Chapter Text
***
The castle looked the same. It was the first thing Harry noticed as he stood staring at the first place he had ever felt at home in. It was as if war had never torn through the ancient stone walls, as if it had been untouched by fire and curses and ruin.
He hadn’t ever considered the possibility of returning, he didn’t think it was in the cards for him.
But when the owl had arrived mid July, Harry had found himself considering it, feeling the weight of the choice heavy in his chest. Return and complete his NEWTs, or enter the Auror Training Programme? Harry had been promised a fast track, he could be a fully qualified Auror before the year was out. But it didn’t feel fair. It felt like cheating.
Ron had sworn to follow Harry in whatever he decided to do when they had finally talked about it, after spending two weeks ignoring each other when things with Ginny ended. Ron had been torn between thumping Harry for dumping his little sister and thanking him for it.
Kissing Ginny felt like kissing family and Harry couldn’t keep pretending it was love.
In the end, Harry chose to return. The pull of the castle was too strong to ignore. Not to mention the opportunity to have a normal school year was entirely too tempting to pass up. He was disappointed not to be spending the year back in Gryffindor Tower, however, because Professor McGonagall had informed the returning NEWT students that they would have their own common room. To encourage inter-house unity, she had said, as well as saving space, since enough of the students in Harry’s year had returned to warrant a whole common room to themselves.
“You coming, Harry?” Hermione’s gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts. Harry blinked, shifting his gaze from the imposing doors of the Main Entrance to look at his friends. Hermione was hand-in-hand with Ron and both of them were smiling at Harry in such a sympathetic way that it made his stomach flip. They’d never really stopped tiptoeing around Harry’s feelings, but 7 years of constant threat to his life would do that, he supposed.
Harry sighed, “Yeah..yeah, sorry. It just looks the same doesn’t it? As before.” He remarked, joining Hermione and Ron as they walked through the giant oak doors. Home his heart sang.
“This’ll be a good year, yeah mate?” Ron reassured him with a pat on his back.
“Yeah, of course. No drama.” Harry replied, having no idea that he’d be eating his words before the month was out.
*
Draco hadn’t ever expected to return to Hogwarts. The mark on his arm had felt like a death sentence at worst, a lengthy prison stay at best. The aftermath of the Dark Lord’s final downfall had passed by in a blur of Auror raids on his ancestral home, his mother and father being taken in for questioning, and only narrowly avoiding the ordeal himself due to claims of child endangerment and coercion.
Ultimately, Lucius Malfoy ended up in Azkaban while Draco and his mother were granted a full pardon from the Ministry after some new information about their involvement in saving Potter’s life came to light. Draco suspected that saint Potter himself had something to do with that new information being delivered to the Minister of Magic but he’d be damned if he was ever going to ask him. Or thank him. Even if the pardon had meant he was able to return to the castle he once called home and have a second chance at the life he had always wanted for himself.
Well almost.
There was the small matter of a marriage contract to Astoria Greengrass that his mother had forged his signature on while Draco had been otherwise occupied last year. He didn’t want it. But voiding a marriage contract wasn’t easy, he’d have to get Astoria to agree to it and it was unlikely that she would. She needed the union for the Malfoy fortune, to afford the research into her family’s blood curse.
“Draco…Come on, the feast will be starting soon.” Pansy Parkinson tugged on the sleeve of his robes just hard enough to jolt Draco from his thoughts. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had already gone on ahead, too absorbed in their own plans for the year to wait for Draco to stop reminiscing and feeling sorry for himself.
He knew he needed to get a grip, no one else cared that he felt like he should have died. That he didn’t know what to do with all this extra time he had been given or how to even start repenting for all the horror he stood by and allowed to happen, the horror he inflicted at times too. He didn’t feel like he even deserved to set foot inside Hogwarts after everything he did inside its walls.
Despite all of that, Draco forced himself to nod, setting his posture into that of the Malfoy Heir everyone had grown so used to seeing, and linked his arm through Pansy’s as they followed the other returning 8th years into the Great Hall.
Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed. The same four tables set in the same four rows dominated the space, the same house decorations hung proudly above each one. Slytherin. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Gryffindor. But the Professors sitting at the high table were different. The way the last of the afternoon sun shone through the repaired stained glass felt softer than the last time he’d seen it. The chatter around the vast space was joyful and excited.
It was a stark contrast to the last time Draco had been here.
Quietly, he slipped into place at the Slytherin table, Pansy on his right, Blaise on his left. He had intended on keeping his head down, half listening to the start of year announcements and the sorting ceremony, but a glint of light from the other end of the Great Hall caused his gaze to lift. Harry Potter. Mid-laugh at something Weasley had said, the candlelight above the Gryffindor table bouncing off the rim of his glasses in just the right way to annoy Draco’s peace.
