Draco wasn’t sure how he came to be in the Forbidden Forest at three in the morning, half-naked, bound, gagged, and shivering against a tree, but like his grandmother used to say, things happen and all you can do is to stay calm until you can buy your way out of it. So of course Draco did just that.
Okay, he was attempting to do just that. It was a little difficult to remain nonchalant when there was a giant Acromantula staring down at him, its extraordinarily sharp teeth looking especially prominent through the hair and appendages.
This, Draco thought through his panic, was all Theodore fucking Nott’s fault. He would be more furious if the panic hadn’t taken so completely over his body. Oh Merlin’s balls, he was only eighteen, he was way too young and too gorgeous to die just yet! He had always imagined his death to be more dignified, like being pierced by an arrow during battle as he struck down the enemies, or falling down onto a bed of roses glittering like a prince. Not once had the idea of being chewed to death crossed his mind, and now, the reality of it seemed much more terrifying than anything he could ever have conjured up. His urge to scream like a shrieking baby was halted by the fact that he his mouth was stuffed of some poncy handkerchief Nott owned. Draco wasn’t sure if he’d rather die or have someone find him screaming his voice off like a little girl. Although at the moment, the latter option seemed much more appealing.
The Acromantula was getting closer. Draco could feel its breath as it stirred his damp hair, smelling like old eggs and impending death. This wasn’t a joke, Nott was serious about killing him.Oh gods, he was going to die alone in a forest and there would be no remains left to be found. He would disappear from the world, and no one would be the wiser as to why, and unfortunately, no one would probably care.
No no no go away, Draco chanted in his head, eyes shut tight. The rough hair from the creature’s body brushed against him, signalling his death, he was going to die–
The silence that followed was accompanied by the whistling wind and the tension emanating off of Draco. There was no pain, no head or limb bitten off, no horrifying screams coming from his mouth.
Confused, Draco opened one eye slowly and peeked out to see if the universe had taken pity on him and stopped time until he figured out how to get out of his predicament unscathed.
What he saw was the Acromantula right in front of him, its entire body frozen, rigid all the way down to the coarse black hair. The only things moving were its eight eyes, blinking at him as if saying You’re not getting away just yet, prey.
But it wasn’t the horrifying sight of the spider that got him so completely speechless. It was Harry Potter, standing on top of the creature and holding a wand in his right hand, looking rumbled and a little lost in his pajamas decorated with broomsticks.
Fucking hell, Draco thought as Potter slid down the Acromantula and stood right in front of him.
“Was so not expecting to find you like this, Malfoy,” Potter said casually, as if he hadn’t just saved Draco from yet another fatal situation.
When Potter finished untying him from the tree and taking the gag out of his mouth, Draco did the only thing his fear-addled mind could think of and kissed Potter squarely on the mouth.
Potter’s surprised shout was muffled by Draco’s mouth moving insistently against it. With the determination of a man who’d narrowly escaped death, Draco pushed Potter to the crumbling leaves on the ground and climbed on top of him, single-mindedly trying to suck the air out of Potter’s lungs.
“What – the fuck – mmhhmm are you doing?” Potter gasped out between kisses, his hands mysteriously running up and down Draco’s bare back instead of pushing him away. Draco couldn’t blame him for it; very rare was it that someone was able to resist his gloriously nude body (or semi-nude, as the case may be).
“Shut up,” Draco panted, sticking his hands underneath Potter’s hideous top to find warm skin. He had never thought that Potter could have such smooth skin. He had imagined him covered in hair and boils, but consider the circumstances, he couldn’t really say he was upset about it. “I almost died a virgin, Potter, and that can’t happen. Again.”
Potter didn’t seem convinced by his pristine reasoning, but when it came to Potter, Draco was never really sure of his capability to engage in logical reasoning at the best of time. Potter didn’t seem very disagreeable, though, when Draco slid his hands from his surprisingly well-defined chest to slip them under Potter’s pants.
“Oh my god, Malfoy!” Potter garbled, his hips jerking up into Draco’s hands. Draco pulled down the man’s bottoms and was met with the most unexpected sight.
“Potter, congratulations, you actually have something to be proud of,” Draco drawled, but the effect was rather dampened by the saliva that suddenly filled his mouth. Potter's cock was standing straight, red and leaking with pre-come, seeming to be begging for Draco’s touch. He couldn’t wait any longer. With less finesse than he’d have liked, Draco pulled down his own silk pants and quickly lined his prick up against Potter's. When his hand closed around their erections, Draco’s mind almost imploded at the pleasure that rushed through his body like fireworks. From the sounds Potter was making, Draco suspected the feeling was mutual.
They moved together like two teenagers would, with no patience or skill. Potter put one hand around Draco’s and tightened his grip as he pushed into the makeshift channel. Draco closed his eyes and followed Potter’s motion, his body wound tight with pleasure. At one point he felt Potter’s touch on his arse, but he was too far gone to slap it away. Instead, he arched into Potter’s caress, liking the heat that seemed to burn a mark into his fine backside. Draco had to admit, Potter had really nice hands, despite the highly unflattering calluses. Potter had really nice lips, too; they were really red, and full, and on any given day Draco would have wondered if Potter had gotten stung by a bee as a young boy and had to live with the permanent reminder, but today wasn’t just any day. Today, he almost died, and Potter had proven himself to be the ever reliable savior of all those in needs. And sure, Draco would never, ever be caught saying it out loud, but he might just be a little bit fonder of Potter for it.
“Malfoy, close,” Potter moaned, jerking even more erratically. His stomach flexed, and even in the darkness, Draco could see the tension in his body, see the overwhelming feelings displayed in his body language, and the sight of Potter lost in his own carnal pleasure sent Draco over the edge. With a shout he climaxed, shooting his load all over himself and Potter. Draco tightened his hand around their cocks and squeezed, slipping a bit because of the come. When his fingers brushed over Potter’s slit, the man orgasmed with a cry so disturbingly sexy that it stunned Draco for a short, but very real, second.
When Draco slowly returned from his high and his brain began to function again, Draco became very aware of what had just occurred.
He had just thought of Potter as sexy. The idea was so terrifying that it sent Draco shooting to his feet and almost tripping over his half pulled up pants.
When he was decent – or as decent as a man dressed in his underwear, coated with come and looking as if he had just engaged in the most fantastic shag of his life could be – Draco turned to Potter, still lying on the ground and looking way too pleased with himself for Draco’s liking.
“This,” he said in a half-hearted snarl (he had just orgasmed, after all), “never happened.”
And with that said, he fled.
The darkness found Draco with both his hands handcuffed to a rickety old bed in the Shrieking Shack, something that Draco found highly irritating. It was one thing to have been drugged and set out as food for arachnids in the Forbidden Forest, but it was another thing to confront his kidnapper, get Stupefied, and then abducted and locked in the creepiest place (beside Voldemort's lair) the next night.
This, Draco thought while trying not to bang his head against the wall in fear that the entire house would crumble on top of him, couldn’t get any worse.
As if the universe was listening to his thoughts and deciding that Draco was entirely wrong about his situation, a ghost appeared.
If later anyone talked about the terrified, high-pitched scream that shook the abandoned Shack and disturbed the sleeping children in the village, Draco would feign ignorance, and perhapsObliviate them a little bit.
“Professor Lupin!” Draco gasped out loud, wondering if his heart was trying to climb its way out of his throat.
Remus Lupin was staring at him through limpid eyes, dressed in what appeared to Draco an old rag decorated with a huge blood stain right in the middle of his chest. Oh right, one mustn’t forget that the man was also translucent.
Draco had never been afraid of ghosts, having grown up with a lot of them, but Lupin was not just any ghost. He was the one ghost (well, one of many) Draco had openly poked fun at when the man was still alive, not to mention the man had been killed by a close family friend. Merlin, was Lupin here to take revenge? Just because Draco used to complain about his dangerous sickness and dreadful sense of style did not mean he should be haunted like this!
“Hello, Draco,” Lupin said quietly, drifting closer. Draco was not sure if he was more disturbed by the fact that he could see through the man or by the dripping blood that splattered into nothingness as Lupin breezed toward him.
“Professor, whatever I said about your homosexual love for a mad convict, I did not mean it!” Draco blurted out, trying to scoot back as far from the approaching ghost as he could without ripping his handcuffed arms off their sockets. Lupin, Draco had to admit, made quite a fearsome ghost.
Lupin blinked at him. “I didn’t realize it was you who started that rumor, but I must confess that you were not wrong on that account.”
Now it was Draco’s turn to stare at him. Lupin continued to speak blithely, “I had wished that Tonks had believed the rumor before she forcefully engaged me in sex with her vagina. It was a terrible ordeal, I must tell you.”
And then Lupin proceeded to tell him about it. Draco turned green at Lupin’s detailed description of heterosexual sex, and struggled harder against his bond. Oh gods, whatever he’d done, he did not deserve this. No one deserved this!
“– but of course by that point she was pregnant with my child, and I couldn’t just abandon her or Molly Weasley would have skinned me alive. We got married, and she made me sign a contract that required my sexual services at least five times a week. I might have been a werewolf, my dear, but I did not have the stamina of one. The day Dolodov, the moron, managed to trip over his own shoes and accidentally knocked a sword into my chest was possibly one of the best days of my life. Too bad he killed off Tonks, too, because now her ghost is on a mission to find me.” Lupin shook his head sadly.
Draco would’ve been more sympathetic if he hadn’t just heard what his cousin and his professor got up to during their living days. Auntie Andromeda would be horrified to know what Draco knew, Draco was sure of it. Although, Draco did wonder… how could she not know about the dungeon Tonks had fashioned while they were sharing a home?
“Professor, you’re a… um, terrific storyteller, but if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?” Torturing me?
Lupin’s stare was really unnerving, mostly because Draco could see right through it, but also because it was completely devoid of emotions. “Why, Draco,” Lupin said as if surprised Draco didn’t know the answer already, “I was told that you have been trying to seduce Harry for your own perverse amusement, so I’m here to haunt you and make sure that you don’t come near him.”
Draco knew it was un-Malfoy-like, but he couldn’t help it. He gaped. “Who said that! I did not seduce him! Why would I seduce Potter when he is so clearly beneath me? If anything, he should be the one seducing me!”
Sad about that, sweetheart? For some reason, Potter’s voice popped into his head, sounding way too smug, and then Draco couldn’t help but think about him, and his crooked half-smile, which was endearing if he was into asymmetrical faces. But Draco was not into imperfection, even if that imperfection secretly made him go weak in the knees at times.
“Whatever it is, I must inform you that as someone who once had protective and not at all sexual feelings for Harry, it is my duty to make sure no one plays with him and gets away with it,” Lupin said apologetically and opened his mouth wide.
Draco felt a prickly chill crawling up his spine as Lupin began to twist and twirl into some sort of dark form… something that resembled his childhood fear, a lot. The ghost expanded and shifted, its shoulders rising like smokes. There was no doubt about it, Lupin was turning into a hippogriff, flapping about with freakishly large wings and lunging full throttle at him.
The scream that tore across the Shack and beyond could not be described as anything other than petrified. And manly. Draco knew his time had come. No one got attacked by a hippogriff twice and survived, he was convinced of it, inconveniently forgetting in his moment of terror that the creature in front of him was not solid and therefore any damage done was to be minimal, if at all.
As it was, Draco continued to wail wildly, hoping against hope that his death would be a quick one.
Draco could not fucking believe this. The hippogriff exploded into a dancing frog, looking confused for a second before it burst into smoke.
When the air cleared, Draco had to contain himself from screaming again.
“I saw some dead animals on my way here. I think your shrieking killed them,” Potter said, stuffing his wand into his back pocket and scratching his head in a not at all adorable way. No no no stop thinking about Potter like that!
“What are you doing here?” Draco managed to get out. “Was that a Boggart?”
“Yeah,” Potter answered. “I would’ve thought it was obvious. The hippogriff looked like a badly CG version of an awesome mythical creature. Were you not paying attention in Care of Magical Creatures?”
“I was a little busy being brutally attacked at the time,” Draco gritted out. He hated Potter and his condescending tone, and his stupid soft hair, and his nicely tanned skin, and his large, warm hands. Yes, he absolutely hated Potter. “Are you going to let me out of these stupid handcuffs or not?”
Potter didn’t seem to hear him. In fact, he was staring at Draco with a rather odd expression on his face. Draco recognized that expression. It was the one Pansy wore when she tried to undress him after their awful date to the Yule Ball in fourth year. It was the one Blaise had on when he attempted to climb into Draco’s bed during fifth year. It was the expression Theodore Nott displayed when Draco got out of the shower with nothing but his towel on. That face was the face of a man ready to pounce on his prey.
Draco was instantly aware of the situation he was in, cuffed to the bed, sprawled out like a Michelangelo’s masterpiece on a dusty bed which was possibly infested with bedbugs, but Draco wasn’t going to think about that when Potter was advancing on him. Suddenly he wished that the Hippogriff would come back. At least then, Draco would die with dignity instead of live with the knowledge that whatever Potter was going to do to him, he was going to like it a lot. He would resist, of course, but he was going to like it. Potter was infuriatingly irresistible like that, the little prick.
