Draco Malfoy’s pale hair fell over his forehead as he slumped listlessly over his Arithmancy homework. He sighed, resting his pointed chin on one hand and doodled absently in the margin of his parchment. To a casual observer it would appear that he was focused on his work, puzzling over a problem. In actual fact his eyes slid up and returned once again to the boy sitting, happily oblivious, a few tables away from Draco.
Using his long fringe for cover, Draco observed him carefully. Objectively, Harry Potter was really nothing special – with his hopelessly messy hair, slight figure and average features. But just as Draco was trying to convince himself of Potter’s lack of appeal, the dark boy raised his head to murmur something to Granger who was sitting next to him. He smiled at her as he spoke, and Draco’s resolve crumbled. The simple act of smiling somehow transformed Potter from nondescript to beautiful. His face lit up and the kindness and warmth in his green eyes made Draco’s toes curl with longing. He would do anything to have Potter smile at him like that, but he had no idea how to make it happen.
Harry Potter, Draco thought to himself. Of all the boys in Hogwarts that he could fixate on, he had to end up obsessed with bloody Potter. He had had stern words with his libido on several occasions and had tried his utmost to direct his fantasies to more suitable candidates – Slytherins for instance, or other boys that he actually knew were gay. But no. The Gryffindor filled his waking thoughts and even invaded his dreams at night.
Draco supposed it made a fucked-up kind of sense. Right from the first time he had met Potter, he had never been able to ignore him. The other boy had always got under his skin, always intrigued and infuriated him. Their lives and destinies had been intertwined throughout their adolescent years, as they were both swept along by events outside their control. But now the war was over, everything was different and their mutual animosity had been replaced by an awkward truce. Their interactions since returning to Hogwarts for their final year were characterised by cool politeness. But in Draco’s case, this facade was an attempt to mask the hopeless longing that lurked beneath the surface.
Draco was interrupted from his musings by a sharp dig in the ribs. He stifled an outraged yelp and turned to glare at the culprit.
“Pansy, what the fuck?” He hissed in annoyance.
“You were practically drooling, darling,” she whispered back with a smirk. “It’s pathetic to watch.”
Draco scowled at her but reluctantly turned his attention back to his homework. She was probably right. His Potter-ogling was getting seriously out of hand. Only a few of his close friends knew about his embarrassing obsession, and Draco was very keen to keep it that way.
“You should just tell him, Draco,” Pansy said, as they walked along the corridors to the Great Hall that evening.
He snorted in amusement. "And what makes you think that that would be anything other than a terminally stupid idea?”
“He might like you too,” she said simply. “But you’ll never know unless you get off your arse and do something about it.”
“But he likes girls,” Draco protested. “So what on earth would be the point of making a fool of myself? At best he’ll let me down politely, and at worst he and the rest of the Gryffindors will have a good laugh at my expense. No fucking way is that going to happen.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure that he does like girls,” Pansy persisted. “Ginny Weasley has been very tight-lipped about why they haven’t got back together, but there have been rumours.” Her voice was dark with implications. “Plus, he’s not been involved with any other girls since he ended it with Ginny. And it’s not as if he doesn’t get the opportunity.”
Draco huffed in irritation. That was certainly true. The Saviour of the Wizarding World was more of a celebrity than ever since the war. He had girls chasing him constantly, it was nauseating.
“That’s hardly conclusive evidence is it, Pans?” he drawled. “Just because Potter isn’t shagging his groupies doesn’t mean that he has a secret penchant for cock.”
“Maybe not,” she replied with a shrug. “But what have you got to lose?”
He looked at her incredulously. “Would you like me to write you a list? My pride and self-respect for starters. Seriously Pansy, if he turned me down and people found out about it, I’d be a fucking laughing stock. Now, can we just drop the subject?”
Pansy sniffed disapprovingly but let it go. Draco stalked along in silence beside her, angry at being made to think about things he’d rather not consider.
He’d already decided that he was absolutely not prepared to take the risk of telling Potter that he fancied him. Being rejected at all would be bad enough, but he didn’t think that he could bear it if he was faced with mockery or disgust. But Pansy’s hint that Potter might fancy boys had sent his thoughts whirling out of control. He tried to tamp them back down and remind himself why it would be madness to risk saying anything. Even if Potter did like boys, he was hardly likely to be interested in Draco. He’d never given him the time of day before.
At the weekend they were allowed out to Hogsmeade on the Saturday. Most students took advantage of the opportunity to shop and have a change of scenery, but Draco wasn’t really in the mood for it. He had planned on staying behind and studying, but Pansy managed to wear him down.
“Oh come along Draco, don’t sit around here moping,” she said bracingly. “It’ll do you good to get out and do something other than work or moon around after Potter.”
Draco rolled his eyes at her. But he had to admit that the prospect of some fresh air and a pint of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks did sound rather more appealing than an afternoon in the library poring over books. So he gave in to Pansy’s badgering and tagged along with her and Blaise.
It was a freezing cold December day. The snow that already lay on the ground was frozen hard and crunched under their feet as they walked. The sky was clear and the sunlight glittered on the white landscape. By the time they reached Hogsmeade they were freezing, despite their many layers of clothing and use of Warming Charms. They headed straight for the Three Broomsticks to thaw out with a pint of butterbeer each.
They settled into a table that had bench seats on either side of it. Pansy slid in next to Blaise. Draco was stuck facing them as they sat slightly closer together and touched each other a little more often than was strictly needed. Draco scowled into his drink as he realised that the outing had been a mistake.