*
It was a strange sensation, the feeling of being watched, and one that Harry was far too used to. He had hoped it would stop once the war did, that people would move on and forget all about The Boy Who Lived. Or, The Boy Who Lived Then Died Then Lived Again as George Weasley had decided to start calling him. Truthfully, Harry hadn’t really sought out crowds of people in the last few months and had pretty much spent all his time at The Burrow with the Weasley’s or at Grimmauld Place.
Being back at Hogwarts was going to take some adjustment after he’d spent what should have been his 7th year on the run and in hiding.
Harry was trying his best to stay present in the conversation with his friends, laughing when Ron made a joke and humouring Hermione’s musings about what the study material would be this year. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, it was probably paranoia he tried to tell himself. But it was hard to ignore and was starting to make his skin itch.
So he looked up.
It was almost instinctive, the way his eyes locked onto platinum blonde hair and dark green robes. Just a habit. He was certain. Morbid curiosity for the boy he’d had a rivalry with since the age of 11. There was nothing else to it.
And yet…and yet, Malfoy had already been looking at him. It was quick, Harry wouldn’t have noticed Malfoy’s eyes dart away if he wasn’t so finely tuned into the little details. That and the way he made himself look completely enamoured with whatever Pansy Parkinson was saying had Harry wondering just how long Malfoy had been watching him.
Harry hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted no drama this year. Was just one normal year at Hogwarts too much to ask for? Did it even exist? Harry wasn’t sure but he’d be damned if he was going to let whatever ulterior motive Malfoy had, ruin his chances for a boring school year.
***
September had gone by with no incident. Harry had settled into his NEWT classes, taken up Quidditch again, and even had time to discover a new love for exploding snap now that his free time wasn’t spent wondering where the next death threat was coming from.
Even sharing a common room and dorms with the other 8th years hadn’t been as awful as Ron had been catastrophising about all summer. In fact, their dorm was mostly the same as it had been in Gryffindor Tower. There was a mixture of cosy, plump armchairs perfect for curling up in with a book, and long leather couches with an array of colourful blankets by the fire. The decor was fairly neutral to all four houses, no clashing of house colours except for the four house crests hanging above the exit.
There were bookcases filled with relevant NEWT study materials, some more advanced texts too for those that desired them and an entire shelf dedicated to various games.
Professor McGonagall, while clearly wanting to encourage them all to use this as a social and study hub, had at least had the good sense not to put Gryffindor and Slytherin in the same bedrooms. Instead, they had a couple of Ravenclaws in with their usual gaggle of Gryffindor boys.
Of course, that wasn’t to say they didn’t see the Slytherins in the common room itself, and for the most part they’d been perfectly friendly, if a little distant at first. The rest of them had tried to amend that, for the good of House Unity and putting the war and prejudices behind them.
Hermione had offered to help Millicent Bulstrode with Transfiguration after their first big essay was set and to everyone’s surprise she’d accepted. This had led to Blaise offering to look over Ron’s Divination essay.
“Weasley, this is truly awful, were you dropped as an infant or have you always been this dense?”
“Shut it Zabini…McGonagall wouldn’t let me drop the subject…”
The common room became pretty cosy after that, like some invisible barrier had been broken and given them all permission to talk to each other. There was still the occasional snarky comment, but it was clear that whatever prejudices had separated them in the past didn’t run deep enough to matter anymore.
Harry still hadn’t really spoken to Malfoy, at least not in casual conversation. They still shared Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. They were civil, never exchanging more than a few words. Never about anything other than the subject at hand.
Malfoy still snorted in amusement whenever Harry messed up a step in his potions or prepared an ingredient wrong. He still seemed to have eyes on Harry in every room he entered.
Harry pretended not to notice.
It was working. The pretending. Or at least Harry had tried to convince himself it was working. He could lie and say he was only watching Malfoy to make sure he wasn’t up to anything suspicious. No one could blame him for that. Not after everything. But he couldn’t find a logical explanation for why he was currently watching the curve of Malfoy’s fingers around the glass stirring rod in their shared cauldron. Or why that made his skin feel hot and his shirt too tight.
Must be coming down with something he decided, and blinked his gaze away from those lithe fingers. He knew though, knew what it meant, what he’d been furiously denying for the past few years. What he almost let happen in the bathroom during 6th year when the choice had been to curse him or kiss him and Harry had chosen the former out of fear for what the latter would mean.
