Draco had made a decision. He was going to make a move on Harry Potter. By some miracle they were actually friends, had been for some time, but Draco was more than ready to take things farther. When Hermione had let slip to him that Harry’s boyfriend Sean wouldn’t be attending Pansy Parkinson’s Halloween party, Draco knew he had to take his chance.
He’d been attracted to Potter for a long time. He suspected the feeling was mutual but that Harry, being the good Gryffindor and boyfriend that he was, tried to minimize it. They’d shared a kiss once, earlier that year. It was New Year’s Eve and they were all drunk on Seamus’ party punch. Draco doubted if Harry remembered it, but he did. He remembered how Harry’s body had responded to his. He remembered how much he’d liked the sounds he’d pulled out of Harry. It had been only a few minutes of hot, open-mouthed kissing in an empty bathroom before they were interrupted- Ron had passed out and Harry needed to help Hermione get him through the floo- but Draco hadn’t stopped thinking about in the subsequent months. There was something Harry had said that had stuck with him. I’ve always wanted to do this. It could have been drunken nonsense, but Draco didn’t think so.
In any case, they’d never revisited that night. Things went back to the way they’d always been. They joked- flirted, Blaise said, but that was neither here nor there- and traded sarcastic barbs and stayed away from the subject of any feelings they might have for one another aside from thinly veiled exasperation. Then came Sean.
Sean. Draco couldn’t stand him. There was nothing particularly offensive about him. He was unremarkable and unrefined. He was average looking and nice enough but there was nothing memorable about him. He and Harry looked like a mismatched pair when they stood together. The eye slipped right over Sean and fixed onto Harry’s bright eyes, his wry mouth, his sharp, lickable jaw. They’d been dating for a few months now and Draco could not for the life of him understand the appeal. How could someone like that capture Harry’s attention and affection? He was bland, pedestrian. Sean was fish and chips- fine if you were in a pinch, readily available- but Draco was lobster. It seemed so obvious.
This would be the first night in months that the Hogwarts gang had gotten together without Sean hanging on Harry’s arm and Draco was going to make the most of it. He had the feeling that Harry wanted him. He just needed to be reminded that Draco was an option.
Draco arrived at Pansy’s late, close to ten o’clock. He knew that Harry and Ron could get a bit rowdy when left to their own devices, nevermind when Dean and Seamus were present. Those giddy Gryffindors were always trying to outdrink each other or daring one another to mix drinks into disgusting concoctions. Draco didn’t want Harry to be wasted yet, just a bit loosened up. Draco took a few shots of Dragon Barrel Brandy himself before heading over.
When he walked into Pansy’s living room, Harry was the first person to catch his eye and came loping over.
“You’re here,” Harry said with a warm, loose grin. “Thought you weren’t coming.”
“And disappoint everyone? I don’t think so,” Draco said, giving Harry a once over. He was wearing slim black jeans and a fitted chambray shirt that made his chest and shoulders look rather delectable. “How drunk are you?”
“I’m not!” Harry protested, laughing. Together they approached the bar, being manned by Seamus, of course. “Just a little...tipsy.”
“Not on my watch!” Seamus bellowed, slapping two cups down on the bar and ladling a dangerous looking green liquid into them.
“Finnegan, is that party punch?” Draco asked with a delicate arch of his brow. He tried to keep the smile off his face. Seamus grinned proudly, inching the cups toward their intended recipients.
“We’re going to get into trouble,” Harry warned, his eyes darting to Draco. “Bottoms up.” They picked up their cups and tipped them back. Draco felt the potency of the punch in the flood of heat that swept over him.
“Christ, Seamus, you’ll kill us all with that,” Draco laughed.
“I love this stuff,” Harry sighed wistfully.
“Please don’t throw up on any of Pansy’s things tonight,” Draco cautioned, waving to Neville and Greg who had just exited the kitchen. “I’ll be hearing about it for weeks.”
“I would never,” Harry said, sounding scandalized. “Oh my god I have to piss.”
“Thank you so much for that illuminating tidbit,” Draco replied, wincing. He shoved Harry’s shoulder in the direction of the toilet. “Go do that, then.” He was tempted to follow the Gryffindor to the loo but he really didn’t need to watch Potter urinate. He watched the Gryffindor saunter away, the denim hugging his arse in the most alluring way.
Draco worked his way around the room, saying hello to his fellow Slytherins and chatting briefly with Luna about her newfound interest in Hinkypunk music, something Draco hadn’t previously known existed. He drifted over to Ron who, as usual, appeared ahead of the game as far as drunkenness went. The redhead greeted Draco with an especially enthusiastic clap on the back. It was a lucky thing he didn’t have a drink in his hand or it would have sloshed everywhere.
