Work Text:
He wasn’t looking for a fight when it started. He was just walking down the ever winding corridors, on his way to meet Theo in the library when there eyes met. He sneered at Harry like usual. Malice evident on his face when he noticed Draco, who wouldn’t sneer when the golden boy is looking at you like evil incarnate.
And yeah maybe he was an arse more often then not be he hadn’t even said anything and here he was being glared at for just walking by. So he did what any sane person would do, and slammed his shoulder harshly into Harry’s when they crossed by eachother.
And yeah, that was stupid He should have known this was coming really. Shouldn’t be surprised when constant obsession, turned to simmering disdain, and turned again in to all consuming hatred.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when Harry yanked him up by his dressing robes and shoved him harshly into the cobbled stone wall behind him. His toes still scraping the ground due to his being so much taller than Harry.
“Bastard.” He grit out through clenched teeth, green eyes glinting in the high afternoon sun streaming though the window above.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at all and yet he was.
So much so that he loosed his grip on his wand just enough for it to slip out of his hand and clatter onto the floor, his breath hitching. And just like that he looses the only way he’s ever really learned to defend himself.
He was feral with the excitement of it, grey eyes bright and brows pulled high. “Had enough potter? Finally come to put me in my place?” He laughs, unbridled and almost mad.
He knew he must have looked it too, could feel his robes wrinkle and his hair fall into his eyes.
There was a swirling feeling blooming low in his gut, a tightness in his chest he couldn’t quite place. Harry’s eyes were sharp, brows pinched in rage and frustration.
He scoffs and shoved him roughly, letting his heels meet the floor again.
“Fucking git.” Harry sneers. Like he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his lips if he wanted to.
He should have walked away, a normal person would have. But he didn’t, couldn’t really.
“Pathetic, too scared to make a move without your little friends to back you up.”
And he really should have walked away, but he’s Draco and he’s filled with this- this need. A need to push potter just as far as he could, he wanted to see him unravel. And he wanted it to be because of him.
Potter tensed, knuckles white at his sides. Looking like he was telling himself to go, to walk away. But he spins, quick as a flash of lightning.
And Draco feels it happen in slow motion, he way his brows shoot up in surprise, the slow grin stretching across his face and potter’s fist coming straight towards his face.
He hears the sickening crunch of bone and he knows his nose is broken. But he doesn’t even care, can’t feel the pain blooming just yet. Because Harry has cracked. That golden boy facade slipping just a fraction.
Draco relished in the way his knuckles sting when he hits him back, and in the way his teeth rattled when Harry drew back and swung in return . Balled fist connecting with the underside of Draco’s clenched jaw.
He didn’t think it would ever really come to blows between them, they were wizards for Merlin’s sake. They were more likely to hex each-other into oblivion before this. But something about the taste of iron filling his mouth from the split lip he was obviously sporting now was spurring him on.
The physical nature of it all sending a warm swooping thrill through him.
“Perfect little potter isn’t as golden as he seems hmm?” He snickers, spitting a bit of blood onto his shoes.
He looks well and truly outraged. But Draco can see a second of clarity in his eyes reform when they hear footsteps around the corner.
And Harry is shoving him behind a tapestry into a small hidden alcove, hand pressed over his mouth.
Draco hopes the person doesn’t see his wand in the floor and by some stroke of luck they don’t, walking by oblivious to the two boys pressed tightly to eachother mere inches away.
Draco studies Harry’s face like this, there is a bruise forming just under his eye where he managed to land a hit during their tiff. And bit blood dripping from a gash left from the force of Draco’s ring slamming into his face.
Draco thinks for a second that he looks rather pretty like this.
Harry moves to drop his hand away from his mouth with a sigh, shoulders sagging in the relief of not being caught. And they’re pressed so close together Draco can’t help but notice it when Harry shifts. He’s hard, and pressed firmly against Draco’s thigh.
He peers up at Draco panicking in his eyes, his mouth parted slightly and chest rising quickly with his still ragged breaths.