Blaise and Pansy were officially just good friends, but they had been skirting around each other for weeks now. Draco knew it was only a matter of time before they ended up shagging. Being forced to sit and watch their elaborate mating rituals was frankly depressing. It just emphasised the fact that there was no likelihood of Draco finding anyone to shag in the near future, or even anyone to snog.
His eyes roamed around the pub as Blaise and Pansy chatted and flirted, oblivious to Draco’s morose expression. Just as Pansy let out another peal of too-loud laughter at one of Blaise’s not-really-funny jokes, Draco stiffened as a couple entered and sat down at a table near the door.
It was Potter and Ginny Weasley. Draco watched, his heart sinking as Harry pulled out a chair for Ginny solicitously and went to the bar to buy drinks for both of them. Did this mean that they were getting back together after all? As Potter returned with their drinks, Draco focused all of his attention on the couple while trying not to be obvious about it. They sat close and seemed to be deeply involved in conversation, but their voices were too quiet for him to hear. He was interested to see that Ginny was frowning and gesturing with her hands. Potter wasn’t looking too happy either; his expression was shuttered and defensive.
“Draco... Draco?” Blaise’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts. He snapped his attention back to his companions, but wasn’t quite fast enough.
Pansy glanced over her shoulder to see where he had been looking. “I should have known,” she rolled her eyes. “You only get that vacant, dreamy expression when you’re on Potter Watch.”
“Oh, piss off,” Draco retorted. “Watching Potter is infinitely more interesting than watching you two dancing around each other like a couple of hippogriffs in heat. Why don’t you just get on with it and cut straight to the snogging? It’s so bloody obvious that that’s where you’re heading.”
Pansy flushed slightly and removed her hand from Blaise’s knee, but Blaise grabbed it and put it back. “Don’t mind him, Pansy, darling,” he drawled. “He’s just jealous because he’s lusting after the unobtainable. Whereas I’m completely obtainable...” He smirked at Pansy and raised his hand to push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
Pansy giggled as she turned back to Blaise. Draco pushed his chair back forcefully, making a loud scraping sound on the flagstone floor.
“I’m heading back,” he announced shortly as he slid into his thick winter coat. “Playing third wheel is not helping my mood. I’ll see you back at the castle later.”
Draco’s attempt to stalk away gracefully was thwarted. The pub was crowded and the tables were close together. As he tried to squeeze behind Ginny Weasley’s chair, she shoved it back suddenly, blocking his path.
“No, Harry, I don’t get it!” her voice was hard and angry. “I don’t understand, and I’m not sure that I want to.”
She leapt up and stormed out of the pub, pulling her coat and scarf on as she went. Draco watched her go and turned to look at Potter. His face was flushed and unhappy. Draco raised his eyebrows but Potter just glared at him and stood up, pulling on a scruffy coat and a red knitted hat that almost completely covered his habitually dishevelled dark hair. He walked to the door and left without looking back.
Draco pushed the chair that Ginny had vacated aside, and made his own way to the door. The icy air hit him like a slap in the face as he stepped out of the warmth of the pub. The sun, now low in the sky, made him squint. Draco paused for a moment, pulling his fur hat down on his forehead and pulled his gloves out of his pocket. He took his time sliding them onto his long, slender fingers, tweaking out every wrinkle of the supple, black leather until they fitted like a second skin.
Satisfied at last, he lifted his head and realised that Potter was leaning against the outside wall of the pub and his eyes were fixed on Draco’s hands. Draco waggled his fingers and Potter’s green eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Potter blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Potter,” Draco said coolly. “I thought you’d be chasing after the Weaslette.”
“Don’t call her that,” Potter snapped. But then his mouth turned down at the corners and he sighed. “And no, I don’t think she wants me to chase her. She’s gone to find her friends.”
“She did look pretty pissed off with you,” Draco observed.
He waited, wondering if Potter would offer any explanation for Ginny’s behaviour, but the dark boy remained silent and pensive. Draco shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, he couldn’t think of anything else to say to Potter but was loath to just turn and leave without a word.
“Well, I’m heading back now,” Potter suddenly said, pushing himself abruptly away from the wall and pulling the collar on his coat up.
“Right,” said Draco. “Erm... me too, as it happens.” He carried on talking, not allowing himself to think too hard about what he was saying. “We could walk back together if you like... Otherwise one of us will have to deal with that whole awkward walking twenty yards behind the other, and trying not to catch them up scenario. You know... when you’re going the same way as someone, but not walking together?”
Harry surprised him by laughing suddenly. His breath made a cloud in the icy air and the smile on his face made Draco’s knees suddenly, embarrassingly weak.
“Okay,” he nodded, still grinning. “We wouldn’t want to have to deal with that minefield.”
Draco found his lips curling in response and he realised that this was the first time he and Potter had ever smiled at each other.
“Come on then, Potter.”
Draco turned and set off in the direction of Hogwarts and Potter fell into step beside him.
They trudged along without speaking. A few groups of Hogwarts students watched them pass with curious eyes as they walked through the village, but they didn’t see anyone that they knew well. Draco felt increasingly uncomfortable as the silence grew between them. He was finally alone with Potter and he had no idea how to talk to him. It wasn’t that he wanted to declare himself or anything, but it would have been nice to have a normal conversation to pass the time. Draco racked his brains for something to say, but there were so few safe topics of conversation given their history. Maybe it had been a mistake to walk together.
