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Two Things About Harry Potter

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Draco knows two things. One, Harry Potter is a freak who keeps staring at him. And two, Potter has some weird fascination with the shittiest piece of parchment Draco has ever seen.

“Have you ever thought about getting a new hobby?” Draco drawls, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you ever thought about… uh…” Potter flounders, his hand clenching around the paper, scrunching it up further.

“Smooth, Potter.” He can’t help but smirk. The usual spike of adrenaline rushes through him. It doesn't ever go beyond this. Gentle teasing.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Potter’s cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink. He shoves the parchment in his pocket. If it were Draco, the parchment would be in the bin.


Potter’s looking at the parchment again. Not writing on it. Just looking.

“I understand you grew up in a Muggle house, but I’d have thought after seven years you’d know what a piece of parchment looks like.”

“What?” Potter scowls. He’s cute when he scowls. Has he always been cute when he does that?

“The parchment, Potter.” Draco twitches his eyebrow. Potter’s eyes get wide. The parchment gets shoved in his pocket again. Potter really should be more careful with pieces of paper.


“Absolutely.” Draco rolls his eyes, turning back to the wall he is fixing. “Fucking ridiculous.”


“You know I can see you?” Draco doesn’t look up. His fingers tingle.

“What? I’m not… uh…” Potter shuffles on the spot, gesturing at the completely blank and completely solid wall behind him. Draco raises an eyebrow.

“Sure, Potter.” Their eyes meet and Draco thinks he sees something flash in Potter’s. Something hot and interesting.


It’s a map. It’s not a piece of parchment. For once being tall is beneficial.


Potter is looking at the fucking map. Again. It’s distracting Draco from fixing the outer wall.

“You don’t fancy giving a hand, do you, Potter?”

“Sorry?” Draco doesn’t think he’s ever seen a person shove a piece of paper in their pocket as fast as Potter does now.

“No need to apologise. Just get your fine arse over here.” He doesn’t know what’s made him say it. But it’s true. Potter does have a very fine arse. Draco takes a deep breath, controlling the heat threatening to flood his cheeks.

“My… uh… sorry.” Potter is flustered. This man defeated the darkest wizard of all time. And he’s thrown by Draco complementing his arse. He’s almost begging to be teased.

“Stop saying ‘sorry’,” Draco snaps.

“Sorry.” Potter eyes shine, his lower lip caught in his teeth. He has very white teeth.

Draco raises an eyebrow at Potter and he blushes prettily, moving away quickly and bumping into a rock.


He’s wearing his tight trousers. One of the only things he brought from his previous life. He is wearing them because, if Potter is going to insist on staring at him, he may as well have a little bit of fun.

“Enjoying the view?” Draco wiggles his arse, his eyebrows raised and his voice strong.

Potter squeaks behind him and vanishes.


He Accio’s the map with a swish of his wand. It’s a map of Hogwarts. His name is floating there, above some footprints.


“What mischief, Potter? When’s the last time you did anything for fun?”

It isn’t a scuffle. There isn’t anything angry about it. The bubble of laughter rises in Draco’s chest as he hides the map behind his back. Potter lunges, wrapping his arms around Draco. He’s very close. He’s very warm. Draco presses forward.


If he thought teasing Potter was exciting, it’s nothing compared with kissing him. Draco can feel it in his toes. His legs are weak. His head is light.

Potter tastes like sun, warm and powerful and crackling with energy. Draco’s hands lace through his hair. It’s softer than he thought it would be. They’re so close he can feel Potter’s muscles beneath his shirt. Didn’t he used to be skinny? And when did they end up on the ground?


Kissing Potter is better than anything he has ever done before. Ever. Potter is heavy on top of him, his thick thigh between Draco’s. Potter’s hands are running along his body. Potter’s mouth is on his jaw. He smells so fucking good. Draco can’t feel his limbs. He doesn’t need to.

Glancing up at the map he sees Potter’s name covering his. Fuck that! Wrapping his arms around Potter’s waist he rolls them, pinning Potter underneath him. That’s better.

