded. Not only that, he’d likely lose the cautious friendship the two of them had began to build in the past couple weeks.
No matter. He wanted to see Draco.
Harry shivered when he entered the dungeons, the frigid air seeping through his clothing and chilling him to the bone. He pulled his robes closer to his body and kept going, only stopping when he came face to face with the door that would lead to Draco’s classroom.
He raised a fist, hesitated for a moment, then knocked twice. “It’s unlocked,” came Draco’s drawl from somewhere inside his classroom.
Harry pushed the door open and was met with quite the smell. Baked apples, an expensive cologne that seemed familiar but nothing that Harry would wear himself, and the slightest tinge of broom polish. He found Draco near the front of his classroom, carefully bottling the potion that must have been the source of the pleasant yet confusing smell.
“What are you brewing?” Harry asked, walking over to Draco without thinking to greet him.
Draco jumped as if he’d forgotten he welcomed anyone inside, but he quickly squared his shoulders. “Potter?”
“Yes, hi,” Harry replied. “What are you brewing? It smells good,” he repeated, stepping close enough so that he was next to Draco. The potion had a pearlescent sheen to it. Harry thinks he vaguely recalled a potion looking similar to it in school.
Draco smirked and he sent a knowing gaze in Harry’s direction. “Amortentia. I’m going over it with my sixth years next week, so I wanted to get it brewed now.”
“Ah.” Harry flushed, running a hand through his unruly curls anxiously.
“What do you smell?” Draco’s tone dropped a little lower, speaking in that way of his that Harry could only describe as sultry.
Harry shook his head aggressively. “Nothing that stands out to me,” he lied, and he knew immediately that it was obvious he was being untruthful by just how stiff he sounded. Draco leaned closer to him, and it was then that Harry recognised where the expensive cologne came from. It was Draco’s. The warmth on Harry’s cheeks spread to his ears. “What do you smell?” He asked, desperate to take the attention off of him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Draco turned to face Harry fully, his eyes lidded and a permanent teasing smirk playing on his lips.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I would.” His throat felt dry.
Draco’s smirk only grew and he closed the space between them, his lips brushing against the shell of Harry’s ear. Harry’s trousers suddenly felt a bit too tight. “Hm… I smell Treacle Tart, some sort of shampoo, I think it’s Lavender? And lastly, the scent of a freshly sanded broom.” His breath puffed against Harry’s ear as he spoke, and Harry couldn’t control the goosebumps that erupted on his skin. “Does that satisfy you?” Draco pulled away from Harry, yet they were still so close.
Harry ran his tongue over his lips, and he didn’t miss how Draco’s eyes followed it. He couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped the back of Draco’s neck and pulled him down, crashing their lips together with gusto. Draco froze against Harry’s frame momentarily, and he feared that he was about to get pushed off, but it didn’t take long for him to catch up and press his lips back against his.
Harry gasped into the kiss which Draco swallowed greedily, his hands snaking around his waist and pulling him flush against his body. Harry used his free hand to tangle his fingers into Draco’s surprisingly soft locks; they felt the same as they did all those years back.
Draco tilted his head to deepen it, his mouth moving hungrily against Harry’s in a way that felt claiming. Harry allowed Draco to lead the way, his head in the clouds after finally getting what he’d been craving. A nip against his lip had Harry’s mouth falling open on a soft moan, and Draco used this to his advantage to shove his tongue inside.
Draco bullied his leg inbetween Harry’s thighs, pressing against his already apparent arousal roughly. Harry moaned at this, his body shuddering against Draco’s as he began to grind helplessly against his thigh. He could feel the way Draco smirked against his lips before claiming them once more.
Harry couldn’t think. The smell of the Amortentia still permeated his nostrils and Draco was all over him, ruining him for anyone else before they’ve even truly began.
It was only when Harry was slammed against the nearby stone wall that he came back to his senses for a moment. “Wait— Wait, we need to talk about this,” he managed to say, even as Draco trailed searing kisses down the length of his neck.
Draco ignored him at first and scraped his teeth against the crook of his neck, where he was most sensitive. Harry nearly moaned at the knowledge that Draco could still recall what made him tick, after only one night of fucking that happened years ago. Harry came back to himself again, and he pushed at Draco’s chest until he detached himself. “Draco, we need to talk about this,” he panted.
Draco blinked at him, and Merlin, he looked otherworldly. “We can talk after, let me fuck you first.” His words shook Harry out of his reverie, and once they hit him his knees nearly buckled.
“Will you run this time?” Harry asked, unable to hide the fear that laced itself into his words.