They had reached the section of road that passed through the edge of the forest, and the sky was growing noticeably darker. Their feet crunched in a companionable rhythm as they walked, somehow instinctively falling into pace together. The wind was picking up, and Draco shivered as a particularly icy gust brought a few small flakes of new snow with it. He looked up at the sky and saw that it had changed from the blue of earlier to that heavy ominous shade of yellow-grey that threatens snow, and lots of it.
“Looks like we’re in for a storm,” he glanced sidelong at Potter. “We’d better hurry.”
Potter’s face was pale against the few spikes of dark hair that escaped from his hat. The bright red of the wool and the green of his eyes provided the only colour in an otherwise monochrome landscape. Potter bit his lip and frowned, squinting up at the sky.
“I’m not sure we’ll make it back in time.”
They picked up their pace, but the snow was falling in earnest now. The small flakes soon gave way to the large feathery type, whirling hypnotically around them and sticking to Draco’s eyelashes and to the lenses of Potter’s glasses. It was almost impossible to see the road now and they instinctively stayed close together. Potter lost his footing, stumbling into Draco and Draco grabbed his elbow to right him and held on tightly.
“This is ridiculous,” he said briskly. “We should find somewhere to shelter and wait for this to stop.”
“But where?” Potter turned, wiping the snow off his glasses to peer at Draco through the smeared lenses. “There’s nowhere close.”
“Under a thick tree will be better than nothing,” Draco insisted. “We’ll end up freezing and soaking wet if carry on walking in this, and we might stray off the road without even noticing.”
“Okay,” Potter nodded.
Draco suddenly realised that he was still holding Potter’s elbow, but he didn’t let go. He tugged on his arm, pulling him towards the side of the road. They reached the cover of the trees where fewer snowflakes were falling through the canopy.
“That one might do,” Draco pointed to a fir tree whose lower branches nearly swept the ground.
He finally released his hold on Potter’s arm and they moved over to crawl under the branches, wands drawn and ready. Draco cast Lumos in the sudden darkness. Sure enough, there was a perfect shelter beneath the thick spreading limbs of the tree. The space was only a metre or so high, but it was dry and softly carpeted with pine needles.
They settled in, making themselves as comfortable as they could by transfiguring their damp coats into two large blankets and casting Warming Charms, keeping their wands lit for illumination. The cold was still seeping up through the ground, but it was better than being out in the storm. They hung up their wet hats and gloves to dry on the branches above them and sat cross-legged, huddled in their blankets, grinning at each other in shared triumph at finding somewhere to shelter.
“Shame we haven’t got any firewhiskey,” Potter remarked as he pulled off his glasses to wipe the melting snow off them.
He looked up at Draco as he spoke and his eyes were huge and vulnerable without their usual shield. Draco’s mouth felt dry and he was suddenly very relieved that they didn’t have any alcohol. He found Potter’s presence intoxicating enough, thank you very much. He was fairly sure that adding alcohol into the equation would only result in him embarrassing himself spectacularly.
Draco noticed that Potter’s cheeks were filling with colour as he warmed up, and his lips were enticingly pink. He found himself staring at Potter’s mouth and wondered whether his lips would feel warm if he kissed him. He dragged his eyes back up to meet Potter’s and found the green eyes watching him curiously.
“So, Potter,” Draco began, emboldened by the peculiar intimacy of the situation and desperate to distract himself from his intrusive thoughts of Potter’s lips. “Are you going to tell me what was up with the she-weasel earlier? We need to talk about something to pass the time, and gossip is so much more interesting than discussing the weather.”
“Don’t call her that,” Potter said sharply.
“Sorry,” Draco smirked. “Force of habit. What was up with Ginny then? She wasn’t looking happy.”
Potter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair until it stood up in wild spikes. Draco fingers itched with the urge to touch it. He clenched his fists under the blanket that was wrapped around him and waited for Potter to reply.
“She’s angry with me because I let her down,” he shrugged. “She wants us to get back together and I can’t do it.”
“Why not?” Draco couldn’t resist digging.
“Because I don’t feel that way about her anymore,” Potter looked sad. “And looking back, I’m not sure I ever really did, if I’m honest. I wanted us to be more than friends, but it just didn’t feel right.”
Draco frowned. “I don’t understand. Why did you try to force it, if there was nothing there?”
Potter was silent for a long moment. “I think I wanted to be part of her family,” he flushed red and hung his head. “That sounds awful, like I was using her... but I didn’t realise it at the time. It’s just that my own relatives are so vile and the Weasleys are the closest thing I have to a family. And I honestly thought it might work – then I would always have been able to be a part of that.”
Draco stared at him in silence, unsure of what to say. Eventually Potter raised his head again and smiled weakly.
“Fuck,” he sighed. “I have no idea why I’m telling you any of this. So come on then, Malfoy, it’s your turn. Why were you leaving the Three Broomsticks in such a hurry earlier?”
Draco pulled his blanket tighter around him and shivered. It was getting colder again; Warming Charms could only do so much. “I was fed up of playing gooseberry,” he sniffed in annoyance. “Pansy and Blaise are all over each other at the moment and it’s painful to watch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Potter’s brows drew together. “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve; I didn’t know that you liked her.”
“No!” Draco snorted at the irony. “I didn’t mean painful like that, I just meant painful as in tedious and irritating. Merlin, no, I don’t fancy Pansy. She’s lacking a certain basic piece of anatomy that I’m rather fond of, as it happens.”
Potter’s eyes flew open in surprise and his lips parted. “Really?” He looked flustered. “I... um... I had no idea that you were... uh...”