“Having a good time, are we?” Draco asked, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. Ron admitted that he was, his grin more goofy and open that it would be under sober circumstances. He cast a wary glance around the room before slinging an arm over Draco’s shoulder.
“Listen, Malfoy, you should just go for it. With Harry, I mean,” Ron confided. The edges of his words were soft, ever so slightly slurred with drink. “Sean is boring and we all know it.”
“Pardon me?” Draco was more amused than surprised. Ron would not normally be so conspiratorial. It was unlikely that he’d remember this exchange by the time the night was over.
“Just ask him out, already. I’m telling you it’ll all be fine.” Ron reassured him with a saucy wink that made Draco snort with laughter. “Oh- don’t tell him I said that. It’s a secret!”
“Hang on, what’s a secret?”
“Ron!” Their heads snapped up at the knowing sharpness in Hermione’s voice. From across the room she had fixed her eyes on their bent heads. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing!” Ron protested squeakily. To Malfoy he muttered, “Gotta go.”
Draco watched as he drunkenly vaulted over the back of the couch, very nearly smashing his face on Pansy’s coffee table. He stumbled to safety just in time, the move garnering a smattering of applause from Finnegan and Longbottom, of course. Hermione corralled Ron over to a chair and sat in his lap, presumably to keep him from wandering off for the time being. Draco surveyed the other party goers, thinking. Should he be concerned that Ron- and presumably Granger, too- knew about his apparent attraction to Harry? Probably.
It’s a secret. That’s what Weasley had said. What was a secret? Had Harry said something to him about being dissatisfied with Sean? Had Harry implied that he’d be open to an advance from Draco? Was this simply the unreliable blathering of a drunk man? Draco supposed that was as definitive of an answer as he was ever going to get. Feeling the thrum of alcohol in his veins and a sudden impatience to have his mouth on Potter’s, he went in search of the other man.
Harry was in the hall nearest Pansy’s room, squinting at a portrait of a bygone Parkinson. The man was sitting at a table with a severed foot resting on the surface.
“Lost this in a wand misfire, you see,” the painted man explained, smoothing the front of his deep lapis robes. Harry nodded mutely, turning as Draco rounded the corner.
“Talking to pictures, Potter? Surely you could find better conversation out there?” Draco joked, nodding toward the living room. A squawk- Dean, perhaps?- sounded from the assemblage and Harry grinned.
“It just caught my eye on the way back. Honestly, you wizards paint some weird stuff,” Harry sighed, shaking his head.
“ You’re a wizard, in case you’d forgotten,” Draco drawled, tilting his head to the side to survey Harry.
“Yes, well…” Harry trailed off. Draco knew he wasn’t imagining it when Harry’s eyes, glinting with mirth, dipped down his body in a silent appraisal. This was Draco’s moment.
“Listen, Potter, I have a proposition for you,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. Harry shot him a skeptical look.
“No way, Malfoy. I don’t know how someone so bad at quidditch was able to predict the score so accurately but I am not betting against you again. Not going to happen.” Harry shook his head, a rueful expression on his face.
“It’s not about that,” Draco said, shoving Harry playfully against the wall and holding him there. He chose to ignore the dig about his skills as a seeker for the time being, focusing instead on the solid muscle his fingertips could feel through the material of Harry’s shirt.
“Oh?” Harry asked, sounding equally wary and intrigued. His mouth formed a perfect little circle. Draco wanted to bite his bottom lip.
“I think you should break up with Sean.” It sounded casual, perfectly offhand, just the way he’d practiced. Harry gave a surprised laugh.
“That’s not really a proposition, is it? More of suggestion, really.”
Draco rolled his eyes.
“Do you disagree?” he retorted, one brow curving upward in interest. Harry’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, the protest he knew he should make evading him. Malfoy smirked triumphantly. “You see, I think you could do better than Sean. I think he’s a bit...unremarkable.”
“He’s very nice,” Harry said lamely. His breath hitched as Malfoy’s right hand slid down his left arm to circle his wrist. The fingers burned hot against the skin beneath his shirt cuff.
“You want to try saying that again with a little more conviction?” Draco quipped. He took a step backward, pushing open the door to Pansy’s bedroom with his foot. Harry let himself be drawn over the threshold into the dark room.
“So, what, you’re saying I should be with you instead?” Harry asked, watching incredulously as Draco shut the door and turned on the little lamp on Pansy’s bedside table.