There’s nothing little about his prick, an evil voice said in his head smugly. Oh Merlin, he was going mad.
“What are you doing, Potter?” Draco asked, mentally slapping himself when his voice came out squeaky and not at all imperious like he’d anticipated.
“Saving your arse,” Potter said simply, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to Draco. “A thank you would be nice. Or, you know, something.”
The way Potter said something made the hairs on his skin rise. He felt like there was more to that something than he realized, but Draco didn’t have to wait long to find out what that was.
With deft fingers Potter made quick work of Draco’s trousers. In a few short seconds Draco’s pants were lying on the floor, and Potter’s tongue was inside his mouth.
“Mmmhhm!” Draco protested and kissed Potter back. Potter kissed him as if he couldn’t believe he was kissing Draco, desperate, hard, needy. Draco would’ve been more surprised at Potter’s reaction if he wasn’t so busy trying to wrap his legs around Potter’s hips to get some friction against his rapidly swelling cock.
“Get your hands,” Draco gasped when Potter pulled off his own shirt and unzipped his jeans, “on my cock!”
“Give me a minute,” Potter growled back, dropping his jeans to the floor and attempting to unbutton Draco’s shirt. When that didn’t work (“What the fuck is up with all these bloody buttons, Malfoy!”), Potter gave up and ripped it off him.
Draco was too horny to even care. All he wanted was Potter’s hands on his skin - yes like that - running over his chest, rubbing his nipples, pinching them. Draco almost shouted in surprise, his cock twitching violently when Potter’s tongue found one of his nipples.
“Been – thinking about this,” Potter managed around Draco’s nipple, lowering his hand until it found Draco’s cock and curled around it. “All day. You’re so fucking hot.”
“I know,” Draco replied breathlessly, unable to stop himself from moaning when Potter arched closer and pushed Draco’s legs up. “I am. Now shut up and do that oohhmygod again!"
Potter’s hand was slowly but firmly fisting Draco’s cock, keeping a steady rhythm as he pulled at Draco’s nipple with his teeth before running his tongue soothingly over it. Draco wasn’t sure what he should focus on, the burst of pleasure that shot through his body every time Potter’s thumb swiped over the tip of his cock, or the stimulation that set his nerves aflame as Potter demonstrated just how talented and dedicated his tongue was to his wonderfully abused nipples.
Draco tugged at his handcuffs, frustrated that he couldn’t do much in this position except to take whatever Potter dished out. It was both an uneasy and exciting thought.
“Take these off me, Potter,” Draco said breathlessly when Potter’s hands ran down to grab Draco’s arse. “I want to touch you.” Touch your cock.
Potter groaned at Draco’s words. Wordlessly he picked up his wand and muttered an unlocking charm. Once Draco was free, he immediately pulled Potter up for a kiss, threading his fingers through Potter’s wild hair. Who knew it was so soft?
Potter moaned into his mouth and whispered, “I want to suck your cock, Malfoy.”
Draco nearly came at those words. “Fuck,” he rasped, and pushed Potter’s head down in answer.
Potter practically slithered down Draco’s body, his movement smooth and easy. It amazed him that Potter could move so sensually, considering how most of the time, he lugged about with the grace of a one-year-old. And then it became difficult to think at all, because Potter dug his fingers into Draco’s hips and took Draco’s cock into his mouth with an eagerness that rivaled the attention he showered on Draco’s nipples earlier.
Draco had to use all his willpower not to come at the sight of his cock disappearing into Potter’s mouth and then emerging, glistening with saliva. Potter clearly had no idea what he was doing, if the way his face scrunched up and the way he kept pulling away too quickly was anything to go by, but Draco didn’t give a flying fuck. His cock was in Potter’s mouth. That thought alone was enough to bring Draco off.
And then, oh fuck fuck fuck, something insistent pressed against his crack. It took Draco a minute to figure out what it was, and when he did – Potter’s trying to put his finger in my arse – he shamelessly spread his legs and tipped his hips up invitingly. He would so deny this later if Potter brought it up, but at that moment, between the pressure of Potter’s tongue against his cock and the fingers that were rubbing at his anus teasingly, Potter could’ve fucked him and he would have taken it happily.
“Malfoy, fuck, you look –“ Draco never found out what he looked like – though it wasn’t hard to imagine; he had a mirror, after all – because Potter didn’t have enough patience to finish his sentence before he dove down and sucked hard at the tip of Draco’s cock. The pleasure shocked him to the core and Potter slyly took the moment to push a finger into his hole.
The sensation was odd, but not entirely unpleasant. Potter frowned and pulled off Draco’s cock – much to his displeasure – before taking his finger out and spitting on it. When his finger slid into Draco this time around, the journey was much smoother. Draco canted his hips up when Potter pulled out, forcing it back inside, and very nearly came on the spot. Potter touched … something inside him. It made sparks exploded behind his eyelids and his cock jump in excitement.
“Do… that again,” Draco breathed, feeling as if all the wind had been knocked out from his lungs. His heart was beating so fast he was certain he was going to have some sort of medical emergency before they were done.
“Do what?” Potter asked, spitting again onto his fingers and pushing another one inside. Draco arched and twisted desperately because Potter just brushed that spot again.
When Potter seemed to have gotten a good idea of where to rub his fingers inside Draco, he resumed his earlier task of sucking Draco’s brain out right through his cock. Between Potter’s wonderful fingers thrusting in and out of his arse and Potter’s hot mouth, Draco couldn’t hold off his orgasm any longer.
Without any warning except for a keening, loud cry, Draco arched off the bed and came as if he had never come before in his life, his arse clenching uncontrollably around Potter’s moving fingers. The sensation was nothing he had ever experienced before, and he loved it, loved the way that the pleasure he felt didn’t only arise from his cock, but also from that mysterious spot inside his arse. Who knew… who knew the human body was gifted with such an incredible source of bliss...
Draco fell back on the bed, sated and content, and watched as Potter spluttered and coughed furiously, wiping his mouth.
“Fuck, Malfoy, you could’ve warned a bloke you were gonna shoot,” Potter said, glaring at him.
Draco paid him no mind, his delight plummeting when he saw that Potter’s cock was limp.
“What the fuck, Potter?” Draco yelled, feeling both offended and embarrassed. “Did you find me so disgusting that you couldn’t get it up?”
Potter looked down at himself and turned bright red. “Er, Malfoy, look.” He pointed at a spot where he had been a while ago, and Draco saw a splatter of something that resembled semen.
When he turned back to Potter, he was scratching the back of his neck, wearing the most endearing half-embarrassed expression Draco had ever seen.
“I came around the time when you, um. Let me do that.” He wiggled his fingers. Knowing that Potter was so turned on by Draco that he couldn’t hold back made something inside Draco’s stomach flutter and dance annoyingly, and Draco couldn't help but want to kiss him.
“So,” Potter said slowly, grabbing his clothes from the floor and throwing Draco his. “How many more times do we have to shag before you agree to go on a date with me?”
Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly. “This is not funny, Potter,” Draco said angrily when blood decided to circulate his brain again. “I was almost killed. Twice. This whole –“ Draco waved his hand vaguely “–thing is just a way for me to appreciate how precious life is.”
Harry grabbed Draco’s motioning hand and held it tightly. “That’s a load of bull and you know it,” Potter said, eyes flashing. “You totally like me, I can tell.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,” Draco said, jerking his hand out of Potter’s grip and ignoring the way his heart was slamming against his chest at the contact. Quickly he pulled his clothes back on and got off the bed. “As far as I’m concerned, I hate you, and this never happened.”
When Draco made to walk out, Potter’s hand curled around his elbow, halting him in his step. When their eyes connected, all Draco saw was determination and fire. “This is not over. I’m not giving up until you admit it.”
Draco swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. “Then I suggest you get comfortable, because you’ll be waiting for a long time.”
As Draco walked away, he couldn’t help but fear that his resolve wasn’t going to be strong enough under Potter’s obvious will to... date him, apparently.
The thought was all at once horrifying and, strangely enough, thrilling.
Potter was kissing him.
Alright, so that was nothing new. But Potter kissing him right there in the Great Hall, in the middle of dinner, was.
He was not subtle about it, either. Right after Draco pushed through the double-doors, he was suddenly grabbed by the front of his robes and then the next thing he knew, there was a tongue in his mouth and someone’s hands were squeezing his arse.
The first thing Draco did, of course, was to kiss him back, out of pure reflex, obviously. There was no way he would ever kiss Potter… well, kiss him again.
So of course, once his brain caught up to his cock, Draco shoved Potter away as hard as he could, trying to glare at him through the adrenaline and undeniable interest stirring in his body.
Potter was smirking at him. Smirking. The expression was as horrifying as the very idea itself.
When he was able to turn away from Potter, he felt as if his stomach had plummeted into a bottomless pit. All eyes in the Great Hall were on him and Potter. He saw Granger and Weasley looking as if they’d just witnessed their very nightmare coming to life (something Draco suspected was not so far from the truth), and though that made him cackle wickedly inside, Theodore Nott’s face did not.
Nott looked as if he’d just swallowed a Muggle explosive and was now trying not to burst into flames. The glare he sent Draco was so violent and hateful that Draco knew he was going to suffer some serious injury before the night was over. Merlin, how many times would Potter have to come to his rescue before he was viciously murdered by the delusional and pathetic moron?
“Malfoy, say you’ll go out with me,” Potter said quietly, although in the dead silence of the Great Hall he might as well have screamed it out on the top of his lungs.
“No!” Draco replied automatically, turning red when it came out as a highly undignified squeak. Clearing his throat, he said again, “No.”
Potter sent him a warning look that Draco completely missed, as he was too appalled by what Potter had just done, and all for a bloody date. Who the hell did he think he was, a teenager? Oh, right. “Say it, Malfoy.”
“No,” Draco retorted stubbornly, annoyed at the commanding tone Potter was directing at him. He hadn’t been bossed around since he was nine, when his father told him to get out of his closet, and Draco had only complied then because he had been extremely grossed out by what he'd seen.
“Fine,” Potter said, and then, more loudly, “Draco and I had sex.”
A collective gasp echoed around the hall at Potter’s confession. Draco would’ve found it amusing had he not been too busy trying not to implode from the sheer embarrassment and horror of the situation.
“Potter, I am going to kill you!” Draco shouted, furious, but before he could do any permanent damage to Potter, a loud swishing sound filled his ears.
The next thing he knew, he was knocked unconscious by what appeared to be a flurry of skeletal bones.
Draco woke up to the sensation of something wet and warm wrapped around his cock, gently and insistently applying pressure while alternating between sucking and licking. Despite the throbbing headache that was in the process of tearing his brain apart, Draco was more engrossed by the pleasure that left his body tingling pleasantly. He could feel his orgasm building from his spine, spreading like fire all over his body down to his curling toes. With a soft moan Draco came, his hips twisting as the suctioning became even more persistent, milking him until the last drop.
When Draco opened his eyes, the groan that came out of his mouth was that of irritation.
“Potter, did your parents never teach you it’s rude to molest a sick person?” Draco groused, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“Must have missed the lesson when I was trying not to get killed along with my parents.” Potter sounded as if he was speaking into Draco’s ear. Draco didn’t have time to tell him to fuck off before Potter was kissing him.
Potter tasted like come. Draco scrunched up his face in distaste and nudged him away weakly.
“Don’t kiss me,” Draco said sulkily. He hated it when people didn’t follow his orders.
“Your pouting mouth isn’t helping the case,” Potter said and kissed him again, his lips gently brushing against Draco’s, nose nudging nose. There was something inexplicable and significant blooming between them, but Draco was too occupied with feeling like a trampled victim of a giant to realize it.
“So tell me why Nott is trying to kill you. His Summoning Charm was quite impressive, by the way; I think he rallied the entire skeleton collection in the castle to the Great Hall,” Potter murmured, his lips forming words against Draco’s own. When he felt a warm body laying down next to his, Draco convinced himself that the reason why he wasn’t pushing Potter away was because he was really, really tired, and Potter’s brain was too puny to understand the concept of fuck off.
“He’s just a drama queen,” Draco explained, sighing when Potter kissed the side of his face, right where his cheek and ear met. “He didn’t take it very well when I told him I didn’t have sexual feelings for him.”
“So he decided to kill you?” Potter’s lips slid down to his jaw. Draco stretched his neck, allowing Potter to kiss his way down to Draco’s collarbone. Draco might not like Potter, but he couldn't deny that the man had the mouth of a saint.
“Slytherins are very possessive. If we can’t have something, no one else can either. Did you not hear about that incident between Goyle and McGonagall’s birthday cake? Are we in the infirmary?”
“Yes,” Potter said, and then in a sudden move, he was above Draco and kissing him again. This time, he pushed his way into Draco’s mouth, forcing Draco to taste himself, mapping out Draco’s mouth with his tongue. Potter would never be graceful in anything he did, but at least he made it up with his enthusiasm.
“If you date me, I’ll make sure he’ll never try to kill you again,” Potter bargained once they broke away for air. Draco opened an eye. Potter was gazing down at him with the strangest expression. It almost seemed… tender.