“Gay?” Draco raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Potter. It’s not exactly common knowledge but it’s not a deep dark secret either.” There was an awkward silence as Potter picked at a loose thread on his blanket, seemingly unwilling to meet Draco’s eyes.
He finally looked up and his face gave nothing away. “I’m going to look out and see if the snow’s eased off yet.”
“Okay,” Draco’s heart sank. Potter was clearly uncomfortable about being alone with him now he knew about Draco’s sexual orientation. Brilliant. Why hadn’t he kept his fucking mouth shut?
Potter threw his blanket off and wriggled on his belly to poke his head out from under the branches, affording Draco a rather nice view of his arse in the process. Draco admired it, whilst simultaneously regretting that he was never likely to get to grope it.
Potter reversed back in and turned to face Draco. He had snowflakes stuck to his glasses again and melting in his hair.
“It’s still snowing,” he reported ruefully. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while yet.”
Draco cast Tempus. “It’s only six o’clock,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll stop soon. We can still get back later this evening.”
He watched as Potter pulled his blanket back around himself. He was looking pale again and although he was trying to hide it, he was visibly shivering in his threadbare Muggle clothing. Draco was feeling cold again too, despite his robes, and they were much thicker than the jeans and zipped-up sweatshirt thing that Potter was wearing. The Warming Charm was only taking the edge off the freezing air around them, and now that night was falling the temperature was dropping fast. He noticed Potter’s jaw clench in an attempt to stop his teeth from chattering.
“You do know that there is one very obvious way that we can warm each other up, don’t you?” Draco fixed his eyes on the other boy, determined not to blush as he spoke.
“Um... I guess,” Potter had the look of a startled rabbit as realisation dawned on his face.
Draco rolled his eyes. “I promise not to molest you, Potter. But it seems pretty stupid for us to freeze our bollocks off under separate blankets when we could combine our resources and our body heat instead.”
Potter’s cheeks flushed delightfully as he nodded. “Okay,” he muttered.
As the Gryffindor seemed paralysed by awkwardness, Draco took charge. He spread his blanket down on the ground and lay on his side, gesturing for Potter to join him on it. He arranged them on their sides; Potter’s back to his chest and then pulled the other blanket around both of them, making sure that every bit of them was covered.
Draco wrapped his long arms around Potter and they lay in stiff and awkward silence for a while. Draco could feel the other boy’s body, tense and shivering against his. He tightened his grip on him and melded their bodies together.
Gradually, warmth began to build between them. Slowly, imperceptibly, Draco felt the tension drop away from his cold muscles as the heat seeped into them, making him feel tired and heavy. Potter’s shivering stopped and his body relaxed in Draco’s arms. Potter shifted slightly and sighed, his arse pressing back against Draco’s groin and Draco suddenly felt a dangerous rush of heat low in his belly as his cock started to take an interest in the proceedings.
A quick and concerted effort to imagine Professor Sprout naked – combined with the potential mortification of Potter noticing an unwanted erection pressed against his backside – stopped Draco’s prick filling before it reached critical proportions. He was left with an annoyingly not-quite-flaccid cock that was trapped uncomfortably in his underwear. But he was buggered if he was going to draw attention to himself by adjusting it, so he winced and did his best to ignore it.
“How did you know?” Although his voice was quiet, Draco felt the vibrations through his sternum as Potter spoke.
“How did I know what?” he replied, his breath ruffling Potter’s hair.
“How did you know that you were gay?”
Draco suppressed his instinctive urge to answer flippantly. Potter had been surprisingly honest earlier when Draco had questioned him about Ginny Weasley. Draco felt as though he owed him something in return.
“When all the other boys started going on about girls and how amazing tits were, I just didn’t get it,” he replied. “At first I thought maybe I was a late developer... but then I had my first wet dream about Oliver Wood and after that it was pretty obvious.”
He felt Potter’s body shake in his arms as he chuckled. “Yeah,” he replied. “I guess that would be a clue.”
“And all the wank fantasies about him after that confirmed it for me,” Draco smirked at the recollection and they both chuckled.
Then Potter spoke again.
“Have you ever actually... done anything with a boy?”
“Nothing more than a snog and a grope,” Draco admitted. “I’ve never really had the opportunity.”
There was a long silence. Draco did a bit more visualisation of Professor Sprout naked. All the talk of snogging and wanking was making his prick interested again.
“That’s why it didn’t work out with Ginny...” Potter’s voice was barely more than a whisper now. “I don’t think that I fancy girls either.”
Draco froze, his heart pounding so fiercely in his chest that he thought Potter must be able to feel it with their proximity. His mouth was dry but he forced himself to speak, trying to sound casual although he felt anything but.
“Potter, have you just come out to me?”
“I guess so,” came the reply.
Draco didn’t know what to say. So he just lay there holding Potter, warm and pliant in his arms and let his heart rate subside as his mind raced. His thoughts were as confused and turbulent as the flakes of snow that had tumbled from the sky around them earlier. Draco desperately wanted to pull Potter round so he could see his face. So he could see whether there was even a tiny chance that Potter might want to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss Potter. But he couldn’t find the courage and so he lay still, afraid to move, afraid to take the chance and the moment passed.
Gradually Draco relaxed again and his mind emptied as his breathing slowed, the thoughts trickling away until all that remained was an awareness of Potter’s warm body pressed against his and the gentle whispering of the wind in the branches above him... and then he slept.
He reached Potter’s mouth and kissed him fiercely, licking his way in to taste him, thrilling as Potter moaned and ground his erection into Draco’s. Draco pulled back, needing to breathe, to calm his fierce flood of arousal. He buried his nose in the other boy’s hair and breathed in the warm boyish scent, pushing his hips into Potter’s.