“Something like that,” Draco admitted archly. He stepped closer to Harry again, crowding him a little against the closed door. Harry breathed deeply, unable to resist the warm musk of Draco’s cologne. “That’s where the proposition comes in. If you can give me ten reasons that compel you to stay with Sean, I might actually believe you. More importantly, I won’t try to convince you to break up with him anymore.”
Before Harry could respond, Draco pressed forward, pushing Harry back against the door as their mouths met. His body ignited with desire at the soft moan of acquiescence Harry made into his mouth. Draco’s tongue flicked out, teasing Harry’s bottom lip, wordlessly asking for permission to enter. Draco felt Harry’s hands grasp his hips and took it as his cue to rock them forward, letting his half-hard cock brush Harry’s, which was also awakening. Harry’s lips parted and Draco’s tongue swirled over his. He cupped Harry’s jaw with his hand, holding him in place as he plundered the Gryffindor’s mouth authoritatively. Harry whimpered against him, pulling their hips tighter together. Draco finally broke the seal of their mouths with a quiet laugh.
Harry’s lips were shining in the low light, his pupils deep black and wide.
“Are you ready to start?” he purred, stroking a thumb along Harry’s angular, stubbled jaw. No. I can’t. I have a boyfriend. The excuses sprang readily to his lips but Harry found himself unwilling and unable to utter them. He’d already crossed the line; what was the point of turning back now? The mere thought of being with Draco made him more giddy and eager than the reality of being with Sean did.
“Isn’t that what we were just doing?” Harry asked dazedly. His hands tried to draw Draco back to him but the Slytherin shook his head, tutting theatrically.
“This is the part where you tell me why you like Sean, remember? Your boyfriend?” Draco turned his attention to Harry’s jeans, unfastening them and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of both his jeans and boxers.
“Oh, erm, right.” Harry swallowed thickly. Draco inched the jeans lower and slid to his knees. When they were pooled at his ankles and Harry’s cock was exposed, Draco leaned back on his heels to appreciate it. The shaft was thick, the skin velvety and veined leading to the flushed, weeping head. “Wait, is this part of it?”
“Just start talking, Potter,” Draco commanded from his position on his knees. Harry watched raptly as Draco slicked his palm with spit and grasped the shaft before stroking him once, torturously slow.
“Shit, ok, um...I like Sean because he’s got brown hair,” Harry stammered. Draco’s slicked fist slid up, over the head and back down. On the next pass, he flexed his wrist, his grip twisting over Harry’s cock and making his breath hiss out of him.
“You like brown hair, do you?” Malfoy said snarkily with an elaborate roll of his eyes. “I don’t even know if I’m going to count that one. Try again.”
Harry wracked his brain for something about Sean that he truly loved, something that he couldn’t find with anyone else. But then Malfoy’s head tipped forward and he felt the hot gust of breath across the spit-slicked skin of his cock. Draco’s tongue flicked over the slit, lapping up a drop of precum before circling around the engorged head.
“I like Sean because he’s funny,” Harry gasped. Draco had closed his lips around the head, slipping them over the sensitive ridge and onto the shaft. The confines of his mouth were impossibly hot and wet, his tongue bold in its swiping and swirling. Draco hummed around him, urging him on. Harry panted and his head dropped back against the door with a dull thump.
“That feels so good,” he sighed as Draco slid down, his lips inching toward the base before he retreated. Harry felt the cool air kiss his prick as Draco released it.
“You’re at two, Potty,” he reminded, looking up through blonde lashes. Harry thought his mouth, puffy and shining with his own saliva, looked perfect this way. He’d been fantasizing about a scenario just like this one since the clandestine kiss they’d shared on New Year’s. Longer than that, if he was being completely honest.
“This is honestly very difficult,” Harry rasped. He tried to focus even as his breath gushed out of him, the pad of Malfoy’s thumb sliding firmly over the veined ridge on the underside of his cockhead. “Sean’s a good cook.”
Draco rewarded him by taking all of him into his mouth again. Harry’s eyes rolled back as the tip of his cock bumped against the back of Draco’s throat, through the ring of muscle there. Draco made a little noise of satisfaction and the vibrations were telegraphed through Harry’s prick. He felt Draco’s fingers tighten against the cheeks of his arse before the blonde pulled off, gasping for breath, a trail of saliva glistening.
He smiled up at the look of dopy adoration on Harry’s face and went back for more, swallowing Harry down and hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed. The rhythm and suction of his mouth was exquisite, making Harry’s toes curl in his shoes. Draco pushed his mouth down again, his nose pressed as close to Harry’s pubic bone as he could get. The Slytherin gagged a little and his throat constricted in a ripple around Harry. The Gryffindor moaned, fisting a handful of Draco’s hair and thrusting deeper into his eager mouth.