“If you’re quite done staring at my hands, Potter, would you be so kind as to pass me the Sopophorous Bean?” Malfoy’s voice cut through Harry’s mild panic, laced with amusement and he raised a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow in a clear expression of curiosity. Harry wanted to kill him. Harry wanted to kiss him.
Fuck.
So much for no drama.
*
October came and brought with it a change in the weather. The bright and warm mornings of September had been replaced with a low golden sunrise and a fresh chill in the air. Leaves had started to turn, summer green melting into shades of amber, cinnamon and russet. The castle was looking towards Halloween with excitement. Draco, on the other hand, was just trying to get through another month keeping his head down and appearances up.
He’d had to force himself to be seen with Astoria at least once a week, lest rumours of their proposed union being a farce got back to his mother.
This was apparently highly amusing to Pansy who had taken to calling him loverboy and would follow him around the castle humming the wedding march anytime he dutifully walked Astoria to her classes. He’d have hexed Pansy if he didn’t like her so much. Astoria, to her credit, hadn’t said anything but the phrase if looks could kill came to mind whenever Draco saw her looking at his best friend.
“Do you have to be so dramatic, Pan? You know I have to be seen with her.” Draco remarked that evening, sprawled out on one of the larger leather couches in the common room. Pansy was sitting on the other end, Draco’s feet in her lap and one of those sickeningly sweet romance novels she liked reading in her hands. The common room was fairly quiet, with many of the other 8th years either in the library or off doing whatever they wanted. Curfew wasn’t as strict with them, considering they were adults now and had literally contributed to winning a major war.
In fact, the only other students in the room were a gaggle of Hufflepuffs playing gobstones and the so-called Golden Trio who were sitting so close together whispering to each other that Draco could be convinced they were planning some sort of heist. He suspected it was something mundane like what Potter could do next to keep his hero status alive and well.
Pansy looked up from her book and swatted Draco’s knees with it, “Oh, let me have my fun Draco. I know you don’t really want to marry her and she only wants your Gringotts vault. I heard her telling Morag MacDougal that she’d much rather marry that Ravenclaw boy, you know, the handsome one that looks like Potter but less full of it…” She trailed off, looking back at her book again. Draco scoffed at that, because yes Potter was full of it. Always walking around like he owned the place, like the world was his and everyone else was just here as background characters.
“I’m sure that Ravenclaw boy is gay, for starters, and I didn’t have you down as finding Potter handsome but I’ll be sure to let him know you’re interested.” Draco just drawled in response, earning an indignant gasp from Pansy before his legs were suddenly shoved off her lap.
“That's the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.” Pansy said as she did her best to look annoyed, stomping off to the armchair opposite. Draco just smiled at her.
Later, from the comfort of his four poster bed and with the low continuous hum of Blaise snoring, Draco would mull over his conversation with Pansy. The words handsome and Potter weren’t ones he had ever used in the same sentence or had ever wanted anyone else to use. He hated Potter. He was supposed to hate Potter. With his stupid hair that was so messy but so perfect and his stupid glasses that made his stupid green eyes look so stupidly bright.
He hated him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about him.
***
Apparently brewing Draught of the Living Death required careful monitoring of the potion and regular late night check ups to add ingredients or stir the blasted thing in various different directions and speeds. Harry was quickly reaching the point of a breakdown over it and was considering requesting to drop potions altogether. Except he needed it to become an Auror and while yes he could probably persuade the Ministry to let him apply without that particular NEWT, he kind of wanted to prove he could do it.
So he’d resigned himself to his fate.
Stuck brewing a potion that definitely shouldn’t exist with a potions partner that had hated him for as long as he’d known him. Which was another reason he really wanted to drop potions. Being partnered with Malfoy wasn’t a bad thing in itself, the Slytherin was actually incredibly proficient and Harry had realised he was quietly funny - when he wasn’t being a slimy git and didn’t have the threat of Death Eaters invading his home. The problem lay in the fact that Harry couldn’t stop watching his hands work, whether they were stirring the potion, cutting ingredients or even just lazily flicking through notes. It wasn’t just reserved for potions either. He was going mad with watching him.
It apparently hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“You’re doing it again.” Hermione whispered, leaning in close to Harry at dinner, her voice low enough so only he could hear. Harry’s face immediately flushed and he tried to brush it off with a fake cough.
“What?” He asked dumbly, hoping Hermione would get the hint and drop it. But his best friend was nothing if not persistent, and annoyingly perceptive.
Hermione sighed, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed it, Harry. You’re watching him. It's getting obsessive again, remember 6th year?” She reminded him gently, moving to place a hand over his. “It’s over. There isn’t anything else he could possibly be up to. Benefit of the doubt, ok?”