“Gods, I want you...” he murmured, grasping Potter’s hips and pulling him even closer, pressing their bodies together as his cock strained, desperate to be touched. But then Potter wriggled and twisted in his arms making Draco frown and clutch him tighter.
Draco felt a sudden shock of cold air and the corridor melted then dropped away as he swam up through layers of confusion into unwelcome consciousness. He lay still, frozen with dawning horror and realisation as he gradually catalogued which parts of his dream equated to reality.
Harry Potter was certainly in his arms, and Draco was indeed holding his hips in a bruising grip. His nose was lodged firmly in the sweet-smelling hair at the back of Potter’s neck and the warm scent filled Draco’s nostrils. But the kissing had been a dream, and Potter’s compliance and enthusiasm had also been a cruel construct of Draco’s fantasies. He was suddenly horribly aware that not-dream Potter was rigid in Draco’s arms, breathing fast and clearly wide awake. Draco’s erection was also real. He was hard and aching and had been grinding his cock against Potter’s arse like a randy crup. There was no way on earth that Potter could have failed to notice.
Mortification swept through Draco in a sickening wave. He jerked away, pulling his hands back from Potter’s hips as though they were burning him and rolled onto his back. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.
“Fuck! I’m so sorry, Potter,” his voice cracked, rough with sleep and humiliation. “I was dreaming, I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s okay,” Potter interrupted rolling over to look at him with earnest green eyes, vulnerable without his glasses covering them. “Really, Malfoy, I...”
“It’s not fucking okay,” Malfoy snapped, his cheeks flaming as he pulled his hands away from his face and glared at Potter. “This is so far from okay it would be laughable if it wasn’t so fucking embarrassing. Can we please just forget this ever happened?”
Potter flushed too and bit his lip. “If that’s what you want.”
“Of course it’s what I bloody want, I’d Obliviate myself if I thought it was worth the risk.”
“Right,” Potter voice was cold and terse. He rolled away from Draco and sat up, stretching and reaching for his wand to cast Tempus. “Merlin’s bollocks!” he exclaimed. “Malfoy, we’ve slept most of the night away, it’s five in the morning now.”
Draco sat up in alarm. “Shit! They’ll have sent out a search party by now. We should have sent a message last night saying that we were all right.”
“Well, we thought we’d make it back before curfew,” Potter’s voice was worried. “We didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He crawled over to stick his head out from under the edge of the branches and wriggled back in quickly, brushing snow off his hair. “It’s stopped at last, so we can head back. I’ll send a Patronus to Mc Gonagall now so they’ll know not to worry.”
With a practised flick of his wand, Potter muttered the incantation and his stag Patronus burst forth from the tip of his wand and disappeared through the branches of the tree. They turned their blankets back into coats and pulled on their outer layers. They were both focused on the need to get back to the castle. Draco was relieved for the distraction and thankful that the snow had stopped. He just wanted to get away from Potter so that he could die of embarrassment in peace. The thought of having to spend any more time in the Gryffindor’s company was excruciating.
It was still dark outside, but with wand-light to guide them they could easily see the road. The snow was thick, dragging wetly at their ankles and one or other of them would stumble occasionally. Each time they clutched each other instinctively for support but released their grip immediately. They walked in uncomfortable silence but Draco had no desire to break it. Potter finally spoke as they reached the edge of the school grounds.
“Thank you,” he muttered, not looking at Draco.
“What for?” Draco asked in surprise.
“For being honest with me, and for answering my questions last night.” He paused now and Draco stopped too, turning reluctantly to face Potter who met his gaze determinedly. “I appreciate it, and it helped me work some things out.”
“So you’re sure, then?” Draco raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to tell your friends?”
Potter nodded. “I think so, not all at once, but gradually. I’ll probably talk to Hermione first; she can help me break it to Ron – and Ginny.” He winced visibly and looked down at his feet.
“Yes, good luck with that,” Draco said wryly.
“And Malfoy... about the whole dream thing...” his eyes drifted back up to hold Draco’s gaze. “I really...”
“Blame Oliver Wood,” Draco cut in swiftly, trying to make light of it, barely registering as Potter’s face fell slightly. “He still has a habit of cropping up in them sometimes even though I haven’t seen him for years. Silly really. I’m sorry for involving you in my dream-humping though.”
“Right, Wood. Of course,” Harry murmured frowning. “Honestly, Malfoy, it’s fine. Forget it.”
He turned away and they carried on walking, silence stretching out between them again.
When Draco got back to the Slytherin dungeon later in the morning, Pansy was desperate for details of what had happened with Potter and him. Draco fobbed her off, claiming exhaustion and escaped to bed. He spent the rest of Sunday pretending to sleep, while he lay in his bed with the curtains drawn around him and cursed his existence.
Draco spent the next few days moping and curling up with mortification every time he recalled what had happened with Potter.
He still watched Potter whenever he got the chance. He couldn’t help it, his eyes were drawn to the Gryffindor whenever they had a lesson together, or across the Great Hall at mealtimes. But before, Potter would never catch Draco’s eye and never seemed to notice that he was being watched. Now, however, Draco kept finding the green eyes meeting his and holding his gaze.
The first time it happened, across the classroom during a particularly dull Charms lesson, Potter smiled at him. Just a shy curve of his lips that almost made Draco grin back in response before his embarrassment at the whole dream-frotting fiasco rushed in and swamped him. He felt his cheeks flush and looked away quickly, his heart twisting in his chest.