Ugh, I am not touched by this, not a bit. “And be killed by your fan club instead? No, thanks.” Oh Merlin, now that the news was out, Draco had to find a way to do some damage control or face the dire consequences. His father would surely disown him once he got wind of Potter’s little stunt, and that would not do for his general wellbeing. Being high-maintenance did not come cheap, he could testify to that.
That thought made him a little mad at Potter again. He couldn’t be too mad at him, though, considering how the man just woke him up from his stupor with a blowjob, but he digressed.
“Why won’t you give me a chance? All I’m asking is one date,” Potter persisted. “You like me well enough in bed.”
“The key word is bed, Potter,” Draco replied, agitated. “Now stop bothering me. I have a headache and your yapping isn’t helping.”
Potter got off Draco and stood up, frowning throughout. “You’re surprisingly stubborn, Malfoy.”
“Thank you, now piss off,” Draco said, pulling the blanket over his head.
Potter didn’t get the hint. “You saw what I did today at dinner, and believe me, I’m not stopping until you realize that you’re not getting away from me that easily. Slytherins aren’t the only ones who understand possessiveness, Malfoy.”
As Draco listened to Potter’s fading footsteps, he couldn’t help feeling as if Potter had just revealed something very meaningful.
Your indiscretion with the Potter boy horrifies and embarrasses me. You will be properly punished.
Your loving but nevertheless irate father,
PS. Your mother wishes to remind you to use protection.
When Draco got that letter (oblivious to the oddly sweet smell that wafted up from the parchment), he didn’t quite realize how quickly he was going to be punished, nor how severely.
No, he was not being dramatic. Father had always been a militaristic disciplinarian of sort – mother once vaguely mentioned something about a uniform fetish and a Muggle War that happened in the 40s – but Draco stopped listening after the word ‘fetish’, and as a consequence never really knew why father was so drastic when it came to dishing out punishments.
He’d thought father was past all the corporeal and psychological discipline after that near drowning incident back in pre-school (no, it was not possible to teach a child how to swim by throwing him unaided into a lake filled with Grindylows, even if that child was a Malfoy), but judging by the undeterred Dementor that was cornering him under the Quidditch stands, he stood corrected.
Draco had been yelling Expecto Patronum for the past five minutes until his throat was sore and still the Dementor advanced toward him, its grotesque fingers reaching out almost obsessively. He swore that when the Dementor breathed, the cold wind carried the word mineee…
Honestly, who knew being irresistible came with such a deathly price?
He was trapped. There was no one around the Quidditch pitch this time of the night, except for him. He should’ve just taken his chance with Nott and his never ending declaration (not to mention murderous ideation) of love instead of seeking some clean air. Blasted dungeons. Why couldn’t Salazar Slytherin set up camp in a tower or something? He bet those stupid Gryffindors never had a problem with ventilation and airborne illnesses. He bet Potter never had a problem finding a window that looked out to something other than merpeople copulating.
He could not believe he was thinking about Potter when his soul was about to be sucked out of his petrified, frozen body.
He could not believe that Potter was flying toward him with his wand pointed at the Dementor, shouting, "Expecto Patronum!"
He could not believe, and was highly offended, that the Dementor cowered and fled under Potter’s magic but was completely unaffected by his own overwhelming prowess! The indignity! The insult! There were not enough exclamation marks to express his outrage!
When Potter landed with much more grace than he had ever exhibited on ground, Draco groaned out loud.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
Potter raised an eyebrow, as if saying Are you for real? and Draco couldn’t help but admired his flushed cheeks and bright green eyes. How came he never noticed that Potter’s eyes were green? It took him a minute to remember that he hated Potter and therefore anything about the man disinterested him. But if Draco was placed under duress, he supposed he would admit that Potter’s eyes were quite lovely. They reminded him of fairy lights and summer’s magic.
No, Draco! Draco’s logic screamed at him in his mind, desperately pushing through the other voices (yes there were voices in his head, and his psychiatrist confirmed that it was perfectly normal), Potter’s eyes remind you of the slime that Flobberworms produce in their vomit when they contract a stomach virus.
Why the fuck was he contemplating Potter’s eyes, anyway? Oh Merlin and Morgana he was going mad.
“It might not have been the smartest move to spray yourself with the scent of honeysuckle and grandma’s apple pie. That’s like catnip for Dementors,” Potter commented as he approached Draco, dropping his broom on the wet grass as he did so.
“I did no such thing!” Draco said, affronted by Potter’s accusation. “I don’t have a death wish, you know!” Did he think Draco was an idiot or something? Everyone knew that!
“Well, I could smell you from miles away,” Potter said, eyeing Draco wickedly. Before Draco knew it Potter’s nose was breathing hot air against his throat and his lips were brushing Draco’s sensitive skin. “You smell… delicious.”
Draco couldn’t help it. He moaned. Damn Potter and his flattery. Draco could never resist ego boosting comments like that.
With more force than Draco had intended, he pushed Potter to the ground and crawled on top of him. It was about time he showed Potter who was the boss around here!
Draco forwent all foreplay and spelled Potter’s pants off, too impatient to pull down his bottoms mechanically. He was impressed to note that Potter was already hard and ready to go. The power of being eighteen, he supposed.
Potter had claimed control over Draco twice with his undeniably hot mouth, and Draco vowed to have Potter eating out of his hand by the time he was done with him tonight.
What he did not anticipate was to choke on Potter’s cock as he attempted to swallow the man.
“Draco, are you okay?” Potter exclaimed, pulling Draco up by his elbow and patting his back. “Oh my god, breathe!”
Draco was both embarrassed and horror-struck at the position he’d gotten himself into. Potter had made sucking cock seem like the easiest task in the world, and Draco was duped by his effortlessness. The bastard. No, the fucking slut.
“Shut up, Potter,” Draco wheezed out once he got his coughing under control. Draco would not lose to Potter like this. He placed one hand determinedly on Potter’s cock and the other on his chest, forcing him back to the ground.
Potter lifted his head to look at Draco worriedly. “Um, you don’t really have to do this if you don’t want to…”
Draco squeezed Potter hard, relishing in the squawk the man let out. “If you don’t shut up I will shove your broomstick so far up your arse that you’ll never be able to walk in a straight line ever again.”
Potter shut up.
Satisfied, Draco went down on Potter again, this time slower. He took the head of Potter’s cock into his mouth, disgusted by the texture and the come that was dripping from the slit. His disgust was quickly replaced by curiosity and arousal when Potter let out a long winded moan, sounding as if someone was killing him and he was enjoying it. Draco liked that.
With more vigor and enthusiasm, Draco took more of Potter into his mouth and, remembering what Potter had done to make him scream, Draco gave a hard suck. Potter’s body gave a violent spasm, and Draco had to pull back because Potter had unexpectedly thrust into his mouth, with no pre-warning! How utterly rude!
"Don’t do that!" Draco mumbled indignantly around Potter’s cock, belatedly realizing that he didn’t make much sense and that Potter was not listening to him, too far gone in his pleasure to pay attention to the man responsible for his good fortune. The self-absorbed prick.
Draco’s mental complaint was overshadowed by his interest in Potter’s response to cock sucking. Potter was very vocal, not afraid of making noises when Draco licked the underside of his cock, squeezed his balls, kissed the tip of his engorged member. He twisted and touched his nipples and fisted his hands in Draco’s hair as he jerked up in time with Draco’s downward motion, albeit gentler than before. He called Draco’s name - yes, his name, not his family’s - as if Draco was the only thing he’d ever known, the only good thing he’d ever known. And Draco, beyond the smugness and triumph, felt special.
Fuck, he was so fucking hard. Who knew he could be stimulated by nothing but the sounds Potter was making and the needy way he was lifting his hips, practically offering himself to Draco. Nothing should be allowed to look that good, but the wanton display of Potter’s body practically made him come without even a touch.
So absorbed in Potter’s honest and open response, Draco almost choked again when Potter gave a loud, drawn out cry and came, quickly filling Draco’s mouth with thick spunk. Even as Draco pulled away from Potter’s buckling hips, the man didn’t stop coming, which unerringly resulted in come shooting all over Draco’s face, much to his consternation and revolt.
“Damn it, Potter, stop it!” Draco cried, forgetting the rather important and obvious fact that Potter couldn’t stop until he was, well, finished. And oh boy could Potter come. Draco rather thought the porn industry would die from sheer joy the day they discovered Potter, which would never happen if Draco had his way. No one was allowed to see Potter like this!
“Malfoy,” Potter said breathlessly once he got some wind back, gazing at Draco as if he was the most wonderful creature to ever walk the earth, which was a given, obviously, but it felt good to have that reverent recognition plastered all over Potter’s face. “That was… you…”
Draco was quite smug when Potter, rendered speechless by his general awesome, grabbed him by his neck and pulled him into an eager, almost worshipful kiss, and then proceeded to lick his own come off Draco’s face. Draco’s cock sprang back to attention, and Potter, blessed him, didn’t miss a beat before taking it into his hand and finishing Draco off with deft fingers.
After Draco came back from his orgasmic high, he noticed that Potter was looking at him and smiling. Too content to even deign it disturbing, Draco smiled back goofily, not caring (or rather, not realizing) that they looked like two half naked morons sappily grinning at one another as if they shared a wicked secret.
Once they were properly dressed, Draco waited for Potter’s dreaded declaration of endearments and status quo as he did every night since they started this whole thing. Alright, so perhaps Potter didn’t exactly speak of such, but Draco could totally read between the lines (obliviously missing the more obvious ones). Potter wanted his arse for keep, and Draco wasn’t about to doom himself to monogamy just yet, regardless of how talented Potter’s fingers were and how much Draco was obsessed with his generous mouth, and don’t even get him started on Potter’s mouth-watering dick…
When Potter did none of the above and opted instead to grab his broomstick and make to leave, Draco got pissed off.
“Where the fuck are you going?!” His mother would be appalled by his language, but at this moment Draco cared more about the delivery of his fury than his mother’s disapproval.
Potter looked at him, his eyes widening in mild surprise. “To see Ginny.”
Draco almost gaped at him. To see Ginny, sure, as if that was something one did casually after one got a blowjob from one’s ex-nemesis-turned-one’s-something-not-completely-lover-and-not-entirely-sex-friend-someone. Oooh Draco was so mad he could kill!
“What on earth could you possibly be doing at this hour with that freckle-faced poverty-stricken slut!” Draco didn’t know how he could’ve started his question with such indifference and ended in such a jealous note, but there it was.
And Potter, it appeared, caught the tone. “Jealous, Malfoy?”
Draco didn’t have time to say something derisive and clever in retort before Ginger-haired appeared, calling Harry’s name and waving at him like a lovestruck pathetic idiot. Gods he hated redheads.
Potter laughed and surprised Draco with a light kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry, you know I’m mad for you. We’re just going over Quidditch strategies.”
At one in the morning with her dressing like a mix between a London whore and a drag queen in heels? Who do you think I am? Draco wanted to shout resentfully, but he didn’t want Potter to think he felt anything toward this obvious ruse Weaslette had schemed up in order to get into Potter’s pants. Pants that Draco was just in mere minutes ago. That thought did not help to lessen his anger, so Draco bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything he might hate himself for later.
Potter grinned at him one last time and left, joining Miss Five-Recurrent-Episodes-of-STDs-Weasley (Lavender Brown did not have the capability to keep anything a secret) on the pitch and allowing her to touch him with her dirty fingers, smiling that smile that only Draco was allowed to see! That cheating bastard!
But the absolute last straw had to be when the Hogwarts Whore turned around and smirked at Draco before leaning into Potter and planting a kiss on his cheek.
Draco saw red.
“Harry, I think your boyfriend is going to rip my head off and feed it to the dogs,” Ginny Weasley whispered to Harry as they sat in the Great Hall next to one another. Harry glanced over to Draco, who was indeed looking at Ginny as if he would bite off her head if given the chance. He must be pretty upset, if he didn’t even notice Nott trying to slip him a potion.
With a surreptitious flick of his wand Harry sent Draco’s goblet smacking into Nott's face, feeling loads better when Nott held his bleeding nose and ran out of the Great Hall. Served him right for his multiple failed attempts on Draco’s life. There was no way Harry was going to let Draco die before he got Draco to fall in love with him. Scratch that, there was no way he was going to let Draco die, ever, not while Harry was still alive and capable of inflicting severe damage on his assailants. Nott wasn’t going to get away just yet for what he’d done to Draco. As for Lucius and the ill-fated Dementor… well, Harry couldn’t really do much about that until Draco introduced him to the family properly.
But he was thinking too far ahead into the future.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry whispered back. Yet. “Thanks for last night, by the way. I think I’m getting closer to getting a date out of him.”
Ginny looked unconvinced. “I think you’ve made me a target for kill games. You heard what Death Eaters used to do in their free time.”
“Danced naked around Voldemort singing I’m a slave 4 u?”
Ginny glared at him. “Not funny. I happen to like slutty Britney Spears.”