Well, he thought, at least she thinks I’m suspicious of him being evil and not anything weird.
Harry nodded but he couldn’t help his gaze from moving back to Malfoy. He was talking to Zabini and Parkinson about something. Gesturing wildly and…has he always worn that ring? Harry couldn’t remember but the way Malfoy was suddenly gripping it, twirling it around like it was a nervous habit, made Harry feel things he definitely shouldn’t be feeling. He swallowed around the sudden feeling of panic bubbling in his throat. It didn’t help.
“Harry.” Her voice was firm now, like a mother trying to stop their child from doing something reckless. Harry couldn’t stand it.
“I’ve got to go.” Was all Harry said before he pulled his hand from Hermione’s grip and all but ran out of the Great Hall. It was too crowded, too noisy, too much.
He was aware of eyes on him as he stormed out, was certain he heard Ron’s voice call out to him, but he didn’t care. He just needed out. To where though, Harry hadn’t quite figured out. His legs were seemingly taking him somewhere of their own accord, with or without Harry’s permission or knowledge of the destination.
As it turned out, he found himself arriving in the gardens above the Hufflepuff common room. A quiet, charming courtyard filled with winding wisteria and mossy grass. Benches were haphazardly placed, as if they were an afterthought amongst the greenery, and the domes of the underground Hufflepuff quarters dominated a large circular space in the middle, the windows poking out of the moss and grass like long forgotten ruins. It ought to be peaceful, Harry supposed it was in a way, except he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to images of platinum blonde hair and long fingers and that damn ring.
The things Harry was thinking about weren’t normal things one usually thought about someone they were supposed to hate. Or even about friends. Harry had certainly never thought about Ron’s hands gripping his hips or pulling his hair. Ginny had been his girlfriend for Merlin’s sake and Harry had definitely never daydreamed about the length of her body pressed against his.
The thoughts weren’t unwelcome, as new and scary as they were to face, and Harry suspected the feelings had been there all along; buried beneath years of suspicion and a rivalry that seemed stupid in the wake of a war. In fact, sitting here surrounded by the beauty of Hogwarts with no impending doom to weigh him down, Harry felt like it made sense. He wasn’t built to love someone like Ginny, who was so full of joy and loved like she had never known any different. Harry was built for the fire, for a love that burned hot enough to leave scars and demand that he thank them for it. He would.
Harry wasn’t entirely sure how long he had stayed outside, sorting through his thoughts until he had come up with only one clear explanation; he was undeniably lusting after Draco Malfoy. But the sun had set and the stars had blinked across the darkening sky and that seemed to jolt Harry from his own mind.
Fuck.
The potion. Was it his turn tonight? Harry wasn’t sure, Malfoy had given him a verbal schedule of which nights they’d alternate checking in on their project and honestly Harry had only been half listening at the time. It didn’t matter now, though, if it was his turn he had a slim chance of making it in time to do whatever it was he needed to do and if it wasn’t and he turned up and Malfoy was already there? Well, Harry wasn’t opposed to letting the Slytherin berate him for not memorising the stupid schedule if it meant he got to see Malfoy roll his eyes and get in his space like he always did when he was angry.
It didn’t take long to run from the Hufflepuff courtyard to the potions classroom, and if Harry was out of breath from the short distance, well…He would blame the relaxing summer he had for his declining need to run for his life every day. He swung the door open in what he hoped was a casual way and not a I totally forgot to check on the potion way, just in case Malfoy was inside.
He was.
The sight nearly made Harry drop to his knees in the doorway. Malfoy was busy working over their shared cauldron, the fumes from the potion swirling around him like mist across a lake, dampening his hair and causing small beads of sweat to form along his temples. Harry had a fleeting thought that he wanted to lick him. He shook it away before it took root.
Malfoy had removed his heavy black robes, they were draped over the empty workbench behind him, and his white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Harry could see the faded remains of the Dark Mark, forever marring the otherwise perfect, pale skin of Malfoy’s arm. He found that he didn’t mind seeing it, it didn’t cause a visceral reaction like the last time, and Harry was more interested in following the prominent lines of his veins and the muscles that flexed with every stir of the glass rod that was delicately balanced in Malfoy’s fingers.
It was obscene. It was beautiful. Harry wondered how he’d never noticed before just how beautiful the man in front of him was.
“Sorry…I…Er, was it my night?” Harry stammered out, idiot, he cursed himself. Why did he have to turn into a stammering mess any time he was near anyone he had vaguely decided he might have a crush on. It was like 4th year with Cho all over again. As long as he didn’t drool on himself, he was sure this was salvageable.