After that Potter didn’t smile at him again, in fact he seemed to be looking rather miserable whenever Draco took the opportunity to examine him. But every time Draco’s eyes were on him he always seemed to manage to catch him looking. And every time, Draco looked away, his face flaming.
Potter seemed to be spending a lot of time with Hermione Granger; Draco kept noticing them huddled together. He assumed that Potter had confided in her about his sexuality, but he wondered whether he had also told her about Draco’s. On more than one occasion he caught Granger looking at him speculatively and guessed that Potter probably had. He wondered uncomfortably exactly how much Potter had told her about the events of that unfortunate night.
One evening, he was interrupted from a particularly indulgent self-pity session by Pansy. She pushed through the curtains around his four-poster and sat cross-legged next to him on the bed.
“For fuck’s sake, Pansy,” he grumbled. “Haven’t you heard of asking if you can come in first? I might have been having a wank.”
“I assume that you would have locked your curtains if you were,” she replied tartly. “Now,” she took his hand. “Are you going to tell me what on earth happened with Potter, or am I going to have to get my hands on some Veritaserum?” Her voice softened and she squeezed his hand gently. “Seriously Draco, darling, you’re miserable, and I’m worried about you. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
He sighed heavily and cast a Silencing Charm to ensure that they wouldn’t be overheard. Pansy might be an interfering pain in the arse at times, but she was a good friend and he trusted her. He took a deep breath and started to speak.
“Oh, Salazar!” Pansy gasped when he got to the part about the dream-humping. “But what did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything,” Draco sighed, meeting her concerned brown eyes. “I apologised and he mumbled and it was all very fucking awkward. Then we pretty much pretended that it hadn’t happened, except it had. And it’s just awful, Pans, because I still really fucking like him.”
“Well at least now you know that he’s definitely gay,” Pansy offered. “Maybe you’re still in with a chance. You did talk to him before that happened, and you said yourself that you were getting on okay.”
Draco snorted. “Bollocks. I totally blew it. He must think I’m a complete twat after my performance. He’d barely come out of the closet and I ended up rutting against him like some over-sexed buffoon. Seriously, I wish it was actually possible to die from embarrassment because that would be preferable to my life right now.”
Draco went on into breakfast feeling uneasy. Pansy slid into her usual seat a few minutes later with a smug little smile lurking at the corners of her lips that did nothing to reassure Draco.
“What were you talking to Granger about?” he asked.
“Oh, just some Potions homework that I needed her help with,” Pansy replied breezily.
“You could have asked me,” Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“I suppose I could,” she shrugged, reaching for some toast. “But I didn’t want to bother you; you’ve got enough on your mind this week.”
Draco frowned, but let the subject drop. He knew Pansy well enough to know that she was up to something. But she clearly wasn’t going to tell him about it.
After school that day Draco was in the library trying to concentrate on his homework. He had got behind with his studies because his concentration was shot to pieces. He really needed to get back on track. Pansy had persuaded him to bring his books and work in the library instead of in the Slytherin common room, insisting that a change of scenery would do him good. He’d only agreed because he knew that it was likely that Potter would be there too, it was often his habit to work in the library after school. Draco couldn’t resist the chance to torture himself with a glimpse of the Gryffindor, so he joined Pansy at their usual table.
Sure enough, Potter was there. Sitting next to Granger, along with Weasley and Longbottom. Draco’s sharp eyes noted that Granger’s eyes flicked to Pansy as they took their seats and Granger gave Pansy a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. But then Draco was distracted by the line of Potter’s jaw and the shadow of stubble that lurked there. He lost himself in thoughts of how it would feel under his fingertips or under his tongue, and totally forgot about Pansy and Granger and their knowing looks.
Pansy was working on a History of Magic essay. Draco wondered why on earth she’d decided to take the subject this year, she was always moaning about how dull it was. She had a pile of ancient-looking books in front of her and was flipping through them intently, frowning in exasperation.
“I can’t find what I need in any of these,” she muttered.
She got up and drifted down one of the aisles. She was gone for a few minutes and when she returned she was empty-handed.
“Draco,” she leaned in close and whispered. “Could you be a dear and give me a hand for a second? I think I’ve found the book I need for this essay, but it’s right on the top shelf of a storage cupboard. I daren’t try and levitate it in case I bring the whole lot crashing down, but I think you’ll be able to reach it.”
Draco slid his chair back and followed her, passing close to the Gryffindor table as he went. Potter glanced up as he passed, and looked away again quickly as their eyes met.
The walk-in cupboard that Pansy led him to was at the far end of a dark aisle. It was used to store damaged books that were waiting for repair and was dark and dusty, crammed with floor to ceiling shelves covered in tatty old books and manuscripts. Draco strode in and turned to look at Pansy who hovered in the doorway.
“Which one is it then, Pans?” he asked.
“That one, up there,” she pointed, lighting her wand tip to show him. “The one with the dark red cover that’s just sticking out slightly.”
He stood on tiptoes, straining to reach it but he couldn’t quite get his fingertips to it. “I’ll need to climb up a little,” he said. “Isn’t there a step ladder somewhere?”
Just then he heard footsteps approaching and the murmur of voices.
“Merlin, Hermione, don’t you have enough books to read without needing broken ones too?”
The voice was unmistakeable and Draco stiffened in alarm.
“Sorry, Harry but I really need it for this homework. If you could just try...” Granger’s voice trailed off as they appeared in the doorway. “Oh, hello... Pansy, Malfoy,” she said stiffly. “I just needed Harry to get a book down for me.”