“Oi…” Potter scowls. His hair is a mess.

“Shut up, Potter.” Draco smiles at him, taking Potter’s mouth with his own.


They shouldn’t be naked in the middle of the day, in full view of the castle. But they are. Potter has a magic mouth.

“I’ve never done this before…” Potter sounds cautious, but his voice is thick and cracked. Draco smirks at him.

“Why am I not surprised.”

“You have?”

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” Draco raises an eyebrow, pressing his erection against Potter’s, making Potter moan and roll his hips.


His cock slides into Potter. There’s a little resistance, but not much. He hasn’t spent the past half an hour opening Potter up and making him writhe on the floor for it to be impossible to get his cock in. He stops when he’s fully seated, letting Potter adjust.

“Are you ok?”

“Getting soft on me, Malfoy?” Potter grins at him, but his jaw is gritted.

“What does it feel like?” Draco rolls his hips again and Potter cries out, clawing at Draco’s back, his cock leaking pre-come between them.


Potter makes the most delicious sound when he comes. It pushes Draco over the edge. He might have shouted Potter’s name.


They lie in the sun, staring up at the sky, barely covered with pieces of discarded clothing. Potter is stroking his hair. For the first time in his life words don’t come to Draco’s head. They don’t need to. The summer breeze cools the sweat on his skin.

If he died now he’d die a happy man.


He hasn’t seen Potter for a couple of days. At least not in person. He closes his eyes, wrapping his hand around his cock as images of Potter beneath him flood his mind. He comes over his chest in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Oh well. There’s no one here to see him.


Potter’s started watching him again. Using that fucking map. Draco needs to get hold of that bloody thing and rip it up. Then Potter would be forced to talk to him.


“It was a terrible idea.” Potter’s cheeks are flushed. He shouldn’t look so fucking delectable if he doesn’t want Draco to kiss him.

“Awful.” Draco smirks.

“We can’t do it again.” Potter’s voice is small, and soft, and the weakest protest Draco’s ever heard.

“Absolutely not.” Draco stalks towards Potter. Potter doesn’t move. His eyes flick to Draco’s mouth.

“Never,” Potter says breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Their teeth clash as their mouths meet.


“Are we doing this?” Potter eyes Draco warily. Draco focuses on his face and not the tight heat surrounding his cock.

“I know you’re unobservant, Potter, but you have my cock in your arse and you ask that?”

“I meant⎼”

“I know what you meant.” Draco ignores how soft his voice sounds.

Draco stops him from talking any more by rolling his hips, pressing in deeper.


“So… are we?” Fucking Potter is tenacious. Draco turns his head to look at him. His green eyes shine with worry.

“Do you want to?” Draco’s heart pounds. Does Draco want to? Potter’s eyes are wide. Yes. He wants to.


“Flattering. Maybe I should go…” Draco moves to stand up, not needing to be turned down by Harry fucking Potter.

“That’s not what I meant!” Potter grabs Draco’s arm, his hair as wild as his eyes. “I’ve only ever been with women… I…”

“Potter,” he tilts Potter’s face to look at his, “I hate to be the one to tell you, but I think you might fancy me.”


“Fuck, Potter!” He bites his lip as hot pleasure flows through him, his legs weak and his head fuzzy.

“Not good?” He looks so worried, so fucking gorgeous, his eyes shining emerald, his lips pink and plump. Draco shakes his head, threading his fingers through Potter’s hair and guiding his mouth back onto Draco’s aching cock.

“Fucking amazing, don’t stop!”

Potter doesn’t. He comes down Potter’s throat.


“The Gryffindor dorms aren’t what I thought they would be.”

“Too much comfort and warmth for you?” Potter’s eyes sparkle behind his ridiculous glasses. Draco smirks, lounging on one of the armchairs. They’re comfortable.

“I just assumed that your face would be hanging on banners everywhere.”

Potter gives him a grin that makes his heart jump. Fuck.


Potter is going to kill him.

“I just want to try rimming you.”