Malfoy barely looked up from the cauldron, “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be here and the potion would be ruined. Did you even listen?” He drawled in a tone that was quickly becoming Harry’s favourite.
“Yes! Maybe…No, not really. I thought it was my turn tonight, though.” Harry admitted quietly, stepping fully into the room and allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind him. The latch clicked with an echo of finality, like whatever train of thought had led Harry to this moment was etched in stone. Maybe it was.
“Why did you even come back, Potter? What was the point in returning to study and learn if you can’t even do it properly! Some of us can’t just strut into any establishment we choose and become the boss with a single breath. Some of us have to actually earn our place.” Malfoy was seething, Harry had a sense that he ought to feel intimidated, or feel anything aside from the heat crawling up his neck and across his cheeks.
Malfoy was right, he didn’t need to be here. He didn’t have to work hard or earn his NEWTs, he was trying to have a normal year but apparently couldn’t even manage to do that without fucking up. Harry wished it was different, he knew it wasn’t fair and he didn’t want any of it. He just wanted to be boring. For once.
Harry didn’t say any of that though, instead what came out of his mouth was, “I don’t strut.” which was apparently the entirely wrong thing to say because Malfoy looked at him with an expression that could only be described as pure loathing before placing a stasis charm on the cauldron and turning to face Harry fully. His hair was sticking slightly to his forehead, it was incredibly distracting and unfairly attractive.
*
Draco was quickly losing his mind. Not only had Potter shown up to the potions lab barely fifteen minutes before curfew, which was absolutely not enough time to do anything of note, or helpfulness, with the Draught of Living Death that was already barely hanging on due to Potter’s general lack of competence in the subject. But he had the audacity to incite an argument by focusing on probably the least important part of everything Draco had just said to him. Which was so typically Potter. Draco wanted to hit him for it. He also wanted to slam him against the nearest wall, but that was for entirely different reasons.
“Did you even hear me!” Draco groaned in frustration, which caused a small gasp to fall from Potter’s mouth and suddenly Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet Potter’s gaze.
Oh.
Oh.
Potter was enjoying this. His face and neck were flushed the prettiest pink and his usually green eyes were almost entirely black. It was like all of Draco’s wet dreams come to life. He’d been harbouring his own misguided crush on Potter for longer than he was ever going to admit out loud, or internally. He didn’t think he’d ever have to think about it, he had been certain Potter was as straight and boring as it was possible to be.
And yet…Perhaps he wasn’t.
Draco took a step closer.
Potter stumbled back.
Draco ran his hand absently along the edge of the desk next to him.
Potter’s eyes followed the movement like a drowning man starving for air and Draco’s hand was the oxygen.
Somewhere in the castle the clock ticked over to half past 9, the familiar buzz of magic washed around the perimeter of the room and Draco could hear the click of the classroom door locking. He smirked, eyeing Potter like a predator that had just cornered its prey.
“Now you’ve done it. Looks like we’re stuck here until Slughorn finds us…or until morning, whichever comes first.” Draco murmured, stepping even closer to Potter who once again stumbled backwards. He had nowhere else to go, with a stone wall behind him and a door that wouldn’t open before sunrise without a Professor, Potter was quite literally cornered. And Draco had just figured out his biggest secret.
He could almost see the cogs turning in Potter’s mind; he was trying to find a way out, or a way in, and Draco was only too happy to give him the nudge he needed. He stepped impossibly close, causing Potter’s back to hit the stone and a small huff of surprise to release from his now parted lips.
“What are you doing?” Potter was trying his best to sound in control, Draco would have laughed if it wasn’t so endearing.
“Well…While we’re here, why don’t I teach you the proper way to brew the Draught of Living Death?” Draco drawled, boxing Potter in with his hands on either side of the Gryffindor’s head. “Are you listening carefully, Potter, because I won’t repeat myself.”
*
Harry was fucked.
Malfoy was far too close, Harry could smell his cologne and he wanted to drown in it. He could feel the warmth from Malfoy’s breath ghost across his face as he talked and he wanted to feel that warmth on every inch of his skin. He wasn’t listening. Malfoy could be telling him all the ways he wanted to rip Harry limb from limb and he would be none the wiser. Not with the way Malfoy’s bare arms were braced against the wall behind his head, or the way his body was angled so perfectly that one glance downward would give Harry a whole new perspective of the front of Malfoy’s trousers.
At one point Harry tried to focus back in on Malfoy’s explanation of how to properly crush a Sopophorous Bean with the edge of a silver knife but the moment the words release the juices efficiently reached his ears he couldn’t hold back any longer. The noise that escaped his throat sounded a lot like an admission of defeat, a simple fuck it to the universe, and for a fleeting moment he saw Malfoy’s eyes flicker down to his mouth and that was it.