Draco grinned around a mouthful of cock and found himself unable to withhold the moan of arousal that Harry’s dominant gesture elicited. He loved the idea of Harry losing control, taking what he wanted from him, of being rough. If all went according to plan- and he was reasonably confident of that at this point- Draco would gladly allow Harry to fuck his mouth on a regular basis.
Still, he needed air. He eased off a bit to focus on the top half of Harry’s prick as he pulled air into his burning lungs. His free hand released Harry’s arse cheek and crept forward to cradle his bollocks, massaging them with nimble and practiced fingers.
“Keep going, Potter,” he said, freeing his mouth with a wet smack. His teeth grazed Harry’s hipbone and the Gryffindor grunted, fingers flexing where he gripped the hair at the back of Draco’s head. “Honestly, can’t you multitask?”
“Shut up,” Harry laughed hoarsely, guiding Draco’s mouth back to his cock. He allowed it, smirking as his lips enclosed Harry once more. “Fuuuuck. Um...I like Sean because...he does my laundry?” Harry couldn’t summon the energy to be embarrassed that his voice had cracked. His cock was buried in the throat of the most delectable Slytherin he’d ever known. Concern for his countenance was the farthest thing from his mind.
“Well in that case, you’d better keep him,” Draco snipped from below him, abandoning his task yet again. “After all, I’m not a house elf.”
Harry fought to keep the smile of his face, glaring down at Draco, who appeared delightfully unconcerned. His steely eyes glinted mischievously. Harry’s slick, reddened cock stood rigid, pointing accusingly at the very man who was tormenting him.
“This is the most infuriating blowjob I’ve ever received,” Harry observed huffily.
“Shall I stop?” The question was coupled with the delicate arch of a perfect blonde brow, the smug curve at the corner of his pink, abused mouth.
“No!” Harry rocked his hips forward, butting the tip of his cock against Malfoy’s lower lip, pulling it down to reveal the tender pink flesh inside. He groaned softly at the site of the Slytherin’s lips parting ever so slowly, his tongue sliding out to lap at his slit. “Yes, god yes. Like that. Please.”
“You’re barely at four,” Draco reminded him huskily, taking him in his hands and sliding his tongue over and around him again. Harry watched as Draco tipped forward on his knees, carefully holding Harry’s cock out of the way so his hot tongue could lap at the skin of Harry’s balls.
“Bloody hell,” Harry moaned as the suction of Draco’s mouth pulled one fully inside. He felt Draco’s cheeks close around it, tongue lavishing it with the perfect pressure. Malfoy’s eyes had closed and he was seemingly enjoying his task. One hand worked slowly over Harry’s shaft as he gently released one bollock and moved to the other. His teeth grazed the sensitive, bunching skin just a little and a shiver shot up Harry’s spine. One silver eye opened, fixing on his, imploring him wordlessly.
“I like Sean because...fuck, I don’t know…” Harry panted, smoothing the fine blonde hair back from Draco’s perfect face, twining his fingers in it. “He lets me fuck him,” he said at last, vaguely ashamed that he’d apparently run out of nice things to say about his supposed partner of several months.
“Well I’d let you do that,” Draco promised silkily before licking a stripe back up Harry’s prick and sliding his mouth over him. Harry pushed forward with a grunt, eager to watch Draco take all of him again, or at least try.
“Shit, Malfoy,” he hissed when he’d bottomed out in Draco’s mouth. He couldn’t stop his hips from snapping back and forth and Draco didn’t seem inclined to stop him. The blonde’s mouth was so hot and wet and willing and the little mewls of appreciation he was making were too much for Harry. He established a rhythm, quick and demanding, his cock slipping in and out of that perfect mouth with the most debaucherous slurping sounds.
Saliva pooled in the corners of Draco’s mouth, dribbling out with each of Harry’s thrusts. He breathed through his nose when he could, keeping his throat open and relaxed, and used the fingers of his right hand to collect the drool. Harry’s eyes were clamped shut and he was moaning steadily so he did not notice Draco’s hand moving. He gasped when he felt the fingers of that same hand travel to the furrow between his cheeks, smearing copious amounts of saliva over his arsehole.
Draco didn’t tarry. He circled his fingers frankly around Harry’s hole, coating it liberally in his spit, not bothering to tease more than was necessary. He looked up at Harry as best he could as he sunk down onto his cock farther still. He felt a heavy pulse of arousal in his belly and a twitch of his painfully restrained cock as Harry’s eyes locked onto his, narrow rings of viridian around the abyss of each pupil. When he breached Harry’s entrance, sinking down to the second knuckle, the feral groan of pleasure from Harry was enough to dispel any worry about his own need for oxygen.