“Which one is it then, Hermione?” Potter sidled past the girls into the cupboard, looking up at the shelves, avoiding Draco’s eye and keeping as much distance between them as possible.
Suddenly the boys were plunged into darkness as the door of the cupboard slammed, with the unmistakeable sound of the lock clicking shut.
“What the fuck?” Draco exclaimed. He stumbled blindly in the direction of the door and crashed into the warm body of Potter who had obviously done the same. They froze, caught in an awkward tangle of limbs and then lost their balance, tumbling to the floor.
“Sorry, boys.” Pansy’s voice didn’t sound remotely apologetic. “But we’re fed up of the two of you moping around, so we’re staging an intervention. You need to talk to each other, so we’re leaving you in there for two hours.”
“You’d better make the most of it,” Granger’s voice added. “Don’t bother trying to unlock the door because the charms I’ve used are bomb-proof.”
“And just to get your conversation started,” Pansy spoke again. “Harry – Draco’s fancied you for ages and he was dreaming about you, not Oliver Wood. And Draco – Harry likes you too and was actually rather enjoying the accidental-dream frotting.”
Granger let out a shocked giggle. “Merlin, Pansy, I can’t believe you just said that.” Then she raised her voice again. “I’m sorry about our unsubtle methods. But I hope you’ll thank us for this eventually. Good luck.”
Draco groaned, partly with embarrassment, and partly because Potter’s elbow had jammed uncomfortably in his belly as they fell. They were still lying unmoving, paralysed by the hideous awkwardness of the situation.
“Bloody hell,” Potter finally spoke. “We’ve been ambushed. I can’t believe they’ve done this.”
Draco shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. He settled for sitting up and leaning back against a shelf full of books. He felt Potter move to sit next to him, their shoulders touching.
“Lumos?” Draco suggested.
“Actually I’d rather not just now, if that’s okay,” Potter’s voice sounded very close. “The dark makes this whole thing a little less embarrassing.”
Draco chuckled, relieved. The darkness was strangely comforting and added a welcome layer of unreality to the situation.
“So,” Draco took a deep breath in through his nose, gathering his courage. “Is it true then? That you like me.”
“Um... yeah,” Potter admitted. Draco could imagine the blush that would be painting his cheeks at the quiet admission.
“As in fancy me?” Draco persisted. Now that they were having this conversation he wanted to be absolutely certain of Potter’s intentions.
“Yes,” Potter’s voice was slightly croaky and Draco felt an unfamiliar rush of tenderness.
“And you weren’t horrified when I molested you in your sleep?” Draco felt his own cheeks heat at the memory and his prick began to stir hopefully.
“Uh... no,” Potter replied and his voice dropped to a whisper as he continued. “That was pretty much the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me actually.”
The jolt of heat that shot to Draco’s groin at that admission took away his ability to speak for a moment. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his breathing became shaky and shallow. He couldn’t find any words that seemed appropriate, so he went for actions instead.
He carefully shifted his position until he was straddling Potter’s thighs, the rustling of their robes and the sound of their breathing suddenly loud in the enclosed space. He lifted his hands and felt his way to Potter’s face in the dark, tracing the line of his cheekbones with careful thumbs and sliding his hands into the thick, surprisingly-soft hair.
He felt Potter’s hands tentatively find his hips and rest there. “Malfoy?” Potter’s voice was breathless and uncertain.
Draco answered him by leaning in and brushing his lips across Potter’s jaw. The stubble he’d been admiring earlier was rough and made Draco’s lips tingle. He found Potter’s mouth and his lips were soft and wet, as though Potter had just licked them. They kissed, tentatively at first. But then Draco felt Potter’s lips part and their tongues met in a beautiful slide that made Draco moan helplessly into Potter’s mouth as his fingers tightened their grip on his hair.
Potter’s hands were moving now. Sliding under Draco’s robes to clutch his arse and pull him closer until their erections rubbed together through entirely too many layers of clothing. Potter groaned and moved his mouth down Draco’s neck, licking and sucking as he bucked his hips upwards.
Emboldened by the darkness that still surrounded them, Draco moved one hand from Potter’s hair, reaching down between them to explore the outline of Potter’s cock through the fabric of his trousers. Draco traced the head tentatively with his fingers and Potter cursed and jerked under him. Driven by a desperate urge for more, Draco brought his other hand down and fumbled with Potter’s flies.
“Is this okay?” he muttered, half wishing he could see Potter’s face but not wanting to risk breaking the mood.
“Merlin, yes!” Potter breathed as Draco finally managed to free Potter’s prick and curled his fingers around the silky-hot skin.
Potter’s lips were on Draco’s again now. They kissed, hard and frantic between gasping breaths as Draco moved his hand over Potter’s cock. He smeared the wetness at the tip with his thumb and decided he needed to taste it. Potter made a small sound of disappointment as Draco moved his hand away. But the Draco pulled on his shoulders, shoving him down to lie on the floor and Potter moaned helplessly as Draco crawled down his body and licked his cock hungrily.
“Oh, Malfoy... Fuck!” His voice cracked, and Malfoy felt Potter’s hands twist into his hair.
“I’d love to, Potter,” Draco murmured between wet strokes of his tongue. “But I don’t want our first time to be in a cupboard.”
Potter let out a chuckle that turned into a gasp as Draco’s lips closed around the head of his prick. Draco took him in as deep as he could manage, which turned out to be quite a satisfyingly long way. Potter’s cock was a good size, straight and thick, and Draco explored the texture with his tongue as he sucked. Potter was making deliciously incoherent noises and his fingers tightened in Draco’s hair as his hips shifted in increasingly urgent movements.