Before he could think about it any further Harry buried his right hand in the front of Malfoy’s shirt and pulled the boy forward until their lips collided. Harry had heard people talk about kissing like it was some big life changing event, like it moved the earth and the stars and every fibre of a person’s being. He had never understood it before. Kissing had never felt particularly life altering to him.
Until right now.
He felt Malfoy lean into the embrace and Harry decided he could stay like this forever with his hand buried in the fabric of Malfoy’s shirt. Their lips moved effortlessly together in a way that made his head spin and his heart feel like it was about to burst from his chest.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
Harry gripped the shirt tighter, pulling him closer until Malfoy dropped one hand from the wall to grip the curve of Harry’s hip bone through his robes. Harry’s heart soared at the contact and the only thought running through his head was more, more, more. He must have accidentally said at least one of those out loud because he felt Malfoy grin against his lips and took it as an opportunity to swipe his tongue along his lower lip, Malfoy obliged, allowing Harry to explore his mouth with his tongue before taking back control.
Control that Harry was only too happy to allow Malfoy the illusion of having if it meant he got to feel his body pressing him into the wall and his knee slide between Harry’s legs like it was made to fit in the space between. It was still too gentle though, and Harry had a feeling he was going to have to spell it out for him.
He pulled back from the kiss to catch his breath, trying to find the words to tell Malfoy what he wanted.
“I’m not….fuck…a girl…touch me properly…” Harry gasped as Malfoy’s lips found his neck and began kissing and biting the sensitive skin.
“Mhm…” Malfoy moaned against Harry’s neck, pushing his knee harder between his legs and earning a rumble of satisfaction in response. “But it's so fun making you squirm.” He smirked, looking up at Harry through thick eyelashes and melting any resolve Harry had left.
Harry grabbed Malfoy’s waist and, using the strength that years of Quidditch training and months of running from murderers had granted him, flipped their positions so that Malfoy’s back hit the wall with a loud thud. Malfoy grinned like he’d just got all his wishes at once and Harry knew then that he had fallen into whatever trap had been set. But he went gladly, willingly and without complaint as he followed Malfoy’s gaze as it lowered expectantly and Harry sank to his knees in devotion. He wondered briefly what it must look like. As his hands found their way to the front of Malfoy’s trousers and the Heir to the House of Malfoy struggled to keep his gaze steady as he watched Harry pop the button with ease. He felt hands in his hair as he worked to lower Malfoy’s trousers and boxers in one fluid movement and couldn’t help but smile up at his long-standing nemesis with pure delight on his face as he reached up to cover one of those hands with his own and instructed Malfoy to tug.
When Malfoy obeyed Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a noise so obscene it made the cock in front of him twitch. Harry focused on it, mouth already watering and his own arousal becoming uncomfortably strained in his trousers.
“Shit…Potter…Get on with it.” Malfoy hissed, finally allowing his head to tilt back against the stone wall as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. Harry wanted to laugh. At the absurdity of it all. At the audacity of a man in Malfoy’s position to try and call any of the shots.
Harry grasped the base of Malfoy’s hard cock and squeezed, relishing in the sound that escaped Malfoy’s lips, before he drew back and whispered, “Say my name.”
It was a simple request. If he was going to be sucking someone’s dick they should at least have the decency to call him by his first name. He would even return the favour.
Draco…He tested it in his head, Draco, Draco, Draco. The thought of it made his cheeks flush deeper than they already were and Harry regretted every choice that led him to never use that name until now.
Draco stared down at Harry with glassy eyes, and he knew he must be a sight to behold. With Draco’s long, pale cock gripped in his hand and his mouth inches away from claiming it. In his haste to drop to his knees his robes had fallen from his shoulders and pooled around him on the floor, outlining him in darkness that only served to make him look more tempting. Draco moaned again as Harry moved his hand up and down his length slowly, expectantly.
“Potter…” Draco said through gritted teeth, his grip in Harry’s hair tightening. Harry stopped moving his hand.
“Don’t be a brat. Say. My. Name.” Harry purred, leaning close enough to Draco’s cock to flick his tongue out and graze the tip. Draco’s knees shook.
“Harry…Please.”
That was all he needed. Harry smiled and sank his lips around Draco, taking as much of him in his mouth as he could and using his hand to circle the rest. He moved slowly at first, keeping his eyes locked with Draco’s as he practically teased him to the edge, hollowing his cheeks and taking more of Draco's length into his throat. Harry hummed around him and Draco keened, the hands in his hair tugging almost violently. Harry had never needed anything more.