Draco paused for a moment, to the point where Harry genuinely did think he was about to turn tail and leave again. His worries were assuaged though when he pressed a way too affectionate to be casual kiss against his temple. “No. I’m done running.”
Harry searched his face carefully, and once he was content, he smiled and flipped them around.
“Wha—?” Draco was unable to finish his question when Harry dropped to his knees, fingers digging into the waistband of his trousers.
“Let me suck you off,” Harry requested, looking up at Draco from underneath his lashes. He feel feel the way Draco shuddered against him.
“Merlin, Fuck, you’re so…” Draco’s voice trailed off as he fumbled to undo his belt and slide down his trousers. Harry’s mouth watered at the sight of his bulge within his boxer briefs. He pulled them down before Draco could, and only gave the latter enough time to toss them to the side before pressing his nose against the base of his half hard prick.
“Lock the doors,” Harry murmured, running a tongue against the underside of his prick before stroking him to full hardness, watching with rapt attention as he swelled in front of his eyes.
Despite Harry’s ministrations, Draco managed to wandlessly cast a locking charm and a silencing charm. He was so in control of his magic, even while compromised… Harry had to press the heel of his free hand against his still confined length, anything to ease the rapidly growing ache in his gut.
Harry then turned his full attention to Draco’s cock, sticking his tongue out to catch the drop of precum already forming at the tip. Draco gasped and buried his fingers in Harry’s hair, which only encouraged him further. He opened his mouth and suctioned his lips around the head, swirling his tongue around it in such a way that had Draco pulling at his curls even harder. Harry moaned, muffled by Draco’s prick, and the vibrations pulled another shudder out of him.
He relaxed his jaw, made sure to mind his teeth, then slowly began inching Draco’s length further into his mouth. Draco’s size was impressive, so Harry needed to be careful if he didn’t want to choke. Once he got nearly halfway down his cock, he wrapped a hand around the base and began to bob his head.
He looked up at Draco, watching as his head fell back against the wall and a low moan was pulled from his lungs thanks to Harry’s expertise. “So good, Harry,” he gasped out, his hips thrusting a bit into the warm heat of Harry’s mouth.
Harry groaned and sped up, taking a moment to drag his tongue against the side of his length and then swirl around his tip in the way he knew Draco liked. He was rewarded with a low moan and another harsh tug against his hair.
He then placed his hands on Draco’s hips and stopped moving, looking up and hoping that he would get the memo. Draco’s gaze shot down, his eyes widening at the sight of Harry’s swollen lips spread around his cock. He got the hint quickly, spreading his legs a bit more for extra leverage, tightening his grasp in Harry’s curls before thrusting into his mouth at a rapid pace.
Draco panted roughly as he used Harry’s mouth for pleasure, a bitten moan slipping out every now and then when Harry managed to use his tongue. Harry’s eyes rolled back and his grip on Draco’s hips tightened to a near painful degree, but the pain only seemed to embolden the latter, his hips pistoning in and out of his mouth at an impressive speed.
A groan bubbled at the back of Harry’s throat, and he nearly choked when Draco forced himself all the way in, his nose tickling at his blond pubes and his cock lodged deep in his throat. He forced his throat to relax and let Draco in, and the moan he was remunerated with nearly made him cum in his trousers.
After what felt like forever and Harry feared he would pass out from lack of oxygen, Draco pulled out of his mouth and pulled him to stand. Harry collapsed into Draco’s arms, his knees weak with arousal and from being in such an uncomfortable position for so long.
“You’re perfect,” Draco muttered, thumbing along Harry’s swollen and spit covered lower lip. Without thinking, he sucked the digit in and swirled his tongue around it. “Merlin, Harry. I’m going to fuck now you.”
Harry released his thumb with a pop. “Gods, yes, please,” he practically begged, his voice hoarse from the aggressive way Draco fucked his mouth.
Draco began to push Harry towards his desk, and he went without fight. His mind already felt like mush, high off of nothing but the way it felt to have Draco’s cock buried in his throat. He allowed Draco to shrug off his robes and then pull off his top, keening when he thumbed at his nipples and then pinched them delicately.
Harry toed off his shoes before Draco tugged his trousers and pants down in one go, shuddering as the chill of the dungeon classroom finally hit him. Draco smirked but didnt say anything. He unbuttoned his shirt with agile fingers and let it fall to the floor. Harry stared at Draco’s chest stupidly. He was lean, but his muscles rippled under his skin with every movement. It was the build typical of a former Seeker, similar to Harry’s own yet somehow so much more impressive.
Harry might be biased.
He yelped when the back of his thighs hit Draco’s desk. Draco spelled away everything in the way and then placed a palm on Harry’s chest, pushing him until he lay flat against the dark wood. “Cold,” Harry complained, his back arching in an attempt to get away from the icy surface and closer to the warmth that Draco radiated.