“You mean sluts, period,” Harry corrected, and earned himself a smack over the head. “Hey!”
“Focus, boy toy,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “I still don’t know why you like him so much anyway. I mean, look at him. You can totally tell he’s going to suffer significant hair loss in his later years. And frankly, I can’t imagine a fate worse than living with a man whose beauty products exceed a drag queen’s personal style collection.”
Harry didn’t understand Ginny’s skepticism. “But, Ginny, look at him. How can you not see how incredible he is?” Harry gazed at Draco dreamily. The man was… Harry was sure the world had not made up a word powerful enough to describe how amazing Harry found Draco, from his slightly crooked nose (which Harry would never mention to him, god forbid) all the way down to his lovely little toes. Harry even liked his impressive ability to deny the obvious if it didn’t suit him, and alright, he also liked that Draco found twisted reasons to keep getting Harry naked, and the noises he made when Harry brought him off. But most of all, he liked that despite whatever Draco said out loud, he spoke volumes in the way he touched Harry and kissed him and looked at him.
He knew the look. He saw it plenty of times whenever he flipped through the old photo album Sirius gave him, filled with photos of his father and mother, their gazes telling tales that only a lucky few got to experience in their lifetime.
“Umm, no.” Harry vaguely heard Ginny say, too absorbed in his Draco-watching, and the way Draco was looking at Parkinson in disgust. God, it stumped him how Draco could make condescending look hip. “He reminds me of a ferret.”
“Well, I think they’re really cute,” Harry said absently, forcing his mind to focus on the conversation at hand. “You don’t understand. When I’m around him, he’s just so different. He’s all sorts of contradictory and he hates to admit he’s vulnerable when he is and I don’t care because I can just tell when he needs me. And he’s so full of flaws but I love them because they’re parts of who he is.
“And when we touch, he makes me feel…” Special, wonderful, powerful, humbled, worthy. “Wicked.”
Ginny eyed Harry as if she didn’t quite comprehend what he was talking about. “You sound like a lovesick twelve-year-old on prime-time soap. Or Broadway. I’ll take your word for it, so please, no more. It’s enough that I walked in on the two of you last night. You could’ve warned me.”
Harry laughed. “I wasn’t expecting it.” And that was another thing he loved about Draco. His unpredictability was as electrifying as the sight of his body.
Ginny gave him a long look. “Damn Harry, you’re so whipped, you realize?”
Harry smiled, turning back to Draco. “You have no idea.”
Potter was whispering with Ginny Weasley. Whispering, sharing secrets, breathing the same air. Gods they might as well be fucking like bunnies the way they were being all chummy together. Draco was so furious at Potter for playing him like this. No one had sex with a Malfoy and flirted on the side with someone else.
Draco couldn’t stop thinking about the way Potter and he parted last night, with the Weasley bitch pawing at Potter and him, the idiot, doing nothing to stop her. He never pegged Potter for a tramp, but clearly, he was wrong.
Draco did not like being wrong. Naturally, he did what every proper Malfoy would when faced with a situation such as this (once again demonstrating his extraordinary skill for ignoring the logical), he cornered Potter after dinner.
Potter didn’t expect to be manhandled into a broom closet by an absolutely incensed blond, but that was too bad. Potter should’ve known there were going to be consequences for fraternizing with the enemy.
“I really, really hate you,” Draco declared once he got Potter against the wall and the broomsticks to stop falling down on their heads. Potter looked confused and lost and Draco hated him even more for being so difficult to hate.
Gods, Potter is so irritating, Draco thought and decided that if Potter was going to be annoying (forgetting the fact that poor dear hadn’t done anything), he was going to get something out of putting up with him, so Draco kissed him. Potter responded quickly, running his hands through Draco’s hair all the way down to his arse, grabbing and bringing their pelvis close. Draco would never understand why his body was so attuned to Potter’s, and to be quite honest, he didn’t give a damn. As long as he got off, Draco told himself.
Their bodies pressed against one another, mouth against mouth, kissing violently, wanting and taking and hurting but in a good way. Draco dug his nails into Potter’s shoulders and bit his lower lip before sucking on it, savoring the moaning noises that he was beginning to familiarize himself with. Draco was slowly but surely learning Potter’s responses, like the soft, broken sound Potter uttered when Draco kissed the place behind his ear, or the surprised gasp he let out when Draco sucked at his Adam’s apple. And the quickly identifiable, short rapid breaths Potter took as he thrust against Draco erratically, signaling his impending release.
Draco groaned and pressed his face against Potter’s neck, coming and shuddering from the sheer force of his orgasm. The answering wetness from the general vicinity indicated that Potter had come, as well.
They stood there, leaning against one another for a long time, not talking, only waiting until their breathing returned to normal. Draco was puzzled and alarmed at the easy comfort he found in Potter’s heat, radiating from his body and making Draco's skin tingle pleasantly. How was it possible that in less than a week, he had come to know Potter’s body so well that he was now completely at ease being close to it when before, he could hardly stand being around him for just one minute?
Disturbed and flushed, Draco tucked the question in the back of his mind for later pondering and moved away from Potter, crossing his arms when they were at a respectable distance (or as respectable as a cramped closet allowed).
“What on earth were you whispering about with Weasley?” Draco asked jealously, not knowing that he sounded sulky and accusatory.
Potter only smiled secretly and brushed a strayed hair out of Draco’s face. His answer was as mystifying to Draco as the tenderness apparent in his gesture:
The groundskeeper’s hut was lit by the glowing jack-o-lanterns scattered around the wet ground and hanging in midair. This horrendous project was Hagrid’s ‘brilliant’ idea. By some god forbid inspiration that got him believing that these carved pumpkins made for a romantic midnight walk with his wife, all the students (and by all students, Draco meant himself) suffered through an entire class using knives to carve these unpleasant objects. By hand, no less. Just thinking about it made him shudder in disgust. Perhaps mother was right; Hogwarts had too many plebeian practices for someone with such class and elegance as he.
Anyhow, it wasn’t as if Draco enjoyed wading through a sea of squishy pumpkin pulp and dodging bone-breaking jack-o-lanterns floating in his path, but he couldn’t help it. Earlier tonight, he got a mysterious note on his bed that said,
Potter is going on a date with Ginny Weasley tonight. They’re meeting at the pumpkin patch.
Normally, Draco would wonder how someone could have infiltrated the impenetrable dungeons to get to his bedroom and slip him a note, but upon seeing the word date and Weasley, Draco’s logic flew right out of his mind and took a long deserved vacation (it was about time Draco listened to his heart, anyway). So at an hour to midnight, Draco was found wandering through the pumpkin patch and wondering if his clothes would ever survive the mud, the smell, and the stupid pumpkins!
When Draco had made a complete search of the place and still found no sign of Potter or Weasley, he began to suspect something was up.
Well, it turned out, he was not wrong, but he was a tad late at figuring it out as usual.
At least he got the hint that someone (most probably Nott, who had been rejected by Draco once again today) was playing a really bad joke on him when the jack-o-lanterns shot toward him, their hideousness plain as day and their razor like mouth cackling evilly.
Survival instinct kicked in just in time, shoving him toward the one obvious action that all Malfoys learned at a young age to execute when faced with danger: run.
So Draco ran, all the while hating Potter and swearing that if he survived the visual and physical assault tonight, he was going to make Potter buy him new shoes.
The jack-o-lanterns were approaching fast, and they were gaining in number. Draco ran toward the lake and pulled out his wand.
“Expulso!” He cried, waving his wand blindly and hearing a few explosions, but the laughter didn’t stop.
I knew something as hideous as these could never be romantic or fun! Once again that mad giant proves to be the death of me! Draco thought frantically, noticing that he was getting closer to the lake. At this rate, it was either death by smashing pumpkins or drowning. Neither option was viable. Draco had a very specific vision of how he was going to die and he would not be denied by the hand – or head of these nasty creatures!
And then, as was the case in recent history, a familiar voice boomed out in the darkness, “Protego!”
Draco heard sounds of smashing and squishing of pumpkins, and then, dead silence.
“No, for the love of Merlin, no,” Draco said, almost hysterically, trying to catch his breath and knowing just exactly who was standing right behind him without even looking. Who else would be attracted to Draco’s misfortunes like a bloody moth to a hot and ever burning flame?
“Fancy seeing you here, Malfoy,” Potter’s voice sounded way too cheerful for his liking.
When Draco got some wind back, he turned around and tried his hardest to glare at Potter, who had, once again, saved his life. Honestly, was the man stalking him or something? “Why, Potter?Why are you here? Where’s your girlfriend?”
Potter blinked at him innocently. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
His near death incident completely forgotten in the face of such an atrocious lie, Draco turned his attention to Potter and the real reason why he came here at this ungodly hour in the first place.
“Are you telling me you’re not here to see Weasley?” Draco challenged, his eyes flashing.
“Well, I am, but we’re just here to redo some jack-o-lanterns. Ginny asked me to help carve hers because she didn’t get a chance to finish this morning.” Potter looked so infuriatingly earnest and eager to help that Draco wanted to smack some evil into him, not knowing that Harry had his own share of wickedness, thank you very much.
Before Draco could say something that would inadvertently be laced with green jealousy, the object of his hatred came rushing out of nowhere, her face splattered with freckles as if they were a weapon of visual destruction.
“Harry, I’m so glad you came!” Weasley said, giving Draco that surreptitious smirk again. What was up with Gryffindors stealing his trademark smirk!? Must he have to patent everything!?
“Ginny, hey,” Potter said, smiling softly when she took his arm and linked hers around his. “I’m afraid we will have to start from the beginning; there was a slight mishap with the already made jack-o-lanterns.”
Weasley practically simpered and clung onto Potter tighter, much to Draco’s horror. “Of course, Harry! I don’t mind at all. We can stay here all night if we must.”
And then, as if to deliver the final blow, Weasley looked directly at him and said in a most sickening, sweet voice, “It’s a date.”
The last tenuous thread that held Draco’s monster at bay snapped. Out of nowhere, Draco’s hand was clutching his wand and then somehow, he was screaming the world “Accio!”
Before any of them knew it, Ginny Weasley was lying at Potter’s foot, buried underneath a pile of smashed pumpkins.
“Malfoy!” Potter cried, making to lean down toward Ginny and see if she was okay.
Draco grabbed him by the front of his hideous shirt and kissed him bruisingly, refusing to give Potter a moment to get a breather. He was so hot and aroused and angry that he wanted to do something awful!
What he ended up doing was tripping over his own robes and pulling Potter down to the ground with him. Draco would’ve been more horrified by the fact that he was lying on top of pulverized pumpkins if not for Potter’s hands taking liberty with his person. Draco didn’t care that he was going to be dirty and gross, all he cared about was for Potter to kiss him hard and to grab onto him tightly, grinding their erections together without preamble because he wanted Potter to only ever do that to him, to be the only person Potter wanted to touch and taste and wrap his arms around.
“Draco, bloody hell, you’re so –" Potter said breathlessly, nonsensically, yanking Draco’s robes up and his pants down and out of the way before putting his mouth on Draco’s balls. What came out of Draco’s mouth could only be described as a scream.
Potter planted kisses on his balls and cock, sucking and licking impatiently, as if he couldn’t decide on what to do, as if he was so overwhelmed by Draco’s presence that he had to haveeverything. Draco didn’t have the brain power to wonder what that meant exactly, because Potter’s tongue was unmistakably on his arse crack.
His entire body convulsed as if electrified. Draco almost lifted completely off the ground at the unexpectedness, shocked at Potter’s gall but Potter’s arms were around his thighs, hands gripping possessively as he pressed further in. Draco could feel Potter's nose against his arsehole, his lips on the rim, and that tongue – oh – slipping inside before retreating, licking a path back to his balls and then his cock and – oh gods another suck before delving back to the place where the sun didn’t shine. The licks turned to thrusts, which turned into sucks and Draco could only lay there with his nails digging into the ground, trying his hardest not to wake up the entire population of Hogwarts and all the creatures that lived in the Forest. It was so fucking difficult when Potter kept doing that!
When Potter pushed a finger inside his hole and found his pleasure area, Draco couldn’t hold it in anymore. With one hand he grabbed his cock and jerked himself off. It didn’t take long before he was coming and crying out his violent release.
Potter moaned and pulled away from Draco’s bottom, rising to his knees and straddling Draco’s waist as he tugged fast at his red, hard cock. Draco watched, mesmerized at the way Potter threw his head back, one hand playing with his nipple and the other rapidly flying over his cock. It was so fucking hot, how unrestrained Potter was, like he couldn’t care less what he looked like as long as he was riding the waves of pleasure. Draco fucking loved it.
Draco swatted Potter’s hand away and wrapped his lips around Potter’s cock, sucking him down until he couldn’t go any further. There it was, Potter’s voice, low and growling, rising in a crescendo as Draco did what Potter had done for him. His efforts paid off when soon, Potter was coming, thrusting into his mouth. Draco pulled away, not wanting to choke, and ended up, once again, with a face wet with come. Honestly, this had got to stop.
Potter sat down on Draco’s lap and wiped Draco’s face with his shirt, kissing him softly.
