Draco was feeling tired and angry. He'd finally gotten away from that dreadful museum opening, but he'd been stuck there far too long, and it had absolutely ruined his mood for the day. He hated going to political meetings, balls, openings, or public gatherings of any kind. All he'd ever wanted was to be known and adored, but now that he was finally grown and able to be recognized, he hated it, because it was nothing like he'd imagined.
Nobody liked Draco Malfoy. They pretended to because they had to, but it was nothing more than a toleration of his last name. The Malfoy family was still rich, and had their hands in all the most important pies. People smiled when they saw Draco because he was the last in a long line of profitable donations. Just that day, his presence had been requested at the opening of a new Wizarding History Museum exhibit, solely because his father had once donated funds to the organization. And Draco could not say no to attending, because it was his job to keep the image alive.
The Malfoy image had suffered in the Second War of Darkness, but Draco had taken the necessary strides to rebuild. He was still taking those strides, and his parents would be furious with him if he did not live up to expectations. Draco's mother, in particular, was eager to regain favor amongst the Wizarding people, and it was Draco's job to make sure that happened as quickly as possible. And so Draco went to gatherings and donated money and put a fake smile on his face, when all he wanted now was to go home and be left alone. Status was not as pleasant as he had once dreamed it would be. There was just so much to do, and not nearly enough friends to do those things with.
But Draco didn't like to dwell on the idea of friendship. As a child, he'd assumed that obedience and power was equivalent to friendship. He thought differently now, but wouldn't allow himself to wallow in self-pity over it. Why should he care that his so-called friends paid respect to him just for his name? Draco Malfoy didn't need friends; he didn't want them. He wanted to be left alone.
Green flames burst into life in a large fireplace, and Draco stepped carefully out of them, straightening his robes and brushing remnants of Floo Powder off of them. As the flames extinguished, the sitting room faded into darkness, but Draco did not bother to cast a light into the home. He slipped forward and sat down heavily in his favorite chair. He was tired and angry; a moment's rest would soothe him. He sighed in relief, happy to be alone for the moment.
And then a hand touched Draco's shoulder. Draco cursed and jumped in his seat, turning his head to see who was behind him. "Who's there?" he demanded. "Show yourself." There shouldn't have been anyone else in the house. Draco suddenly remembered a news story he'd read a while back, about a former Death Eater who'd been killed in his home by a vengeful vigilante. He shivered and self-consciously placed a hand over his left forearm. The mark had faded significantly since the end of the war, but it was still visible to those who knew what to look for.
A quiet voice shushed him, and Draco felt an electric jolt to his heart as a pair of lips touched his face. The kiss landed just short of Draco's mouth, slip-sliding down his cheek. "What--?" Draco tried to speak, but the mysterious stranger let out a burst of husky laughter and kissed Draco again, meeting his lips this time. Draco was stunned; he thought about reaching for his wand, but he had to confess to himself that whoever this person was, they were a hell of a kisser. Draco felt sweat break out on his forehead as a wave of warmth crested over his body. He hadn't been kissed like this in ages.
The stranger was most definitely a male; his scent was unfamiliar but decidedly unfeminine, and his kisses were rough as his stubble scratched Draco's jaw. Draco wasn't too surprised by this, having kissed a bloke or two throughout his years at Hogwarts. Certainly it wasn't quite as shocking as having a stranger in your lap in the first place.
Cold air struck Draco's face as his stranger moved away from him. "Who are you? Blaise, is that you?" He hadn't seen Blaise in months, since some Ministry ball that Draco couldn't quite remember. It seemed like Blaise's style, showing up in the dark to claim what he wanted.
The stranger laughed. "Yeah, right, Draco," he drawled, in a voice that was both new and familiar. Draco felt a twitching in the back of his mind, that itch you feel when you know something but the words won't come to you. He knew this man somehow, but he couldn't find the identity for the life of him. "Ignorance doesn't become you."
"Well, excuse me if I'd like to know who's broken into my home in the middle of the night," Draco sneered. "I don't often come home to unexpected visitors, you see." He wanted to say more, some sort of rant about his unwillingness to be assaulted, probably peppered with threats of hexes or calls to the authorities. But Draco couldn't bring himself to say anything when the stranger knelt down between his knees and tore his robes open. All he could do was squeak embarrassingly with shock.
"Someone's shy this evening," the stranger said, and Draco could hear the smirk in his voice. "Had a hard day, love? Let me make it better for you." Rough hands slipped up Draco's thighs and touched his cock.