“Fuck... I’m close...” He pulled at Draco’s head, trying to move his mouth away, but Draco hummed and sucked him deeper. He felt Potter’s cock pulse in his mouth as he uttered a hoarse cry and came in salty spurts on Draco’s tongue. Draco pulled off briefly to swallow, wincing a little at the bitterness, then took Potter’s prick back in his mouth. He licked it clean as Potter slid his fingers through Draco’s hair, gentle now, his breathing ragged.
Draco finally let Potter’s cock slip from his mouth and crawled up to kiss him again. His own prick was painfully hard and sticking to his pants. He reached down to adjust himself and bumped knuckles with Potter whose hand was reaching for Draco’s fly.
“That was amazing,” Potter whispered against Draco’s lips. “I want to taste you, too.”
“Oh fuck... yes.” Draco’s cock twitched happily and he flipped hastily over onto his back, helping Potter to undo his button and zip and shove his trousers and pants down around his hips. Potter pushed Draco’s shirt up and ran warm hands over Draco’s abdomen, following them with his lips and tongue. He kissed a wet trail from hip bone to hip bone and Draco groaned impatiently, hitching his hips.
Potter moved lower, nosing through the soft hair at Draco’s groin and paused there to inhale and hum appreciatively. Draco’s prick twitched again as he hissed.
“Harry,” Potter murmured against his balls, his hot breath tickling deliciously. “If I’m going to do this, I want you to call me Harry.”
Draco let out a gust of breathless laughter. “Okay... Harry it is then... please!”
Draco was rewarded by the incredible sensation of Potter’s – Harry’s – hot mouth closing around the head of his cock and drawing him in with a swirl of tongue. He sucked messily and inexpertly, but what he lacked in technique, he more than made up for with typically-Gryffindorish enthusiasm. Draco was soon panting and clutching at Harry’s hair and trying not to come embarrassingly quickly. But he was fighting a losing battle.
“Fuck!” His body contorted, hips bucking wildly as his cock erupted before he could give Harry a proper warning.
Harry choked as his mouth was filled Draco’s come and he jerked back and spluttered a little, but then his mouth returned to Draco’s cock and carried on sucking determinedly. Through his orgasmic haze, the thought occurred to Draco that having a Gryffindor as a boyfriend might have definite advantages.
Once his cock was softening in Harry’s mouth, Draco tugged on a handful of Harry’s hair and pulled him off. He dragged the other boy up and kissed him, exploring his slick lips and chasing the taste of himself in Harry’s mouth. Eventually they separated and Draco fumbled for his wand.
“I’m a bit messy, do you mind some light while we clean up?”
“Okay,” Harry muttered, sounding suddenly awkward again.
“Lumos.” The tip of Draco’s wand glowed and he blinked in the sudden brightness.
Harry lifted his head off Draco’s chest and their eyes locked. Harry was flushed and sweaty, his hair was even more unruly than usual and he had a smear of something suspiciously white and sticky on his cheek. He had never looked more delectable.
Draco flicked his wand and muttered a quick Cleaning Charm, barely registering the uncomfortably chilly tingle at his groin as Harry’s lips curved in a shy smile. Draco felt his face break into an answering smile and they grinned at each other foolishly for a moment.
Draco tucked his wand between two books to give them light while they sat up and straightened their clothing, tucking themselves away and doing up buttons and zips. When they were done they sat facing each other and grinned again. Draco leaned forwards and swiped at Harry’s cheek with his thumb.
“You’re sticky,” he murmured.
Harry chuckled and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “Thanks, Malfoy.”
Draco raised his eyebrows. “If you’re going to be my boyfriend, you can’t carry on calling me by my surname.” He waited hopefully.
Harry’s face broke into a grin, “I guess not. Draco it is then.”
“So...” Draco licked his lips thoughtfully. “Now that we’ve established that you’re my boyfriend, can you get your arse back over here and kiss me again? I reckon we have at least an hour until the girls come back and let us out. Let’s not waste it.”
“I hope those Silencing Charms worked,” he licked Harry’s shoulder, tasting sweat. “You’re quite noisy when you get going.”
“Pot, cauldron, black.” Harry chuckled and wriggled his bare arse against Draco’s prick. “If you hadn’t been moaning so loudly earlier, we’d have heard the girls knocking on the cupboard door.”
“Yes well,” Draco felt his face flush as he recalled the compromising position they’d been caught in earlier. “It’s very difficult not to moan when you do that thing with your tongue. They should have tried knocking louder, instead of just barging in. I mean, honestly. What did they think we were going to be doing in there?”
Harry laughed. “True, they only have themselves to blame. I think Pansy quite enjoyed it actually, but I’m not sure Hermione will ever be able to look me in the eye again.”
Draco chuckled, relaxing and enjoying the warm heaviness of Harry in his arms. He slid his hands over Harry’s ribs, pulling him closer. “This is nice. So much more comfortable than being in a dusty cupboard.”
“Mmm.” Harry hummed his agreement. “So, is it okay if I stay?”
“I was hoping you would,” Draco replied sleepily, his lips brushing Harry’s warm skin. “Although this time I definitely can’t promise not to molest you.”
Harry chuckled. “Just to be clear, I’m totally on board with any dream-humping that might occur as long as you’re dreaming about me.”
“I’d say that’s very likely,” Draco murmured with a smile.