Draco pushed him away – Potter’s mouth was just in his arse, thanks very much. No matter Draco’s feelings for the man’s luscious lips, he was not interested in finding out what arse tasted like.
“Tomorrow,” Draco said decisively, his eyes flaring with heat and determination. “We’re going out on a date.”
Somehow, words got out that Draco and Harry were going on a date that night. Draco highly suspected Weasley’s involvement. He thought she’d died (which would've been good riddance the bloody whore) when he set the pumpkins on her, but clearly, he was wrong. This was what happened when one got lost in the throes of passion and forgot to check on one’s enemy to make sure she was good and dead. His father would be ashamed. Well, he would be if he wasn’t already suffering a psychological breakdown upon the discovery of Draco’s upcoming date with Potter, according to a very upset letter his mother sent him earlier today.
He couldn’t care much about his father now. All he wanted was to find a set of clothes for tonight’s date that would blow Potter’s puny brain away, something he would’ve done earlier had it not been for the swarm of girls (and surprisingly a good number of boys) trying to murder him for ‘brainwashing’ Potter. Apparently the perfect Golden Boy could not possibly and unhealthily be obsessed with Draco in his right state of mind. Draco was offended by such accusation. In his personal opinion, anyone who wasn’t glamorized by his perfection required a thorough psychological evaluation.
By the time Draco got back to his room, he was faced by a very put out Pansy Parkinson, who still held sexual feelings for him despite his various attempts to tell her he liked cock. After getting rid of her and her especially sharp nails, he was then waylaid by Blaise Zabini, who tried to seduce him with his completely naked body displayed on Draco’s bed. Draco ended up stunning him and throwing him out into the hallway, utterly grossed out by the boy’s shocking hairiness.
When he thought he was alone, Draco went to take a shower and found himself at wand point by none other than Theodore Nott. Honestly, the man really needed to take a hint!
Lucky for Draco, as Nott made his way toward him and spluttered nonsense about love and his personal shrine to Draco, he slipped on the wet tiles and banged his head against the floor.
Draco contemplated on leaving him there to die for a brief minute, but then decided to do the right thing (ugh what an awful thing to even think about) and took him to the infirmary. Also, he suspected the discovery of a dead body in his bathroom would not bode well, and quite frankly, he did not have the time to deal with the hassel of other people’s morals.
When Draco was finally alone in his dormitory, he realized he had only thirty minutes to prepare for his date.
Draco thought it was an appropriate time to start panicking. He needed to take a shower, fix his hair, and find a heart-stopping outfit! He didn’t even have enough time to do some relaxation exercises! Why on earth did he agree to go on a date with Potter anyway? Nothing good had come out of it so far, except for the mind-blowing sex. But they didn’t need to date to have sex, Draco thought, hating the fact that there was doubt nudging insistently at him as if saying, Are you kidding?
Sure, Draco was curious as to what Potter had planned for their date. The man had been surprisingly tight-lipped about it. It made Draco really, really nervous.
Somehow, Draco managed to do what usually required at least two hours in forty-five minutes. He looked at himself once again in the mirror, allowing it to compliment him on his striking good looks before he went to the door of his bedroom, ready to face Potter and whatever the night was going to bring.
With his mind full of possibilities, Draco didn’t realize there was someone outside of his room until he ran straight into him.
“Draco, pleased to see you too,” Potter said, his hands catching Draco around his hips.
Draco rolled his eyes, trying his hardest not to stare at Potter’s black t-shirt and tight jeans. Oh gods, the way his clothes clung to his body left very little to the imagination.
“Why the hell are you here? I thought we agreed to meet in front of the Great Hall.”
“Change of plan,” Potter said, grinning. “Everyone heard about our date and is now congregating around the Great Hall. I thought we could sneak out from a window or something.”
Draco gave him a look. “You do realize that we’re in the dungeons, don’t you?”
Potter grinned unabashedly. “Okay, so maybe I just wanted to see your bedroom.”
Draco gasped when Potter brought their bodies against one another. Perhaps deciding to wear leather pants was a wrong move, after all. His eager cock was already straining in its confinement.
“I thought people usually do that after their date,” Draco said, his words ending in a moan when Potter leaned close and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. The man smelled like spice and shampoo. Draco managed to hold himself back from throwing Potter onto the floor, and felt quite proud of his extraordinary self-control.
Focus, Draco, you can resist him! His brain lied pathetically even as Draco put his hands around Potter’s waist and tilted his head so that their lips would slide against one another properly.
“I wanted to wait,” Potter murmured into his mouth, walking him backward into his own bedroom and kicking the door closed. “But you can’t expect me to be cool when you’re wearing leather, can you?”
Potter tugged at Draco’s cashmere scarf until it came loose around his neck. So much for spending five minutes arranging it so that the scarf would wind fashionably around his neck, Draco thought half-heartedly, falling onto his bed and taking Potter with him.
He liked that Potter wasted no time in divesting him of his clothes, even if he was peeved by the fact that he wasn’t going to have the chance to show off his exquisite fashion style. Well, it didn’t matter anyway, not as long as Potter continued to kiss him like he couldn't get enough. Draco slid his hands under Potter’s shirt and helped him take it off, unable to stop himself from admiring Potter’s chest. When he wore his oversized shirts, Potter did so deceive him as to what lay underneath. In a secret, dark corner of his mind, Draco could not believe he didn’t discover this lovely fact sooner. Perhaps then…
Then what? You’d have accosted him in the Quidditch locker and had your wicked ways with him? Draco was beginning to hate that knowing voice in his head. It always said the most ridiculous things! If anything, he bet that it was Potter who would end up accosting him! The man had an obsession, Draco should know.
Draco arched up and pressed a kiss to Potter’s collarbone, and another one below that, all the way down to his right nipple, where he bit into gently. Potter’s hand found his head and urged it forward. Draco got the hint and bit him harder. Potter gave an involuntary thrust against Draco’s thigh before pulling his head up for another kiss, this one with more force and vigour in it. Draco happily returned his kiss, flattening his hands on Potter’s back, feeling the smooth skin and wanting to taste it.
“Will you suck me off?” Potter asked, and Draco almost came at the way Potter’s voice hushed the words, his voice low, quiet with need and want. It was the knowledge that he was the one who made Potter sound as if he was breaking apart, vulnerable, that made him roll Potter to his back and slid down toward Potter’s crotch.
Potter lifted his hips so that Draco could pull his pants down, allowing that wonderfully engorged cock to emerge, already standing at attention. Draco wasted no time, wanting to hear Potter moan for him, to twist under him as his mouth worked him to completion, and Potter did everything just like Draco wanted him to. He arched and cried and struggled to catch his breath when Draco sucked him hard, hand squeezing his balls and then licking them. He was getting used to Potter’s taste, and although Draco hadn't spent his life refining his palate for the taste of cock, he was... somewhat certain that he would learn to love doing this, as long as Potter kept up his incredibly arousing responses. Every move Draco made elicited a reaction from him, as if Potter enjoyed everything Draco did. Draco knew this was not true, because despite the fact that he was getting better at this whole blowing business, he was still not the greatest cocksucker, and so tended to apply a bit of teeth once in a while. But Potter’s hands were in his hair and they helped guided him, showing him when he was getting ahead of himself. He liked that Potter didn’t mind when Draco pulled off his cock to catch his breath and let his jaw rest.
“Come here,” Potter said, and then he was on top of Draco, his gloriously naked body flushed and against Draco’s so that their cocks were rubbing against one another. The sensation was so overwhelming, so powerful, that Draco knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself in control for long.
Potter touched Draco everywhere, biting him on his lip and then his neck before sucking a mark on his neck, his chest, the inside of his arm. Their undulating bodies eventually gave into the rising passion, and Draco clenched his eyes tight, mouth against Potter’s neck, biting hard as he jerked up, coming long and hard and wanting Potter’s arms around him forever.
Potter came mere moments later, ducking his head to capture Draco’s lips desperately. Even after they stopped coming, they continued to kiss one another as if there was no tomorrow, as if the world had disappeared and they were the only two left, teenagers discovering magic in the privacy of Draco’s bedroom.
When Draco thought he was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen (and perhaps from the electrifying body contact he was sharing with Potter), he nudged Potter away, eyeing him as if seeing him in a new light.
He had never seen Potter naked before. Well, he had, but it had always been in the dark, and never with proper lighting. The way the candle light spilled over Potter’s glistening skin made him look insanely gorgeous, but Draco was too distracted by Potter’s expression as the man gazed adoringly at him to truly appreciate it.
Gods, I am so screwed, Draco groaned internally, but out loud, he affected a bored drawl and said, “That was a nice treat.”
Potter grinned, his fingers tracing random paths on Draco's hip. “I still have a surprise waiting for you, if you’re up for it.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Already? Give a bloke a minute to recover, won’t you?”
Potter laughed, leaning in for a kiss. Draco surprised himself by offering him his lips without a protest. “That’s not what I meant. Ready for our date?”
Draco didn't get a chance to answer him before the door to his bedroom banged open.
Draco shot up to a sitting position, noting out of the corner of his eye that Potter did the same. He was sure nothing in the world could describe his horror upon seeing his father and mother standing at the door, looking as if they’d just walked into their ultimate hell.
Parkinson appeared behind the two frozen Malfoys, smirking wickedly. “Trick or treat.”
Draco sat on the leather couch in the Slytherin common room, trying his hardest not to fidget. Sitting next to him was Potter, still as a statue. He couldn’t look at Potter at the moment, lest he implode with sheer embarrassment. There were certain things one’s parents should never see, like Potter’s spunk on Draco’s chest and Potter’s glorious arse in full view. Merlin, the implication of what they’d been up to mere moments before couldn’t be clearer than if it jumped up and smacked the Malfoy seniors in the face screaming THEY’RE DOING IT. He knew Pansy Parkinson was a she-devil. No human would be so evil as to recruit a man’s parents to stop him from going out on a date. Merlin, sometimes he wondered why he lived with these single-minded, vengeful idiots. It would be a relief to never see them ever again after graduation.
Unfortunately, Draco knew better than anyone that of course that wasn’t true. These were his friends, and though they loved him in the worst ways possible, they still loved him and would do practically anything for him. Really, they had once conspired (and came very close) to kill Percy Weasley after the stuck up, I-have-a-stick-so-far-up-my-arse-I-walk-sideways-sometimes bastard told Draco he had a premature gray hair! Honestly, gray hair! What slander! Draco could’ve sued!
But anyway, that was a long time ago, and there was no need to bring up bad memories. The most important thing right now was figuring out how to douse the fire and get out of facing his parents’ wrath in one piece. Perhaps if he threw Potter at them and ran, he would be able to hide long enough that his parents would be appeased by killing only Potter.
Potter grabbed his hand tightly, glaring at him as if to say I know what you’re thinking and you’re not leaving me here alone with them!
Draco tried to shake Potter’s hand off, but he held fast. Draco glared back at him. Let me go, Potter! You clearly have the situation under control so I’ll come back when they’re done killing you!
His father, who had been pacing up and down the common room with his face pinched together as if he was trying not to have an apoplectic episode, turned to them and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.
“Potter, unhand my son at once!” Lucius roared, startling both of them. Potter, the idiot, only gripped Draco’s hand tighter and scooted closer to him. Draco was horrified. He did not want to be in the line of fire when his father started hurling hexes at Potter.
“I can’t believe this,” Lucius exclaimed with pain evident in his words and expression. “My son, my son, engaging in … activities with the sworn enemy! How could you! He stole from me!”
“Technically, I didn’t steal from you. I merely set your house-elf free,” Potter chirped in unhelpfully. The bloody idiot. Did he not realize he wasn’t helping the situation by talking to his father?!
Lucius, indeed, did look as if he was going to pull out his wand and hex Potter into next Sunday. He hadn’t seen his father this mad since that awful incident with the broken sling in his private dungeon. It really wasn’t Draco’s fault he hadn't recognized a sex sling from a swing. Sex toyscould be misconstrued as innocent playthings, Draco knew very well. He’d once made quite a fearsome castle out of father’s personal collection of dildos. Really, if father didn’t want Draco to find his personal stuff, he really shouldn’t hide them in his closet. Or behind a door labeled Do not enter. A child’s curiosity was a deadly thing.
“Now now, Lucius dear,” Narcissa spoke up in her mild, soft voice. She had been sitting in an armchair all this time, watching Draco with indecipherable eyes. It was really unnerving. “We’ve discussed this.”
Discussed this? Draco thought, panicking. Discussed what? Disinheritance? Death? Or worse, humiliation? No no no I refuse to wear a dress and prance around the garden for another of mother’s tea parties! The memory was enough to make his body ache unpleasantly.
“Narcissa,” Lucius spluttered, one hand rubbing his forehead as if it was taking all his willpower not to implode. “They’re-! We saw them!”
All three men shuddered at the thought. Narcissa smiled mysteriously.
“And we have confirmed our suspicion,” Narcissa said definitely. “Haven’t we? Take a good look at them, dear.”