“Where did you even hear about that, Potter!” His voice is embarrassingly cracked, his cock twitching in his trousers.

“I’m not a complete virgin you know…” Potter pouts. Draco raises one eyebrow and they stare at each other for a moment. Potter breaks first. He sighs reluctantly, his cheeks flushing red, “Dean and Seamus told me about it.”


Potter slides back down Draco’s body, his wicked tongue drawing lines on his skin. And then it’s circling Draco’s hole and Draco can’t think.


“So your friends know about us?” He asks a little while later. His chest tightens and his pulse tickles in his fingers. Fuck he feels nervous. Malfoys don’t feel nervous. They definitely don’t fucking show it. He takes a deep breath, schooling his features.

“They know I’m seeing a man.” Potter isn’t meeting his eye.

“Are you going to tell them?” His voice does not sound needy and small. It fucking doesn’t.

“I don’t know.”

Draco ignores the pang of disappointment.


“You really are appalling at chess.”

“I’m better at other things.” Potter grins, wiggling his eyebrows. Draco rolls his eyes, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face.

“Not until I’ve beat you at chess.”


“Do you ever do this?” Potter wiggles his arse a little, sending shivers of pleasure through Draco.


“Uh… bottom…” It takes Draco a moment to focus on the words coming from Potter’s mouth, and not the slick heat surrounding his cock.

“Potter, as the only person I’m fucking at the moment I think you’re more than capable of deciphering what I do and do not do.”

“Do you not like it?” Potter is still talking and Draco sags against his body. Who’d have thought Potter would be a chatty fuck?

“I like it very much. I just know you like it this way round.” Draco thrusts his hips forward, watching Potter shiver with pleasure, to prove his point.

“Can we… uh… can I…” Potter stutters, his eyes unfocused and his voice dripping sex.

Draco grins and pulls out of Potter’s arse.


His lips clash against Potter’s. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to think. He just wants to fuck. He wants to feel Potter, alive and healthy, throbbing inside him.


“I’m sorry about your mum.”

Draco doesn’t say anything for a while.

“I’m sorry about yours.”

Potter’s fingers link through his. They don’t move until the sun streams through the dorm window.


“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

“What, like a real couple, Potter?” Draco raises an eyebrow and Harry smirks back at him.

“Are we not a real couple?”

Draco rolls his eyes, but his heart is fluttering and his stomach is twisting pleasantly. He slings his arm around Potter’s shoulders as they walk to Hogsmeade.


“You should fix things with your top off more often.” Potter’s voice is full of teasing heat and laughter.

Draco shoots Potter a smirk and stretches, enjoying the way Potter’s eyes roam over his bare chest.

“Careful, Potter, or I’ll start to think you only want me for my body.”

“It is a very lovely body.”


Harry is feeling ill. That is the only reason that they are sitting in the Gryffindor dorm, fully clothed, Harry dozing and Draco reading to him. That is the only reason. There is no other reason. Harry snuffles and Draco pauses to look down at him, a soft smile stretching across his face without permission. He strokes Harry’s hair away from his face and Harry’s lips quirk at the corner. Draco’s heart aches. He coughs lightly and continues reading.


It’s a big weekend. Hogwarts is nearly completely fixed. And Harry’s friends are visiting.


“So who’s this guy you’ve been seeing?” Even if Draco hadn’t been walking towards Harry and his friends he would have heard Finnegan.

“Oh… no one who matters. It’s just a bit of fun.”

A cold shiver runs through Draco and he freezes, his mind whirring. Harry’s friends laugh, moving out of the Great Hall.


“Draco!” Potter shouts across the courtyard. Draco thinks about ignoring him.

“Potter.” He stands tall, looking down his nose at Potter, like he’s been taught to all his life.

“Where have you been? McGonagall said you’ve been working on something that needs a lot of patience.”

“Asking after me, Potter? I thought that I don’t matter. That I’m just a bit of fun,” he snaps, hating that Potter is making him lose control. He’s a Malfoy. Malfoy’s don’t lose control.