"Please, stop that," Draco said in a strangled voice, his face heating up as he felt his body respond to the stranger's ministrations. "At least, at least tell me who you are." He gasped as a very wet tongue touched his skin.
"Mrmf," said the stranger, grunting as he gently licked Draco's shaft.
Draco gasped and lifted his hips, involuntarily pushing himself deeper down the stranger's throat. He could feel the blood rushing down to his cock, stiff and eager for more of the mystery man's ministrations. "This, this is horribly inappropriate," he said, between desperate gasps for air.
The stranger removed his mouth from Draco's cock with a loud smacking sound. The swollen appendage swayed slightly in the air, and Draco felt a cold emptiness without the feel of a tongue wrapped around his length. "Why are you being so strange tonight?" the stranger asked, lifting his head. And though they were cast in evening shadows, Draco suddenly knew the man kneeling before him, and the revelation terrified him.
It was like a blow to the head, and Draco cried out in horror, scrambling upright in his seat. "Potter?" he cried, his voice coming out like a squeak. "What in the hell?"
Harry Potter grinned up at him. "I think we've moved a long way past 'Potter' at this point, haven't we?" He leaned in and licked Draco's shaft, tantalizingly, making Draco whine in the back of his throat.
Fuck, he wanted it so badly. Potter was surprisingly brilliant at sucking cock. If Draco had known this earlier, he might not have carried on their little rivalry for as long as he had. But as things stood, it was shockingly odd to find the hero of the Wizarding world with a former Death Eater's cock in his hand. "What the fuck," Draco said, his mind spinning. He could hardly think at all with his sudden desperate urge for Potter to finish what he had started.
"You seem distracted," said Potter, with a wicked grin. "Let me help you with that." And he proceeded to start sucking Draco's cock in earnest.
Draco should probably have stopped him. It was just so weird, for Harry Potter of all people to be doing this. Draco tried to remember when he'd even seen Potter last, tried to think of something that could have possibly led to such an unexpected encounter. But it was impossible to think clearly about anything, when Potter was making him feel so fucking good.
Draco should probably have stopped him, but Potter slurped and suckled on Draco's cock like an expert, sending Draco's mind spinning off into wordless, thoughtless pleasure. Draco bucked his hips and grabbed at Potter's hair, pulling on the thick black strands as he made little mewling sounds of approval in his throat. How, how could any rational human being not degenerate into a useless mass under such a situation? Draco couldn't have stopped him if he tried. And he certainly didn't want to try.
Potter ran his tongue up the underside of Draco's shaft and increased the pressure and speed of his ministrations, and soon Draco felt the pleasure explode deep within him. White stars burst before his eyes as he released himself into Potter's eager little mouth. As he came down from the high, the reality of things set back in, and Draco found himself faced with terror once again. "Merlin," he said, in awe. "What's brought this on, Potter?"
Potter sat back and wiped a hand over his lips, which made Draco suddenly want to kiss him. But he didn't, merely sitting up in wonder as Potter proceeded to glare furiously at him. "Okay, it was funny at first, but you're starting to piss me off," he said. "What's with the blushing virgin act? I've been sucking you off for ages now."
He might have said more, but Draco was too busy trying to stop his head from exploding to listen to it. "What the hell are you on about?" he demanded, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before leaping out of his seat. "Is this a game to you, Potter? Some sort of Auror sting?" He looked wildly about the room. "Am I being recorded?"
Now Potter looked genuinely confused, as he rose to stand beside Draco. Draco could still feel the distant echo of pleasure in his prick, which was softening quickly. He felt tired, like he could just collapse and go to sleep right then and there. But things are getting stranger by the moment. "Do you really not know?" Potter asked. He, too, took a moment to look around the room, and then he buried his face in his hands. "Shit, not again."
"Not again?" Draco demanded. "Do you regularly find yourself in your former enemies' homes, then? Are you often caught surprised with a dick in your mouth? Please, tell me, Potter. It would be so entertaining to hear how the Golden Boy's become a raving madman."
"All right, Draco," Potter said sternly. "Give me a minute to think, will you?" He ruffled his hair nervously and let out a heaving sigh. "I need to go."
"So we're not going to talk about this," Draco said, in disbelief. "You're just going to leave, then."
"Would you like me to Obliviate you?" Potter asked. He had the audacity to smirk. "Or are you quite keen on having that memory in your head?"
"Potter, I--." Draco didn't know what to say. He felt equal parts infuriated and embarrassed. He did want the memory, and it killed him to admit it. But it had felt so fucking good, and how dare Potter give him such a thing and then just leave? "I demand to know what is going on here."