Lucius looked as if he would rather walk the road to hell than do such thing. Draco couldn’t blame him. Father once flipped out when he saw Draco kissing a poster of Viktor Krum. He had then proceeded to threaten Krum to never set foot anywhere near the vicinity of his son or else, much to Draco’s petulance. He had really liked Krum! It was not amusing trying to find a moment to talk to Krum when all he did was run away from Draco screaming, Your father is evil! Your father is evil! Similar things had happened in the past with Oliver Wood, Cedric Diggory, and that French boy from Beauxbatons. Draco had hardly gotten a kiss from any of them before his father intervened and thwarted all his potential romantic endeavors.
“But Narcissa!” Lucius said in a voice that sounded very much like a wail. “I cannot tolerate Potter! Look at his hair!”
Draco thought he had never loved his father more. Their sense of beauty was so in sync it was uncanny.
“Yes, dear,” Narcissa said patiently, “But look!”
Reluctantly, Lucius looked. Draco gulped, suddenly thankful for Potter’s weight against his side and the man’s hand curled around his even if that hand was sweating profusely.
A few moments that felt like eternity passed before his mother exclaimed, “Don’t they look so cute together! They’re so obviously in love!”
Draco almost choked on his tongue. “What?” he screeched at the same time his father cried, slapping his hands over his ears, “Don’t say that!”
“I am not in love with Potter!” Draco denied indignantly.
Lucius looked slightly appeased by Draco's exclamation. “There we have it, Narcissa. They are not in love, and therefore cannot –“
“Don’t be so hasty!” Potter said quickly. “Of course we’re in love! Draco couldn’t be more in love with me even if he wanted to, isn’t it true, darling?”
Draco was so horrified by Potter’s baseless(!) assumption that he was rendered speechless. This was, in hindsight, a very bad move because Potter took the opportunity to snuggle closer and kiss him soundly on his mouth. Somewhere beyond the voice in his head screaming in dismay he heard his father stagger backward, as if the shock of it all was killing him.
His mother didn’t help the matter by clapping happily and beaming at Potter. “Welcome to the family, Mr. Potter. I must tell you I’ve been dying to finally meet Draco’s love partner. Granted, the circumstance in which we actually… met was less than desirable, but at least it shed some light to the reason why Draco is so enamored with you.”
Draco turned so red at his mother’s blithe comment that he was sure he was going to burst into flames. From the corner of his eye he saw that his father was suffering from similar feelings.
“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Potter replied, grinning like an idiot. “I can’t wait until the family brunches and holiday dinners.”
Narcissa was beaming even more brightly now. “I must admit that when I first heard of your affair I was very worried about Draco being duped by your hero status and rugged good looks, but I can see now that Draco has made an appropriate choice.” And then, to top the horrific cherry on this iceberg, his mother stood up and walked over to Potter, bending down to pull him into a hug.
When Draco caught his father’s eyes, he was at least glad to see he was not the only one trying his hardest not to bang his head against the nearest wall.
The next night found the two of them on top of the Astronomy Tower, Potter with his mouth on Draco’s cock and Draco gripping onto the banister, trying not to come too fast.
After the disastrous incident last night, Draco had found it in his heart to forgive Potter enough to reschedule their date until today. The small, romantically set table splayed with food was completely forgotten, as things often wont to be when the two of them were in each other’s presence, and Potter was busy with getting Draco off.
It was a practice Draco was quickly becoming very addicted to. Potter was learning new tricks to please him, too. Draco went weak when Potter focused his attention on tonguing the slit on the head of his cock, alternating between sucking it and then teasing it with his tongue as if he was trying to taste Draco’s come without causing Draco’s imminent orgasm. It was certainly a wonderful trick. Draco moaned, throwing his head back as he tried not to collapse. Potter’s hands on his arse were the only things keeping him up. It was hot, despite the night’s wind, and Draco couldn’t help but wish they were inside instead of out here in the balcony, and, more importantly, naked.
Potter was looking up at him, fire in his eyes. When his lips parted from Draco’s cock, the soft endearment Draco had learned to expect escaped Potter’s mouth, sounding less like words and more like a seductive hiss.
Draco gasped and jerked violently at the noise, stunned by the fact that he had just come all over himself from no other stimulation other than Potter’s hissing.
The thought was so shocking and inexplicably significant that Draco didn’t have the heart to help Potter wipe his face off.
“Draco, did you just come untouched?” Potter looked extremely pleased with himself. Draco wanted to smack him a little bit.
“That’s not funny, Potter! What did you just do!”
“I… sucked your cock. And then you came untouched,” Potter said slowly, peering at Draco as if he was losing his mind.
“No! I mean, that… hissy thing you did!” Now Draco was hissing, and he was not appreciative of that fact.
Potter cocked his head as if thinking, and then his eyes widened. At least he had the grace to look properly ashamed. That’s right, no one tricked Draco Malfoy into coming prematurely without a reprimand!
“Oh, my god. I think, um,” Potter hesitated. Draco resisted the urge to shake the answer out of him. “I think I just spoke Parseltongue to you.”
Draco was appalled. “You mean to tell me you just used Parseltongue in our sexual coupling? As in, Voldemort’s language when he commanded his disgusting snake to kill people?”
Potter hanged his head. “Umm…”
“That,” Draco breathed, stepping into Potter’s personal space and knocking him to the floor, “has got to be the hottest thing you’d ever done!”
And before Potter knew it, Draco was kissing him as if trying to steal his breath away. With one hand Draco found Potter’s cock and began to jerk him off. “Say it again,” he whispered into Potter’s ear, listening to the man groan at the sensation.
And then… oh bloody hell Potter started to hiss, the noise vibrating against Draco’s lips, making him feel as if the sound was slithering all over his body, setting his nerves all tingling. Draco felt his cock stirring again.
Potter had the sexiest voice Draco had ever heard. It was low, deep, quiet. It lost breath when Draco twisted his hand, flickering his fingers across Potter’s cockhead, dipping down to play with his balls. Potter sounded like a bloody whore, his whore, and he didn’t seem to give a damn. Draco was so aroused by the broken, breathless hissing Potter was letting out that soon enough he found himself rutting against the man’s leg as he jerked him off to completion before coming again.
Tired and feeling wonderfully boneless, Draco collapsed on top of Potter, enjoying the feeling of the man’s firm chest and body heat under his.
“You just came twice,” Potter said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m just that good, huh?”
Draco didn’t have the energy to disagree, opting instead to turn his head and look out into the Hogwarts grounds through the balusters. “I can’t believe it’s our first date and the backdrop to the otherwise acceptable setting is Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. You know how I feel about pumpkins.” He was still a little irked that despite their appalling number, they still couldn’t finish the job of killing Weasley.
Potter laughed, his mouth pressed against Draco's cheek. “Oh come on, you got to admit it’s lovely.”
Draco said nothing. He supposed – grudgingly, of course – that Potter was right. The jack-o-lanterns, from this distance, looked like hundreds of orange lights illuminating the haunting beauty of Hogwarts grounds. Potter, in all honesty, couldn’t pick a more romantic setting if he wanted.
Draco glanced at Potter secretly, feeling as if Potter was trying to tell him something and not quite certain if he wanted to know what it was just yet.
Their second date, which happened immediately the next night, was filled with more surprises. Instead of a romantic dinner on top of the Astronomy Tower (now dubbed the Sex Tower), Potter took him flying. They raced across the field, past the lake and rushing along the edges of the mountains, exhilarated in the sensation of the wind blowing on their faces and the carefree laughter that tore through them as the water lapped at their feet. It was the most fun Draco had had in years, since mother taught him that he was too old to be taking amusement out of setting peacocks on fire.
Potter flew like he was the wind itself - fast, reckless, effortless. Eventually they slowed down until they were flying side by side under the bright, full moon. When Potter leaned in to kiss him, Draco didn’t even protest the man's sweat soaked shirt and the smell of a day worth of dirtiness before responding eagerly.
When they hit the ground Draco found he couldn’t stop himself from tugging at Potter’s clothes and touching him everywhere. They made it into the Slytherin Quidditch locker room, quickly divesting each other of their clothes with hasty fingers and clumsy impatience. Potter pulled Draco into the shower and turned on the faucet. Draco didn’t even flinch as goosebumps rose on his skin at the spray of cold water, too busy arching into Potter’s lovely mouth and hot body to notice.
Draco would never be able to get enough of the passion that Potter elicited in him, never knew he could be so madly obsessed with someone. He couldn’t get enough of Potter, not his wicked tongue, or his gorgeous tight body, and most certainly not his eager, large hands running over Draco's body as if they were desperate to map out his flesh. Draco had never thought someone could be so mad for him, and he had most definitely never believed that that someone could be Harry Potter. Talk about fate and irony.
When Potter turned him around and pressed him face first against the wall, Draco couldn’t help but moan at the sensation of the cold tiles against his chest and Potter’s firm, heated body sliding against his back, the water slicking their skin. Potter’s cock rubbed against his arse – his arse! – and Draco, to his ever increasing surprise, didn’t mind one bit. He pushed back against Potter’s cock, wanting that friction, wanting it to slide between his arsecheeks, finding his hole,taking him. Potter seemed to understand his need, his want, because he moaned into Draco’s ear, his breaths ragged, broken, and took Draco’s cock into his fist, pumping it in time with the insistent thrusts of his cock between Draco's cheeks.
Draco wanted to tell him, do it, do it now but Potter seemed so far gone, so aroused and desperate and content just to hump Draco’s arse, that he found he didn’t have the heart to push him. This is good, Draco thought, his head tilting back until it hit Potter’s shoulder, more than good. Potter kissed him at the area under his ear before sucking a hickey out of his pale skin, marking him as his own, for the world to see.
It wasn’t too long before Potter’s movements became erratic and uncontrolled. He hissed against Draco’s skin, his hand working Draco's cock faster. Draco’s voice mixed with Potter’s, their moans echoing in the empty Quidditch shower. Draco pushed back against Potter’s forward thrust, and soon Potter was coming all over his arse and back. The thought of Potter losing control, of himself with his spread legs wantonly offering everything to Potter, pushed him over the edge, and then Draco joined Potter in their post-orgasmic high.
Draco turned around, winding his arms around Potter’s waist and pulled him forward. Their bodies touched. Draco could feel Potter’s softening penis against his hip, could see the come on their skin mixing with the water before rushing down their legs to disappear down the drain.
Potter looked just as gorgeous to Draco wet and naked as he was any other time, and if Draco wasn’t so incoherent with post-coital bliss and too tired to think too hard about what his brain was telling him, he would have definitely panicked at the very thought.
When Potter got his breath back, he kissed Draco softly and slowly, whispering against his mouth, “Next time.”
Draco shuddered at the words, knowing exactly what Potter implied. Next time, they’d fuck.
Draco was both anxious and excited with anticipation, and it was the realization that he wanted Potter to do it as much as the man did that triggered him out of his denial.
Oh Merlin and Morgana, I really do want him.
Draco did not like the Gryffindor Tower. The colors were bright and gaudy – really, orange? – and the furniture looked as if they’d been bought at a thrift store. The couches weren’t leather, the fireplace was too large and too plain, and the walls had too many tapestries of wars and griffins for Draco’s liking. Blinded by such an atrocious sight, Draco was grateful he was sorted into Slytherin. Living in the horrid clash of colors would have driven him to insanity long ago.
It wasn’t as if Draco wanted to be here, either. When he came back to his dorm earlier, there was a note left on is bed. He really needed to straighten his wards. It would not do to have people sneaking notes into his bed like this.
Anyway, when Draco saw what the note had to say, he swiftly sprinted toward the Gryffindor Tower, composure and class be damned.
Once he entered the supposedly seventh year dorm, Draco stopped dead in his track.
There was Potter, tied to a chair, with Granger and elder Weasley flanking him on both side. Potter was struggling and making eyes at him, trying frantically to express his words unsuccessfully through his gag. The sight of Potter bound and shirtless made Draco’s cock twitch. It was definitely inappropriate timing, as Potter genuinely looked as if he was in trouble.
“What the hell is going on?” Draco exclaimed, waving the note in his hand. The content was as such: Come to Gryffindor Tower. We have your boyfriend. The password is Howl like a werewolf.
Granger crossed her arms. “We don’t like that Harry’s dating you, so we’re going to torture him,” she said matter-of-factly. Weasley, standing next to him, nodded grimly in agreement and held up a… feather.
Draco was appropriately confused. “What are you going to do? Tickle him to death?”
Weasley and Granger shared a meaningful look, and then Weasley shrugged. “That’s pretty much the gist, yeah.”
Draco was not amused. He had seen Voldemort used this method on a prisoner before. The man begged for death not three hours later. It was a fearsome torture technique.
“You can’t hurt him!” Draco exclaimed, forgetting the fact that he was supposed to act bored and uncaring toward Potter. In his defense, Potter looked really distracting bound half-naked. Plus, Draco needed him alive for sexual services.
Okay, so maybe he had some friendly feelings toward Potter, but no one should give him grief for it! The man worked hard to pleasure him daily, for gods’ sake!
Granger smiled, her eyes glinting. Draco saw Evil and was afraid. “Why wouldn’t we? It’s not like he means anything to you.”