Draco kept his hand on Harry’s chest, pressing down until he flattened out again. He leaned over Harry’s form and licked a stripe up the length of his neck before sucking a mark against the underside of his jaw. Harry gasped, clapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to retain some sort of dignity.
Draco grasped Harry’s wrist tightly and pressed it against the desk, leaving him entirely exposed. “Let me hear you.” He punctuated his words by nipping at the lobe of Harry’s ear. Harry squirmed underneath Draco, but he was truly exactly where he wanted to be.
With his free hand, Draco tapped at Harry’s thigh. “Spread your legs for me, darling.” The petname caused the pool of heat in Harry’s abdomen to grow to dangerous levels, threatening to overtake his very being. He did as told after he was sure he wasn’t going to come on the spot, sliding his hands underneath his knees and pulling his thighs up to his chest.
Draco aimed a couple of necessary spells towards Harry’s arse, the tingle of his magic washing over his underside causing his cock to twitch. Harry watched Draco as well as he could from his angle. His lower lip looked near bloody, he practically bit through it to keep himself quiet when Harry was sucking him off. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was tousled by Harry’s own doing, and his pupils were so blown out that the typical grey of his eyes were barely visible. Harry wanted to devour him. Or, he wanted Draco to devour him. Yeah. He wanted that.
He was ripped out of his thoughts when he felt a slick finger brush against his rim. His breath hitched, and he subconsciously pressed his hips down to meet it. Draco smirked. There was little resistance when he finally pressed in, and Draco seemed to realise this, because he pulled out and lined up a second one without warning.
Harry let out a shuddering breath and he pulled his thighs closer to his chest when Draco slid his fingers back in. The stretch stung, but it edged on something so brilliant that Harry feared he may drown in it.
“You’re so tight,” Draco whispered, leaning over Harry’s form to press a kiss against the corner of his lips. Harry whimpered when Draco scissored his fingers, letting go of his legs in favour of wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders and slamming their lips back together.
Draco groaned into the kiss and he began to slowly thrust his fingers in and out of Harry; he stopped every couple of seconds to spread his fingers and then scoop them upwards as though searching for something. He pulled away from Harry’s lips when he found it, pressing his fingers against it roughly— Harry’s eyes shot open as an embarrassingly loud moan was punched out of his lungs, his back arching off of the desk as his fingers dug into Draco’s shoulders.
“That’s it, darling,” Draco encouraged, adjusting the angle of his fingers so he could abuse the sensitive gland without reprieved. Harry practically sobbed at the stimulation, wrapping his legs around Draco’s trim waist to try and steady them. They were trembling.
“Please, Draco,” He begged, one of his hands fisting in his own hair and tugging harshly.
“Please, what?” He asked, voice steady as though he weren’t three knuckles deep inside of Harry.
Harry jumped when Draco rubbed at his prostate in a particularly rough manner, his eyebrows pinching with the effort to stay above the surface. “Need you inside,” he finally forced out, breathy and desperate.
“Fuck,” Draco grit out, composure quickly coming undone before Harry’s eyes. It was an addicting sight.
Harry whined when Draco removed his fingers, his entrance clenching around nothing. His gaze was pulled towards Draco’s cock, nearly drooling as he watched him stroke himself generously, slicking himself up with his own precum and leftover lube. His eyes trailed up Draco’s body, stopping when they made intense eye contact. It had been a long time since Draco had directed that look towards Harry, the one that made it seem like he never wanted to let him go. Harry shuddered.
“You ready, Harry?” Draco asked, hooking a hand under one of his thighs and using his other to line himself up with Harry’s entrance.
“Merlin, yes, I need you now,” Harry demanded, wiggling his hips in an effort to get Draco to just move.
Draco tsked. “So impatient,” he scolded, even as he readied himself, the head of his cock brushing against his rim in a teasing manner.
Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco to hurry up, but his words were promptly cut off with a stuttered gasp when he finally began to press inside. The stretch was incomprehensible. Harry thought he should have made Draco use a third finger before doing this, but… he also was the one who begged for it.
It felt like Draco was claiming him from the inside out. Even at this stage, Harry was struggling to comprehend where he ended and where Draco began.
Draco was slow, pulling out a little before thrusting in just a bit further. His eyebrows were pinched together and his lips were parted, it was clear he was struggling to keep himself together.
After what felt like ages, Draco’s hips finally became flush with Harry’s. Harry panted and threw his arms around Draco to pull him closer.
“You okay?” Draco asked breathily. He pressed open mouthed kisses against Harry’s neck, pausing for a moment at the mark he left earlier. The pleasant sensation did well to distract Harry from the intense ache in his lower half.