“You heard…” Potter’s face turns white, the colour draining from it and Draco knows, just knows, that whatever he heard was right. Fuck, why couldn’t Potter just tell him that he’d misheard, the he was wrong?


“Draco… I didn’t mean that…” Potter places a soft hand on Draco’s arm and Draco feels sick, “I didn’t think⎼”

“I find you rarely do.”
Wrenching his arm from Potter’s grasp, he spins on his heel, stalking away before Potter can say anything else. His heart clenches and he feels sick.


Organising potions ingredients is boring fucking work, and doesn’t take enough of his brain to stop him from thinking about scarred, self-righteous wankers.

Also, Potter’s got that fucking map out again, following him around and pretending he isn’t staring at Draco. Fuck him.


“What did you do to him?” Weasley’s voice almost makes him jump. Almost. He’s a Malfoy after all. Malfoy’s don’t jump.

“What did I do to whom?”

“Harry. What did you do?” Fuck. Draco had been hoping Weasley would just go the fuck away. But, no. Apparently not. Ginger prick.

“As far as you’re concerned, nothing.” Draco turns back to the potions ingredients.

“Yeah? Then why has he asked me and Hermione to come back here early? Why is he bloody moping? Why does he keep looking at your fucking name on that fucking map?” Weasley’s voice echoes around the room. Draco stares at a bottle of unicorn hair. There’s a horrible pause and Draco thinks, maybe, Weasley will just leave. No such luck. “You know, when you two started dating I said that it would end in heartbreak. I really wish you’d proved me wrong.”


Ronald Weasley’s words float around Draco’s brain, stopping him from sleeping.


“We need to talk.”

“Hello, Draco, how are you?”

“Cut the shit Gr… uh… Hermione. What has Potter told you?” Hermione puts her book down, her clever eyes flicking over Draco’s face. Draco holds his breath, standing straight, his face impassive. She shrugs and looks back down at her book.

“He told us that you were dating, and that he was very happy. And then he told us that you had overheard something and assumed he didn’t feel anything for you.”

“Is… does he… feel something…” Draco doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He’s usually very good at talking.

“Of course he does,” Hermione looks up, “he always has.” Draco’s chest hurts.

“And you don’t mind?” He doesn’t understand. He was so cruel to them when they were younger. He is horrifically ashamed of his behaviour. How can she forgive him so easily? It’s not like he’s fucking her.

“We want Harry to be happy. He deserves that. If that’s you, that’s good enough.” Fucking Gryffindors. Draco’s heart clenches at the thought of having someone always on his side. He is never going to admit out loud how much he wants that.

“Oh. Thank you.” Draco almost turns away. Almost. These are Harry’s friends. He needs to try. He’d need to try even if they had no connection to Harry. “I’m sorry. For… well, for everything.”

Hermione looks at him for a long time before nodding once and giving him a small smile.

“Apology accepted.”


“I love you.”

Harry looks up, his eyes wide, seemingly shocked that Draco could find him. In the Library. Because Draco doesn’t need a fucking map to know where Harry is going to be. Fucking predictable bell-end. Draco clings to the adrenaline pumping through him. When has he ever been this brave in his life?

“What?” Harry looks at him clearly confused as fuck.

“Do listen, Harry. I love you.” Fucking hell, is he going to have to repeat everything for the rest of his life?

“But… you do?” Ok, so he will have to repeat everything for the rest of his life. What is so hard for Harry to understand?

“Apparently. It’s very inconvenient.” Draco tries to look annoyed, but Harry is beaming at him, his face sunlight and happiness.

“You love me?”

“I won’t say it again.” That’s a lie. He’s lying. He’ll say it as many times as Harry wants to hear it. Not that he’s going to tell Harry that.

There’s a pause. The room feels full of static, magic crackling around them.

Harry’s lips are hard and insistent against Draco’s, his arms wrapped around Draco’s neck.

“I love you too.”

Draco slides his arms around Harry’s waist, kissing him back, planning on never letting him go.