He trailed one hand up Draco’s thigh and over his hip, sliding it under his shirt and tracing his fingertips along the firm skin he found there. All the while picking up the speed at which he bobbed his head, allowing his eyes to flutter closed and enjoy the feeling of Draco gripping his hair while he sucked and swallowed around him.
“Fuck…Harry, just like that…so good.” Draco moaned, starting to gently guide Harry’s movements with his hands. Harry practically melted under the praise, squirming on his knees and humming around Draco’s cock. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“Mhmm, should’ve known you’d have a thing for praise.” He teased and Harry would have pulled away out of spite but Draco held him in place. “Do you want me to tell you how good you feel, how I’ve wanted you like this for so long, so pretty with tears in your eyes. All mine.” Draco cooed, stroking his fingers through Harry’s dark hair almost affectionately.
Harry, spurred on by Draco’s words, began to speed up and moved both his hands to grip Draco’s ass. He almost choked on the responding thrust of Draco’s hips but held steady, bringing the Slytherin to the edge of an orgasm as quickly as he could. Not that he wanted the night to be over. No, far from it. Harry had other ideas for the remainder of their time locked in the potions lab and they all involved Draco naked and bent over a desk.
If he’d grant Harry the privilege that was.
*
Draco had never seen a more beautiful sight than Harry Potter on his knees. He could watch him forever, mouth around his cock and hands gripping him so tight he would wear the bruises with pride for weeks. But as Harry sped up his movements to an almost frantic pace Draco quickly realised he was not going to last much longer. He tried to warn Harry, he tugged on his hair and tapped the side of his face in warning but Harry only moaned around him and carried on.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head back against the wall as he spilled down Harry’s throat with a strangled cry, one hand moving from Harry’s hair to his own mouth to bite down on the back of his hand. Harry, for all his efforts, managed to swallow Draco down like a cold butterbeer on a warm day. If he was a betting man he’d have put money on that not being Harry’s first time with a dick in his mouth. He was about to say as much, but when Harry pulled off of him with an obscene pop and grinned up at him like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, Draco forgot everything but his own name.
“You’re wearing far too many clothes.” Draco remarked instead, leaning down to drag Harry up by his tie and watched as his robes slipped off his arms entirely and lay in a crumpled mess on the floor.
“You want to do that here?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, and if Draco wasn’t mistaken there was a definite tone of hope in his voice. Draco rolled his eyes.
“Yes, Harry, I want you to bend me over a desk - any desk - and fuck me so hard I can’t sit down without thinking about your cock. If you’re big enough, that is.” Draco shrugged, sounding more casual than he felt considering he had his trousers round his ankles.
Harry grinned. Draco knew he was never one to back down from a challenge.
“Who knew the Malfoy Heir had such a dirty mouth…” Harry mused, his hands moving to undo his shirt buttons as Draco released the knot of the Gryffindor tie and let it drop to the floor. Harry’s shirt followed seconds after.
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Draco made quick work of his own shirt and tie, kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his clothes with all the grace of a man of his social standing, before pushing Harry back against the closest desk and crashing their lips together once more. This kiss was dangerous, bruising and all consuming as Draco trailed his hands down Harry’s now bare chest. He mapped out the contours of Harry’s skin with his fingertips, committing the feeling of each muscle to memory as his mouth claimed Harry’s with almost brutal force. Harry let him have this control, seemed to revel in it like it was some gift owed to him by the universe.
Draco’s hands moved slowly down, resting on the waistband of Harry’s trousers for just a moment too long. Harry bucked his hips forward and bit down on Draco’s bottom lip. It was a request, or a warning, Draco didn’t care which as he undid the button and slipped his hand inside. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as he felt the size of Harry, his mind already supplying him with a delicious idea of how Harry was going to feel inside him. He was already half-hard again just thinking about it.
The sound of a deep moan and the feeling of hips bucking against him pulled Draco from his fantasy, he shoved Harry’s trousers and boxers down as far as he could while keeping their mouths connected. Harry’s tongue was dancing with his own in a way that would ruin him for anyone else. Draco didn’t care. He didn’t think he would ever want anyone else again after tonight.
*
This was taking too long. Harry was losing his mind. Draco kissed him with urgency but touched him so slowly. He decided that he’d had enough just as Draco pulled back from the kiss to remove Harry’s clothes entirely. He watched as Draco’s eyes drifted down, heard his breath hitch as he took in the sight of Harry’s arousal and could practically feel the desire rolling off of him in waves.
Interesting.
Harry hadn’t pegged Draco as caring about size but it seemed he was partial to the larger things in life. Harry was only too happy to indulge.
