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Sincere Gratitude from the (Heart) Mouth

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It almost doesn’t feel real, leaning his head against the cool glass window, watching as the scenery whips past. Even after a long summer of heartache, tears, celebration and healing Harry isn’t entirely sure he’s ready to return to Hogwarts. It doesn’t quite feel right, stepping into the role of student again after all they’ve been through, but Hermione was adamant that they return to complete their education and what Hermione commands usually goes.

It won’t be all bad; haunted memories and clawing nightmares, solemn reminders of all those lost. No, Harry is sure there will also be peace and comfort to be found within those familiar walls. He’d like to think Eighth year will be a time of renewal, a fresh start for everyone.

Harry’s thoughts are interrupted by the sliding of the compartment door, eyes flicking over to find Draco Malfoy standing there, looking stern and determined. The summer was good to the blond; his hallowed cheeks filled in slightly, pallid complexion flushed with colour and his grey eyes shining with life. Malfoy shifts nervously from foot to foot as the silence continues; Harry openly staring, Ron looking grim and Hermione smiling gently with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Might I have a word with you, Potter?”

“Um, okay,” Harry replies, heart pounding for no apparent reason.

Malfoy’s eyes flicker over Hermione and Ron before he awkwardly clears his throat.


“I don’t think—” Ron begins.

“Of course, Malfoy,” Hermione intercepts smoothly. “Let’s go visit Luna and Neville.”

Ron’s jaw tenses for a moment as he eyes Malfoy suspiciously, but he ends up standing and allowing Hermione to usher him out of the compartment. The door closes behind them with a click and Harry finds himself alone with Malfoy.

“So…” Harry fiddles with clasp on his robes.

“Right,” Malfoy says resolutely, moving over to stand in front of Harry. “I wanted to thank you.”


“For… well for saving the world I guess,” Malfoy shrugs, his hands clenched into tight fists. “And for saving my life, of course… And for—”

“Really, it’s fine, Malfoy. I mean, you’re welcome.”

Why does he feel so awkward and nervous? He must be feeding off Malfoy’s energy somehow; the other boy is fidgeting in front of him, standing much closer than need be.

“No,” Malfoy replies sternly. “I mean… I really want to thank you.”

Malfoy drops to his knees and Harry’s eyes widen in alarm. Is he going to give some long, grateful speech or proclaim his allegiance to Harry in some strange Pureblood tradition? Harry isn’t sure he could handle either option, but before he can interject Malfoy’s hands reach out and start to undo the fastenings on Harry’s trousers.

“Malfoy! What are—”

“Shh, Potter, just let me thank you.”

Harry’s face heats up and he opens his mouth to argue but all the protests die on his lips as Malfoy reaches into the slit of his pants and starts to massage his half-hard cock. Oh, Merlin. This is complete madness, Harry knows he needs to put a stop to it and yet he finds himself spreading his legs wider as Malfoy moves between them, pulling Harry’s cock out of his pants. Bad idea, terrible idea, Harry’s mind screams as his hands reach out and, instead of pushing Malfoy away, sink into his hair as Malfoy’s hot, wet mouth envelopes his now fully hard cock.

Malfoy’s tongue is talented, swirling around the swollen tip of his prick as he his hand strokes his shaft causing Harry’s toes to curl in absolute delight. Harry’s not completely inexperienced, he fooled around with Ginny a bit before they broke up over the summer, yet he’s never felt anything like this before. The warmth from Malfoy’s mouth, the gentle appreciative hums as he bobs up and down, and the flicker of desire in those stormy eyes all drive Harry wild. His cock aches for release, heart pounding and bollocks tense as Malfoy swallows Harry whole, his free hand pressing against his own straining prick.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip in a vain attempt to suppress the moans spilling out of his mouth, as Malfoy picks up speed and takes Harry deeper into that delicious heat.

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry cries, hands pulling on the silky strands of Malfoy’s hair. “I’m gonna come, oh fuck I’m coming.”

Harry’s prick explodes, throbbing as he spills his release into Malfoy’s mouth, the eager blond swallowing every last drop. He pulls off with a wet pop, his lips shiny and swollen as he favours Harry with a cocky smile.

“What the hell was that?” Harry feels dizzy and sated, bewildered and delirious from pleasure.

“I just wanted to express my gratitude,” Malfoy replies, wiping his mouth and standing up, the rigid outline of his erection vivid against his thin trousers. Any wave of guilt Harry might have felt is washed away with the solid evidence that Malfoy clearly enjoyed himself as well.

“That’s an interesting way to say thank you,” Harry replies, still a little dumbfounded.

“Would you have preferred a box of chocolates?” Malfoy smirks, straightening his robes.

Harry shakes his head, dazedly tucking himself back into his pants as Malfoy heads towards the compartment door.

“Wait,” Harry calls out.

“Yes?” Malfoy asks, turning around to face Harry.

“Er, Shouldn’t I… I mean, don’t you need some help with that?” Harry flushes, gesturing towards the bulge straining against Malfoy’s trousers.

“I’m better off taking care of this myself. If I allow you to help out then you and I are back to where we started, and I’ll have to think of new, creative ways to thank you all over again.”

“That’s fine,” Harry stutters, face growing warm. “I don’t really mind, that is… if you don’t.”

“No, Potter.” Malfoy grins devilishly, walking over to Harry as he undoes his trousers and pulls out his hard cock. “I don’t mind at all.”

Harry sinks to his knees and opens his mouth, closing his eyes as Malfoy guides his prick between his lips. Malfoy tastes salty and warm, like a bright summer day, and Harry hums happily around his mouthful. Harry still isn’t entirely sure what to expect when they arrive at Hogwarts, but something tells him it’s going to be a very interesting year.