“Yeah, just- just give me a second,” Harry responded, his voice nearly unrecognisable to his usual tone. Draco nodded against his neck and took to sucking another mark into his tanned skin, pulling a low moan out of Harry in reply.
Before long, the burn began to fade, leaving Harry feeling only brilliantly stuffed. He wiggled his hips experimentally, gasping at the feeling of Draco’s cock shifting inside of him. “You can move now,” he panted, lifting his hips in a silent ask for more.
Draco pulled himself out of the crook of Harry’s neck and planted his free hand on the desk. He pulled out until only the head was inside before snapping his hips forwards, burying himself within Harry’s warmth once more. Harry gasped and Draco hissed in tandem.
Draco set a brutal pace afterwards, the sound of skin upon skin echoing throughout the room. Harry was quickly reduced to babbling near nonsense, as though his brain had been promptly fucked out of him. “Merlin, I missed this,” Draco groaned, stopping deep inside to roll his hips against Harry before resuming.
Harry’s back arched off the desk and he scrambled at Draco’s back for purchase, digging his nails in so harshly that they were sure to leave marks. Draco groaned but only seemed encouraged by the sting, adjusting the angle of his hips until he was hitting Harry’s prostate with every thrust.
“Fuck!” Harry cried out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “So good, so good,” he got out in-between moans.
“You take me so— Merlin, well,” Draco praised. “It’s like you were made for this.”
Harry keened at his words. He wrapped his free leg around Draco’s waist and pulled him closer. Any space between them was too much space. “Please, Draco,” he begged, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he even needed.
Draco seemed to know Harry better than he did himself, because he let go of his thigh in favour of snaking a hand inbetween them to grasp his weeping prick. Harry practically sobbed at the added pleasure, torn between lifting his hips to get more from Draco’s hand or pushing them down to meet his thrusts.
Draco jerked Harry off clumsily, mainly using the momentum from his hips to slide his hand up and down. Harry couldn’t think. His mind was filled with nothing but Draco and the way he fucked him as though the world were ending.
Draco’s thrusts began to grow jerkier, his rhythm gradually falling apart as he came closer to the edge. “I’m gonna come inside,” he gasped out, his moans becoming less disguised as his composure fell apart.
“Fuck, please,” Harry begged. He could feel the tight coil within him threatening to unravel, teetering on the precipice of something brilliant.
Draco groaned and thrust once, twice, before releasing inside of Harry with a shuddering moan. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he rode out his high, and he took to sinking his teeth into Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to keep himself grounded.
The sharp pain that bloomed from his shoulder and the sensation of Draco filling him up was all it took for Harry to tumble over the edge. He came with a sob that sounded something like Draco’s name, his nails sliding down his back as his spend spilled over their chests.
Draco soothed the bite with a kiss as Harry came down from his high, murmuring praises into his skin as he slipped out of his sensitive entrance. Harry whined at the loss, though the sensation of Draco’s come dripping out of him shut him up almost immediately.
Harry’s chest heaved with exhilaration as he allowed Draco to gather him up in his arms. He ended up situated in his lap on his desk chair, which was a bit too small for two grown adult men but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care when he was floating above the clouds.
Draco traced soothing circles into Harry’s back, smiling against his curls when Harry cuddled further into him. “You really aren’t going to leave?” He asked, pulling his head out of the crook of Draco’s shoulder.
Draco pushed Harry’s damp curls away from his forehead and smiled at him in such a way that he feared he would melt. “No, I’m not. You know… I left all those years ago because I was scared.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised. “You were scared?”
“I mean, The Chosen One with an Ex-Death Eater? That’s barmy.” Draco’s tone was teasing, but Harry could see the genuine worry behind his words.
“You aren’t your past, Draco,” Harry whispered. He cupped Draco’s cheeks gently and leaned in. He studied his face for a moment, looking for any hesitation, and when he didn’t find any he closed the distance between them.
The kiss was much less desperate than their first, but it still belied the same passion as before. Harry tangled his hands into Draco’s hair, tugging him impossibly closer. Draco’s hands slid down to Harry’s arse and he squeezed at the surprisingly plump flesh. Harry’s spent prick gave a valiant twitch in response.
“Let’s give us a shot?” Harry whispered against Draco’s lips.
“Us together is a disaster waiting to happen,” Draco responded, but he didn’t move away from Harry.
“Mm, I like that.” Harry kissed Draco again, and was delighted when Draco pressed back with just as much affection.
Harry mentally pat his past self on the back for taking the job at Hogwarts. It eventually led to this, so clearly, it was the right thing to do.