Potter glared at Granger, jerking his leg in an attempt to kick her. All it did was making the chair rock precariously. Potter’s legs flailing in alarm as the chair wobbled would’ve been a funny sight if Draco wasn’t so busy trying to rationalize the situation.
“Of course I don’t like him!” Draco lied blatantly, his eyes automatically riveting to Potter and his body screaming for him to hex the stupid Gryffindors for putting Potter in such a position. No one was allowed to see Potter looking so sexy except for him!
When Weasley raised the feather threateningly, Draco bit his lip and tried not to show he cared. Weasley and Granger gave each other a look again. They really needed to stop talking without words. Really, it wasn’t as if they were an old married couple! And more importantly, it really unnerved him because he didn’t know what they were thinking!
He didn’t have to wonder for long. Their intention made itself clear when Weasley lowered the feather to Potter’s skin and tickled his stomach.
Potter’s face turned worrisomely red. Through his gag, Draco could tell he was laughing, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The tension in his taut body gave definition to Potter’s abdominal muscles. Draco was torn between appreciating the sight and killing the man responsible for Potter’s demise!
“Stop it!” Draco cried in distress.
“Why?” Granger challenged.
Draco said nothing. Weasley tickled Potter faster.
Draco broke. “Because he’s my boyfriend, damnit! I swear if you hurt him I will make sure you suffer a horrible, unimaginable death!”
Granger raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to need more reason than that before we hand Harry over to you, Malfoy.”
By this point Draco was ready to rip her bloody throat out. What was she trying to do?
“I get what you’re doing,” Draco gritted through his teeth, directing his Malfoy’s death glare at her.
Granger looked surprised. Weasley stopped tickling Potter and turned to stare incredulously him as if he couldn’t believe Draco finally caught on to their intention, either.
“You do?” Weasley asked dubiously.
“I’m not an idiot, Weasley,” Draco sneered superiorly. “You all clearly don’t want me to be happy. Your ultimate goal is to eliminate Potter from my life, effectively preventing me from having hot, dirty sex every night. Well, no one takes away things I love without suffering severe retribution!”
And with that, Draco flourished his wand and hexed Weasley unconscious. He was about to turn his wand to Granger when he was knocked to the ground by a large man.
Thomas’s face came into view. “Dude Malfoy, you’re quick with your wand, you know that?”
“Of course I am! I’m a Malfoy! Now let me go before I kill you too!” Draco struggled against Thomas’s freakishly strong body. Merlin what was the man made of, tons of iron?!
Eventually Thomas got off him, but before Draco could clamber to his feet and finish the job of killing Potter’s assailants, another body fell on top of him, knocking his breath away.
Potter was above him, his hands holding Draco’s head as he kissed him passionately. Draco’s protest was quickly forgotten when Potter plunged his tongue into Draco’s mouth and thrust once against his pelvis.
When they broke apart, Potter gazed into Draco’s eyes and he growled, “Everyone, out!”
After the door clicked shut, indicating that they were alone, Potter’s hands began to tear at his clothes.
“Potter, stop it!” Draco said unconvincingly, biting into Potter’s neck and sucking hard.
Draco moaned loudly when their naked chests came into contact. Potter took a hold of Draco’s hardening cock and stroked, all the while planting kisses all over his face, his neck, his chest. Draco’s hands tangled in Potter’s hair, his knees knocking against Potter as the man bit and suck at his nipples, his hand working Draco’s cock firmly, as if determined to break Draco apart.
“Draco, let me fuck you,” Potter groaned against his lips, his hips thrusting up, letting Draco know he had divested himself of his own pants without Draco’s knowing.
Potter’s words shot straight to his cock, and instinctively Draco spread his legs, allowing Potter more room between them.
“I want to fuck you,” Potter continued to whisper into Draco’s ears, his voice low, deep, like sin and fire. “I’ve dreamed about it, my cock in your arse, making you scream, making you beg for more.” Draco moaned helplessly. Fuck, Potter had got to be the only person on earth who could talk so dirty and not be embarrassed about it.
“I would make you beg.” Potter’s voice became soft, less dark, but equally intense. “I’ll find that spot inside you that you like so much, I’ll give it to you over and over again, until you can’t stand it anymore, but I won’t stop.”
“Oh fuck, Potter,” Draco keened, his hips restless and his fingers digging into Potter’s skin in an attempt to control himself. “Do it, please do it.” He was begging already and he didn’t give a flying fuck. No one had ever made him feel this way before, not Krum, or Wood, or that lovely French boy with a rumored wicked tongue. No one made him feel alive and broken and whole all at once, made him feel as if he was the only thing that mattered and if Potter didn’t have him, he’d die. It was powerful and wonderful to be so desired, to be so needed.
Potter sucked Draco down his throat and plunged a finger into his arse. Draco cried out at the unexpected assault on both fronts, toes curling, body trembling. Potter’s throat, oh gods, Potter was swallowing him, his throat alternating between contracting and relaxing around his cock. It was the strangest, greatest sensation.
And then Potter touched that spot that was quickly becoming his favorite thing, and Draco was sure he was going to explode.
“Don’t don’t, I’m going to come, Potter, now now now,” Draco urged, impatience and desperation evident in his voice. He felt helpless under the onslaught of pleasure, needing something more, if only Potter would just stop being a bloody tease and give it to him already!
“Draco,” Potter pulled off his cock with a drawn out moan, his breaths ragged and puffing against Draco’s neck. He was so hot, Potter was so hot, and it was quickly becoming difficult to think, to notice that Potter had just whispered a Protection Charm and slicked his hand with lube. The next time Potter breached him, he felt two fingers stretching his hole. The image of Potter bent over his body, fingers in his arse, mouth on his cock oh fucking hell on his arsehole made him incoherent with need. He needed Potter to hurry the fuck up, but the man went on playing with him, as slow as slow could be.
“Potter,” Draco said shakily, “I swear to Merlin and all magical things that if you don’t fuck me now I’ll pull off your dick and do it myself!”
“Draco, fuck,” Potter whined, sliding up Draco’s body and kissing him hard on his mouth. It was a testament to how far gone Draco was that he wasn’t even protesting the arse to mouth kiss. All he wanted was Potter’s cock in his arse, and it was frustrating and exciting all in a good way. Hell why was it so hard to think when Potter was around?
“Draco, look at me,” Potter said, voice tight with need. Draco opened his eyes and felt his heart bang against his chest. It was clear Draco was not the only one affected by their coupling. Potter’s flushed, sweating face and tightly wound body spoke volumes as to his impeccable control and barely held together temperament.
“Legs over my shoulders.” Draco lifted his legs, suddenly feeling all kinds of vulnerable and nervous. This arrangement, with his legs over Potter’s shoulders, the back of his thighs against the other man’s chest, made the perfect position for Potter’s cock to nestle against his arse. The sensation of touch increased tenfold, and Draco moaned, wanting but unexpectedly uneasy.
“Ready?” Potter asked, looking as nervous as Draco felt, and that lifted loads off his chest.
Draco nodded. He felt Potter’s cockhead against his arsehole, Potter's hand brushing against his arse. Draco stared at Potter, not wanting to miss the emotions that took over his expression. When he felt Potter breaching him, lube guiding the way, Draco had to force himself to relax. Fuck this was not as easy as he’d thought, he had yielded easily to Potter’s fingers, but his cock was entirely different matter.
“You’re tight,” Potter said, holding still before pushing further in. They were both trembling by the time Draco’s arse was flushed against Potter’s front.
“Ob-obviously,” Draco said shakily, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the thought of Potter, finally inside him. He couldn’t describe it, he was so aroused, and Potter’s cock in his arse didn’t dampen his pleasure, and that was as surprising as the fact that he found Potter so bloody gorgeous like this.
“I need to move,” Potter gritted out, his hands curling tighter around Draco’s arms, as if anchoring himself to the present, to stay in control. Draco wasn’t certain that if the position was reversed, he could have as much consideration for Potter, and his heart swelled fondly as he gazed at the other man.
“Then move, you bloody idiot,” Draco griped, but the passion in his voice belied his true feelings.
With agonizing slowness, Potter dragged his cock out of Draco’s arse and then pushed back in, his movements increasing in speed with every thrust. Soon they were both breathing and moaning loudly, their faces close enough for them to feel each other's breathless pants and brushes of lips against lips. Draco put a hand on his cock and began jerking himself off as Potter plunged into his body enthusiastically. Once he got used to the feeling of Potter inside him, his body began to quiver, hypersensitized by every little touch. Soon Draco was pushing up, meeting Potter’s thrust one by one. Potter’s eyes widened in surprise at Draco’s action, and then they mellowed into something inexplicable, bright with intense emotions.
By the time his pleasure peaked Draco was crying out uncontrollably and holding on to Potter tightly. When he came, it was with Potter’s hand on his cock and Potter’s cock fucking into his arse.
He almost screamed when his arse clenched and unclenched around Potter’s erection, making sparks burst behind his eyelids. He was so overwhelmed by his own release that he didn’t realize Potter was coming inside him, hips buckling helplessly.
They kissed as they came down from their orgasm. Draco’s arms slackened around Potter’s shoulders, his hands caressing Potter’s chest with absolutely gentleness. He felt boneless, sore, and wonderfully content. It was a feeling he was coming to identify with Potter. It should disturb him more to realize that, but Potter pulled out of his arse and placed another kiss on his lips, so any thoughts that Draco had would have to wait until another time.
Potter took hold of his legs, making as if to put them back to the ground, but he was sidetracked by the sight of Draco’s hole, slick with come. Draco suddenly felt shy at Potter’s unabashed staring, and gave him a little smack on the arm.
“Stop staring, it’s rude,” he said quietly, and then all of the sudden, they were both blushing and unable to look at each other in the eyes.
“Well, we missed the bed,” Draco commented lightly, wanting to break the mysterious awkwardness that filled the room.
Potter smiled his boyish, nervous smile and gave a little laugh. “Yeah, sorry.”
Potter stood up and held out his hand. Draco took it, pulling his eyes away from Potter’s cock in front of his face. Together, they walked to Potter’s bed and lay down. Somehow, they ended up curled around one another, arms and legs all tangled and Draco found with surprising alacrity he didn’t mind at all.
“I must say, Potter, your friends are as evil as mine. Bound and tickled until death? My father would wholeheartedly approve.”
“It’s pretty wicked of them, yeah,” Potter agreed, trailing his fingers up and down Draco’s back.
“It’s strange that they let you go so easily. Though I'm not surprised, I was quite fearsome.”
Potter only laughed in response.
Draco wanted to scream.
Potter had been avoiding him all day. All day. Draco didn’t understand why he wasn’t on his knees at Draco’s feet, simpering with reverence, especially after last night. Draco had, to put it mildly, blown Potter’s mind with his sexual prowess. If anything, Potter should be running after him, begging for more.
But of course, out of pure spite Draco was certain, Potter was instead avoiding him like the plague. That was incredibly insensitive of him, Draco thought sulkily. They had woken up this morning, and Potter, the annoying but inexplicably endearing idiot, had stopped Draco from fleeing in panic (he had just spent the night with Potter, in the Gryffindor Tower, both of which were probable causes to commence freaking out, he'd rather thought) by engaging him in another steamy session of sex that went on for at least two hours. By the time Potter pulled out of him and collapsed on the bed, Draco was so tired that he went right back to sleep. Neither of them left the Gryffindor Tower until noon. They had kissed before parting, with the Fat Lady cooing in the background, and Draco had walked back to his dorm in a daze, trying hard to keep what Pansy promptedly labeled upon seeing him a "silly grin" off his face.
Since then, he had attempted to talk to Potter, and Potter had been doing everything he could so that they wouldn’t come face to face. When Draco saw him walking to Muggle Studies and thought to join him, Potter had dashed as fast as he could down the corridor. Draco, upon seeing such a drastic reaction to his presence, did the only logical thing he could do: he ran after Potter. They both ended up out of breath and huffing by the time they got to Muggle Studies, where Potter determinedly ignored his multiple tries for attention. Draco decided that Potter was being ridiculous when the man refused to turn around and talk to him despite Draco having set his cloak on fire and singing his hair and burning Weasley's shirt sleeve in the process.
By the time dinner ended, Draco was getting just a little bit peeved. And by a little bit peeved, he meant I-will-kill-you-for-avoiding-me pissed off.
It really didn’t help the matter when McGonagall announced that the Halloween Ball would be taking place at a graveyard this year. Draco had completely forgotten about the Ball, considering the excitement of the past few days with Potter and all, and when she confirmed the location, practically everyone began squealing like a banshee, annoying Draco even more than he already was.
Nothing is going right today, Draco thought sullenly as he pushed through the chattering crowd, making his way toward Potter.
The crowd thinned away as Draco walked down the corridor. He was understandably feeling irritated that he lost Potter for what felt like the umpteenth time today. Draco’s fingers twitched; he was so mad at Potter for acting like a bastard, and not at all hurt by it. Potter was a bloody idiot, and Draco swore he’d hex his balls off when he saw him next for putting Draco through all this emotional turmoil. Honestly, no one ignored Draco Malfoy after one night of wild sex and got away with it! He was the only one allowed to do the ignoring, damnit!