“Fuck it.” And it’s Draco’s turn to yank Harry up by his robes, teeth clacking together with the force of their mouths meeting.
He can taste the blood in Harry’s mouth mixing with his own in his. He’s gripping his shoulders tightly, sure to bruise in the shapes of his fingers.
Draco won’t heal them.
And maybe he should have saw this coming too, those years of obsession finally coming to a head.
Harry pulls his wand from his back pocket and murmurs a silencing spell, before dripping to to the floor and letting his head fall back against the wall.
Draco claims his neck, biting roughly and Harry keens something broken and desperate. Draco can feel how hard he is, cock pressing insistantly against his hip. He soothes the bruising mark with his tongue.
Sucking harsh kisses up his neck and across his jaw, he can feel the slightest scrape of stubble against his lips and wonders if it will be his undoing.
That same swooping excitement fills his chest, and he captures Harry lips again. Less teeth now, tongues meeting in a dance.
He feels Harry scrap his nails down the back of his head, mussing up his styled hair but the feeling sends a delicious shiver down his spine, and has his cock jumping against Harry’s.
And he’s not sure when it happened but their cocks are sliding against each-other through layers of fabric and he can feel the heat radiating off Harry. He’s dizzy in way he’s never felt before.
“Malfoy, need” he’s gasping into the dark alcove. “Need!”
“What do you need baby?” And can he even recognize his own voice like this, taking on a deeper timber than he’s ever heard.
“More, need more please!” He’s gasping, begging, tears shining in his eyes. Maybe it’s desperation, maybe it’s his own embarrassment making him tear up like that, Draco doesn’t know. But he leans forward and licks up the fat tear sliding down Harry’s cheek, the salty tear mixing with the bit of blood still there. And he moans, hips canting against Harry’s without his permission.
He’s dizzy groans shoving Harry off him for a moment, to get to the butting of his pants. Fumbling in the dark, before finally pulling the offending farmer down below Harry’s hips.
His cock stands tall, a bit thicker than Draco’s soft brown curls hiding the base of it, tip shiny with precome. And Draco is salivating.
“Tell me to stop.” Draco breaths, hand wrapping experimentally around Harry.
But he doesn’t, he just grips Draco’s forearm head falling forward to rest on Draco’s shoulder. His hips push into his fist, and Draco can feel him trembling. Can feel the heat of his flushed skin.
“Draco.” Harry breathes, like a prayer and Draco couldn’t stop now if he wanted to.
He hisses, feeling his own cock begging to be freed. He makes quick work of his own pants. He lines up pressing there cocks together and grips them both in one hand.
“Big.” Harry murmurs looking down, and Draco’s head is swimming in a new way.
He is bigger, longer at least and it stokes his ego in a dangerous way.
He jerks them off like that, gripping a little too tight, kissing Harry hard. Biting on his lips and teeth clacking with their movements.
It’s delicious, and can feel his toes curling and heat building low steady.
But Harry is coming into his fist, making an obscene wet shlick noise when he brings his hand from tip to base. And somewhere in the back of his mind Draco thinks he could become addicted to this feeling.
Holding power over potter in an all new way. It’s that thought that has him spilling with a low groan across Harry’s stomach. The fabric of his shirt soaking it up quickly.
He pants, head dropping onto Harry’s shoulder.
He laves a wet lick across his neck, tasting his sweat. He mouths at his neck for a moment, coming down from his high.
After a long moment Harry stoops down to grab his wand, vanishing there mess in a moment. Before pulling his pants up and brushing the tinkles from his clothes as much as he can.
Draco smiles, lazy and sated as he rights his own clothing.
Harry looks at him and grimaces, “ah sorry about your face.”
Draco laughs, barks really.
“Fuck off twat.” He shoves Harry, but there is no heat to it.
Harry grins, “Maybe madame Pomfrey should patch us up?”
Harry shakes his head pushing the tapestry back and fetching Draco’s wand before passing it over to him.
“Next time you want to pick a fight, we can just skip right to the fucking part.” All Draco can do is bring, yeah he should have saw that coming.