“Christ, Draco,” he moaned, fisting his hands in that icy pale hair again. Draco could feel Harry’s arse flexing around him as he worked his finger upward, sighing happily as he touched upon his target, a spot of flesh that stiffened and pulsed beneath his fingertip. Harry keened as Draco sucked him vigorously, the pad of his finger stroking and prodding his prostate in tandem with each pass of his mouth.
He brought Harry right to the edge, a melange of moans and sighs and whispered expletives spilling out of him as he pistoned into Draco’s mouth. He could feel the Gryffindor’s cock jump against his tongue when he slid a second finger through the tight ring of muscle to join the first, pressing hard into the bundle of nerves and crooking forward.
“Draco,” he breathed, his tone so raw and reverent that Draco didn’t mind the ache of his jaw quite so much. “I’m so close..” Draco released him but didn’t stop the thrust of his fingers.
“You haven’t gotten anywhere close to ten,” he taunted before gliding his lips over Harry again.
“You think I’d be doing this with you if I gave half a fuck about Sean?” Harry growled, cradling the back of Draco’s head. Draco knew he was not mistaking the gentle, tender strokes of Harry’s fingers on the back of his neck. The sensation gave him chills. “You were the one playing it cool. I didn’t think you wanted me so I backed off. We should’ve been doing this months ago…”
That was what Draco had come here for, really. The admission that Harry wanted this, wanted him. Emerald eyes burned into his as Draco’s tongue pressed into the vein on the underside of Harry’s cock. Harry’s jaw hung slightly open, like he’d never seen anything more exquisite. He probably hadn’t, since all of Draco’s clothes were still on. Draco took a deep breath and deepthroated Harry one last time, pushing himself farther until his mouth was impaled on Harry’s cock. He bobbed fast, never breaking the seal of his lips, and rubbed small, insistent circles over Harry’s prostate.
There was no warning besides the twitch of Harry’s prick against his tongue. He stiffened, holding Draco’s head still as he bucked into him roughly. Suddenly his throat was flooded with the hot gush of Harry’s come, salty and a little bitter, as he roared through his orgasm. Draco swallowed eagerly, pumping the last drops with his fist. He could feel the thunder of Harry’s pulse against his fingertips and against his lips. There was a faint ringing in his ears but he ignored it, listening instead as Harry uttered his name in a wrecked moan.
After a moment Harry stilled completely, falling back against the door and pulling Draco’s mouth off of him. The Slytherin gasped, gulping down air, his throat raw. He grinned triumphantly even as he panted and Harry pulled him to his feet.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Harry said breathlessly. Draco didn’t even have a moment to object before Harry was pushing him into the wall, invading his mouth. He could taste himself on the other man’s tongue and when he sucked his bottom lip, nipping at it.
“I think the phrase you were looking for was ‘thank you’, Potter. Honestly, you’re so uncivilized,” Draco scoffed when they broke apart. He knew his mussed hair and besotted smile were likely ruining the effect but he didn’t care.
“You’ve no idea,” Harry muttered lowly, nuzzling his neck. “Let’s go back to mine.”
“But what about your boyfriend ? Sean, was it?” Draco goaded. His eyes flashed teasingly at Harry, who shook his head with a wry smile on his face. Harry threaded their fingers together, kissing Draco with an intensity he would not have expected from a man who’d only just come moments ago.
“Sean who?” Harry asked with expertly feigned ignorance when he’d pulled away. No wonder he’d escaped punishment so often, the git.
“Exactly,” Draco purred. “Now put your cock away and take me home already. I’ve been waiting months.”
Harry did as he was told, beaming madly as he fastened his trousers, took Draco’s hand and pulled them through Pansy’s apartment. The assembled group positively erupted into applause when they reached the living room. Draco tucked his head demurely as Harry pulled him toward the floo, though he spotted Ron giving him a very raucous thumbs up from his place next to Hermione on the sofa.
“‘Bout fucking time!” Seamus bellowed, clapping Harry on the shoulder as they slipped past.
“Precisely. Don’t want to be late!” Harry laughed, whether at his own joke or the answering catcalls Draco wasn’t sure.
He felt Harry’s hand tighten around his and then he was being pulled against him. Pansy gave a wolf whistle behind them. Draco thought it was because Potter had grabbed his arse but he couldn’t be sure because only a second later, they disappeared through a whirl of green flame. They didn't need an audience for what came next.