"Trust me, you wouldn't believe it if I told you," Potter replied. "Just . . . just call it a mistake, yeah? And, er, it might be prudent not to mention this event when you see me again." He hesitated. "If you see me."
"Checking yourself into St. Mungo's, are you, then?" Draco sneered.
Potter smiled at him, a genuine, friendly expression that made Draco's stomach twist. Potter had never looked at him like that before; it was actually rather nice. Draco shook his head to clear the thought. "Also, you'll want to have your fireplace looked at," Potter told him, as he stuck his hand in Draco's Floo pot. "Have it disconnected and then reconnected." He tossed a handful of powder into the grate, and the flames turned green. "Have a nice evening," Potter said with a grin. He stepped into the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor!" he cried out, and vanished.
But they were already in Malfoy Manor; Draco's forehead crinkled as he felt yet another wave of confusion burst over him. He stepped up to the fire and stared into it for a while. Potter was clearly gone, but to where? Draco had the distinct feeling that he'd just been a part of something big and mysterious. He was far too tired to work it out, however. He was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep.
But first, he would take a long, cold shower, and try to forget the feeling of Potter's tongue on his cock. Draco wasn't sure it was going to happen. Perhaps he should have asked for an Obliviate, after all. Draco's face flushed as he silently acknowledged his reluctance to forget. It had just felt so fucking good.
Harry went upstairs and into the bedroom, where his Draco was undressing. "It's happened again," Harry said.
Draco frowned at him. "You know I hate when you do that."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Hello, Draco. The alternate universe Floo portal happened again."
"Again?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "I thought they'd fixed that damn thing."
"They still don't know who's doing it," Harry replied with a sigh. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Ever since we discovered inter-dimensional magic, troublemakers have been screwing with portals left and right. It's an ongoing investigation."
"Well, where did you end up this time?" Draco asked. "Not in a Muggle home, hopefully."
"Yes, heaven forbid I should have to look at a Muggle," Harry said sarcastically.
"You know what I meant." Draco sat beside Harry and idly brushed some Floo remnants off Harry's shoulder. "So where did you go?"
The memory brought a grin to Harry's face. "I went here, actually."
"An alternate Manor? Well, that must have been interesting." Draco grinned back. "I'll have you know I do consider it cheating if you slept with an alternate Draco, darling."
"I didn't know he wasn't you," Harry said, and Draco gave him a look. Harry laughed. "He was shocked out of his mind. Apparently we haven't gotten over our old school rivalry over there."
"How childish," Draco replied. "I'm sure your stellar abilities had him seeing the light."
"We can only hope," Harry said. He traced a line down Draco's neck. "It'd be a real shame if they never got to experience this." He gave his lover a steamy kiss.
"Got to get all that alt-Draco off of you," Draco murmured, slipping his hands under Harry's robes. "I'm the only Draco you'll ever need."
"You're too much for anyone," Harry replied with a smirk. "I need less Draco, not more."
"Shut up, Harry," Draco said.
"Hello, Malfoy," Harry said stiffly, sticking his hand out for Draco to shake. The Weasley girl had drifted elsewhere.
"Hello, Potter," Draco replied, clearing his throat. He felt an odd tingle when their hands touched. "Keeping yourself sane, I hope?" He raised an eyebrow.
Potter seemed not to understand the reference. "Er, as sane as you are, hopefully," he replied.
"Right," said Draco. He leaned in, his heart racing at the sudden impulse. "Look, I still don't understand what happened that night, Potter, but." He coughed delicately. "If you wanted to, say . . . make that mistake again. I wouldn't say no."
Potter gave him the oddest look Draco had ever seen. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he said.
"You know what I'm fucking talking about," Draco hissed, gripping Potter's hand more tightly. "Last week, my sitting room?" Potter still looked dumbfounded. "The blowjob?"
Potter jerked away from him. "You disgust me, Malfoy," he said. "I haven't been to your house since your family dragged me there during the war. You remember, when you were a Death Eater?" He looked furious. "And here I thought you'd grown up to be a little more civil. Instead you're spreading disgusting lies about us."
"But," Draco said, feeling confused again.
And suddenly Potter was smirking at him. "Keep your fantasies to yourself, Draco." He moved away into the crowd.
"Fine, then," Draco called out angrily. Obviously Potter wanted to pretend it had never happened. Well, that was just fine with Draco. Just fucking fine.
He'd see how Potter liked it when a mysterious stranger broke into his house and starting sucking on his cock out of nowhere. See if he could just pretend it had never happened. Draco turned and stormed out of the hall, already planning how he was going to get into Grimmauld Place without being noticed.