“See something you like?” He teased, leaning back against the desk behind him in such a way that tilted his hips forward, putting himself on display for Draco. The only response he got was a deep, almost feral, growl and Draco started to sink to the floor. Harry stopped him. He grabbed Draco by the shoulders and once again flipped their positions, but this time he faced Draco away from him.
“Hands on the desk for me, Draco.” Harry instructed.
Draco whined, “Let me taste you…”
Harry made a tutting sound and ran a single finger from the nape of Draco’s neck down to the base of his spine, making the blonde shiver.
“Hands on the desk.” The command was firmer this time, Draco obeyed. His hands flat against the smooth surface of the wood. Harry leaned against him, his chest flush with Draco’s back, and carefully removed the signet ring from Draco’s hand. “Mind if I borrow this?” He hummed as he slipped it onto his own finger. Then he whispered a lubrication charm he had learned over the summer, warming the liquid between his fingers before guiding his hand down to Draco’s ass.
He felt the Slytherin tense as he traced the rim with one finger, but after a few well placed kisses to the back of his neck he felt the man relax into his touch. Harry pushed one finger inside slowly, giving Draco the time to adjust and melt into the feeling before he started to move, thrusting the digit in and out, watching his finger disappear inside Draco with a look of complete awe on his face. Draco huffed impatiently and threw Harry a look so murderous he would have laughed in any other circumstance.
“So desperate…” Harry teased, but obliged him by adding another finger, the one with the ring. Draco keened when the cool metal touched his hole, he leaned down to drop his forehead to the desk and moaned so deeply that Harry could have climaxed from the sound alone. He wondered briefly, if Draco had ever done this before, touched himself with his Malfoy ring…Let the cool metal slide against him, in him. The thought alone had Harry’s dick twitching and his heart racing. He stretched Draco slowly, thoroughly, making sure that he would be able to take Harry easily.
“More…I can take it…Please…fuck…” Draco was a mess, sweat beading along his spine and his eyes glazed over in such a way that made Harry want to buy a pensieve to relive the memory over and over. He withdrew his fingers, earning a whine from Draco, before casting another lubrication charm, coating his dick and lining it up against Draco’s ass.
With one hand gripping the base of his cock and the other holding Draco’s hip like his life depended on it, Harry pushed into Draco. He started slow, not wanting to hurt Draco or overwhelm him but it soon became apparent that he needn’t have worried. Draco pushed his hips back, taking Harry deeper and gripping the desk so hard his knuckles had gone impossibly white. Harry saw stars. He stuttered out a broken moan and tried to stop himself from slamming into Draco.
“Move.” Draco moaned, lifting his head from the desk to look back at Harry. And oh if that wasn’t a sight to behold. Harry wanted to burn the image into his retinas.
“So impatient…I should make you beg for it.” Harry smirked.
“I swear to Merlin…If you don’t start moving in the next five seconds Harry Potter…” Draco didn’t get to finish whatever thinly veiled threat he was about to come up with because Harry pulled back until just the tip of his cock was inside Draco before thrusting back in with such force it rocked the desk. Draco would have bruises. Harry couldn’t wait to see them.
He fucked into Draco at a violent pace, one hand holding his hip in a vice grip while the other trailed up Draco’s spine to pin his chest flat against the desk. The sounds Draco was making were delightful, little moans and whines that only served to make Harry move faster. He could feel Draco clenching around him, his legs barely able to hold himself up as Harry continued his fast pace. He wouldn’t be able to last much longer and by the way Draco was trembling beneath him; neither would he. Harry wondered if he could make Draco come like this, untouched with only Harry’s cock thrusting in and out of him.
He leaned down to whisper in Draco’s ear, “I’m so close…Will you come with me, Draco?” Harry nipped at his earlobe and Draco moaned again, nodding frantically as he pushed himself back to meet Harry thrust for thrust.
Too soon, and not soon enough, Harry was crying out as he came deep inside Draco, the Slytherin following seconds after. As they came down from their high, Harry pulled out of him and cleaned them both up with a wandless cleaning charm before he guided Draco down onto the floor and started rubbing his hands in soothing circles around the blossoming bruises forming around Draco’s hips.
Draco sighed, his eyes closing as he leant against Harry, suddenly making him feel like he had been allowed to claim something precious. Harry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that feeling but he knew he didn’t want to let it go. Carefully, so as not to disturb Draco, Harry summoned both of their robes to cover their naked bodies as they lay entangled in each other on the floor of the potions lab. He had a vague thought that whoever found them in the morning was going to be met with a very shocking sight but as sleep threatened to drag him under he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
***