When Draco saw Potter cornered by Justin Finch-Fletchley, his entire body boiled with a new level of fury. Before he knew it, Finch-Fletchley was unconscious on the floor and Potter was looking at him with nervousness and something else Draco was too mad to care about.
“You have nerves,” Draco began angrily, advancing on Potter, “to ignore me for the entire day, you know that? And then I found you here, shacking up with Finch-Fletchley. Really, Potter? Have you not heard of his lack of stamina in bed, and his shockingly underwhelming penis size–“
Draco didn’t get to finish his angry ramble, because by the time he reached Potter, the man had taken the liberty to grab his arm and pull him into the nearest alcove. Draco, clearly, was so appalled at Potter’s gall that he let him without protesting.
The heavy curtain didn’t have time to fall back to position before Potter pushed him against the wall and kissed him hungrily.
“Couldn’t stop – thinking about this – all day – wanted so bad to touch you –“ Potter said between kisses, hands roaming the length of Draco's body. Draco automatically, unthinkingly returned his passionate groping. Damn Potter and his irresistible kisses. He knew Draco couldn’t be angry at him when he kept doing – ooohh – that with his tongue.
Potter’s fingers deftly undid his pants. Draco gasped when he felt Potter’s hard length rub against his own. Moaning, Draco curled his hand around both their cocks, slightly startled when Potter put his own hand over Draco’s. Soon they were both thrusting, groaning, their breaths coming out in short, broken gasps. Their voices rose in the darkness, and Draco bit into Potter’s neck to stop himself from screaming and alerting the castle as to what he was up to.
Potter pushed Draco against the wall hard, body pressing into his. When he came, he nudged Draco’s head up and kissed him without preamble, and the passion in that kiss told Draco just exactly how he felt about Draco. It propelled him over edge, splattering come all over their hands.
Once they had gotten their breaths back, Potter rested his forehead against his, whispering quietly, “I couldn’t be around you when all I wanted was to push you to the nearest wall and fuck you senseless. It took all my control to just sit through classes with you and not rip out your clothes.”
At such honest confession, Draco couldn’t help but be flattered. Potter just knew exactly what to say to soothe his ego, didn’t he?
"What the hell was Finch-Fletchley doing feeling you up like that?" Draco said accusingly.
"He wanted to go to the ball with me," Potter explained, his eyes turning dark. "I'd have hexed him if you didn't get to it first."
Slightly mollified, Draco tucked their cocks back into their respective confinement and cast a Cleaning Charm over both of them.
“I suppose you have a forgivable excuse for avoiding me all day,” Draco said decidedly. “But the next time you do that to me, I will hex your balls off and feed them to the birds, understand?”
Potter laughed quietly, his breath ghosting against Draco's mouth. “Loud and clear.”
After spending a few seconds of gazing at one another, having a moment that Pansy would describe as romantic eye-fucking but Draco knew he was too manly to do such a silly romance novel-y thing, Potter surprised Draco by reaching out and grabbing a hold of his hand.
“So, you want to go to the Halloween Ball with me?”
The Daily Prophet got news of their relationship. Draco knew it would happen. He had anticipated a lot of grief from Potter’s fanclub, and did indeed suffer at their hands after the whole kissing Potter in the Great Hall incident. Draco had thought, hoped that that was the end of that, but unfortunately, he didn’t realize how far Potter’s fan club extended.
After the disastrous episode with the poisonous mails and Howlers at breakfast, even Pansy was sympathetic toward his cause. She had stayed with him in the infirmary while Madame Pomfrey patched up his stung hands. Needless to say, Draco did not enjoy having Bubotuber pus eating away at his skin. By the time the nurse was finished with him, Draco was extremely irritated. He was convinced that it was all Potter’s fault – since when was it not? – and had thrown sharp and heavy objects at the poor boy when he came by to visit.
Zabini tried to cheer him up when he got back to Slytherin, offering to accompany him to buy an outfit for the upcoming Ball. Thinking of the Ball made him mad at Potter, too. What sort of uneducated troll asked his partner to a ball two days before the event? And without a proper formal invitation! That was just bad form. His mother would have wrinkled her nose in distaste, which was exactly what Draco did when Potter asked him. But well, sex had a way of making him very agreeable, and Potter, the sly bastard, knew just how to use it to his advantage. Draco suspected the man was more Slytherin than he let on.
Draco didn’t have time to think about Potter now. He had to go to Hogsmeade and hopefully find a costume worthy of his interest. It had to be sexy, scary, and overall incredible enough to turn heads at the Ball. He would make Potter see how lucky he was to have Draco in his arms, and of course, scare other people away from his boyfriend. Not that he loved Potter or anything sappy like that, but Draco didn’t share well.
So with that thought Draco stepped out of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheeze, holding up his bag dubiously. George Weasley had promised him that the outfit would leave Potter drooling and wanting more. Draco decided to take his word for it; after all, he probably knew Potter better than him, and Draco really wanted to mesmerize Potter so that the man would be amendable to some pre-date sex.
Unfortunately for Draco, he hadn’t even taken more than dozen steps away from the shop when he was accosted by a blurring figure. Knocked to the ground, Draco was about to whip out his wand when all words died on his lips.
The person who had attacked him was not human.
He was a vampire.
Draco stifled a scream. The street was quiet, and empty, shadowed by the gray sky. There was no soul around except fot Draco and the vampire who was baring his very sharp fangs at him. Granted, the vampire’s body was smattered with glitter (what the fuck was that all about?), and he looked like a young emo teenager who spent most his life skulking in a corner of the room and stalking those he was infatuated with, but those fangs were not a joke.
“Why the hell are you attacking me?” Draco shouted, blinking away the glitter that was falling into his eyes. Forget the teeth, the glitter would cause irreversible damage to his eyes before anything else could happen.
“You are the Malfoy boy, are you not?” The vampire said, his red eyes gleaming. “I do not like the idea of you dating the young hero of the wizarding world.”
Draco could not believe his ears. The vampire had a crush on Potter? “And you think hurting me is going to stop us from dating?” Draco retorted, so angry that he forgot his life was presently in jeopardy.
“No,” the vampire replied wickedly, leaning close. Draco swore he smelled blood. “But killing you will.”
Draco screamed. He was not going have his life sucked out of him here where no one would know. He was already too pale to be turned. And sure, having all the strengths of a vampire would be cool, but walking in the darkness and eating nothing but blood would not do much for his complexion, not that that would be a problem once he was dead. Why the younger girls (and some boys) thought being a vampire was sexy was beyond him. Just look at this hideous thing in front of him! His sense of style and make-up was utterly offensive to the eyes.
This was, without a doubt, all Potter’s fault.
As it often did, thinking of Potter made Draco mad, and before he knew it, he had wiggled one hand out from under the vampire’s inhuman grip, grabbed his wand, and jabbed it hard in the vampire’s eye.
“AHHH MY EYE!” The vampire cried, springing away from Draco and holding a hand up to his bleeding eye.
“That’s right, bitch, take that!” Draco shouted, throwing his wand away and jumping on the vampire. “No one threatens a Malfoy and gets away with it!”
His father had always emphasized the importance of fighting in the proper, gentlemanly way, but Draco was too furious to see straight. He could tear this idiot apart with his bare hands if given just a few minutes.
So it was a shame that he was dragged away from the unconscious body underneath him, fighting and screaming all the while. “Let me go! That bitch is going down!”
“Alright, Draco! Calm down, that’s not a real vampire!” Someone yelled through his fits.
Draco stopped struggling, turning around to look at Potter in disbelief.
“That’s Lee Jordan,” Potter explained. “I think he was trying to scare you, and I think you killed him.”
Draco punched Potter.
“Ow, what the hell is that for!” Potter cried, hand flying to his rapidly swelling face.
“That’s for being an idiot!” Draco yelled back. “I told you nothing good would come out of me dating you, and you promised you’d keep your insane fan club away from me, but look what happened!”
Potter was staring at him, wide eyed. Draco didn’t care if he was being hysterical, or that his hair was probably a mess from all the excitement, all he wanted was to bloody murder Potter, who was responsible for all the unnecessary stress. Really, just this morning, he discovered a zit near his neck! A zit! What a bloody nightmare.
“Okay, Draco, Draco shh,” Potter said softly, pulling a struggling Draco into his arms.
“I bloody hate you, you idiot,” Draco muttered sulkily. He hated Potter for making him unable to hate him, for putting his arms around Draco and making him feel oddly safe, for running his hands up and down his back soothingly. He hated Potter for being so sweet, for kissing him as if he was the most wonderful thing on earth.
“I’m sorry,” Potter whispered, his lips moving against the corner of Draco’s lips. “I’ll fix it, I promise.”
“You better,” Draco grumbled, finally appeased. Potter smiled at him, his expression bright like the sun.
“Let’s go back to Hogwarts. I’ll take you to the kitchen for some hot chocolate,” Potter said, taking a hold of Draco’s hand.
With an offer like that, how could Draco refuse?
This was written and completed ages ago for hd_seasons's halloween fest. Thanks for sticking around while I uploaded all 13 parts, and hopefully you guys enjoyed it :)
Draco had a dream.
In his dream, he was lying in bed with Potter after they’d untangled after another fantastic shag. He had looked Potter in the eyes and told him he loved him.
Draco had woken up screaming in horror. It had not been one of his best mornings – Nott attempted to jump into bed with him again – and just as he suspected, the day didn’t fare any better.
At breakfast, he found out that his parents had agreed to chaperone at the ball tonight. Mother waved at him from her spot at the faculty table, while father stared at him as if he’d like nothing more than to Obliviate the thought of Draco and Potter together out of his mind.
That wasn’t likely to happen once the owls began arriving with their mails. The Daily Prophet was delivered, and then all eyes were on him.
His mother was smiling sweetly and holding up the newspaper, while his father turned an alarming shade of red as he choked on a piece of bacon.
Feeling a sense of foreboding, Draco picked up the newspaper. On the front page was a picture of him and Potter embracing yesterday at Hogsmeade, taken by Colin Creevey. Draco was not amused at how he appeared in the picture. The rumpled hair was not an appropriate look to don in public! He would’ve hexed Creevey if he wasn’t so riveted by the article next to the photo.
The headline read Harry Potter Speaks Out About His Relationship With The Son Of An Ex-Death Eater, and underneath was an extensive dedication to the merits of Harry Potter blah blah blah but underneath that was a short snippet of how he and Potter got together. Most importantly, and this was the part that made him feel both horrified (when he told Potter to fix it, he did not meanthis) and charmed, they quoted Potter saying, “I love Draco Malfoy, and I will not hesitate to ruin anyone who dares to lay a hand on him.”
All of the sudden, his dream came rushing back – of Potter gazing at him, of Draco whispering I love you – and Draco jumped up to his feet, panicked.
“No I don’t!” Draco cried, startling those who had yet to stop staring at him. At that moment the double door opened and Potter walked in, pausing in mid step when he realized people were staring at him and Draco.
Draco didn’t know what he was going to do, feeling suddenly and inexplicably shy, but Potter decided for him. The man scanned the Great Hall until his eyes fell on the Slytherin table, and with purposeful strides he walked toward Draco and past him.
Draco turned around just in time to find that Potter had grabbed Nott and pinned him to the table. Potter made a fearsome sight, looming over Nott, his teeth bare, eyes like lightning. Draco swallowed, feeling his cock stir in his pants.
“If you ever try to touch Draco ever again, I will personally make sure you suffer long and hard for the rest of your short-lived, pathetic life. Do you understand me?” Potter snarled. Draco was mesmerized at the way Nott cowered under him, practically quaking in fear.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Draco saw Pansy smirking knowingly.
“Pansy, did you have anything to do with this?” Draco murmured inconspicuously.
Pansy gave him a look through her thick lashes and her smirk widened. “I got sick of listening to you shrieking every morning for him to get out. A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know.”
Draco didn’t have time to reply to her. Potter caught his attention again when he shook Nott and growled, “Do. You. Get. It?”
Nott nodded vigorously. If his neck moved any faster, Draco feared it was going to break.
When Potter was satisfied by Nott’s sincerity, he let go of him with a sneer and turned to Draco, smiling like he'd just seen the sun for the first time in ages. Draco was actually nervous at how quick Potter’s expression went from I’m-a-badass to I'm-an-innocent-young-teenager-in-love.
“Hey, Draco,” Potter said softly, gazing at him with adoration apparent in his eyes. The way he looked at Draco never failed to make him weak in the knees. “You want to eat breakfast together?”
The way the sunlight sneaked through the windows reminded Draco of the Potter in his dream, naked, with the golden light making him look like something from a fairytale book.
Mortified at his thoughts, Draco turned and fled.
Draco stared at himself in the mirror. The black body suit was making it really hot and difficult to breathe. But he had to admit, he did look incredible, even without all the gushing compliments his mirror was dishing out. The black material clung to his body in all the right places, accentuating his trimmed waist, his compact chest, abdomen, and legs that went on as if forever. There was no way anyone was going to be able to resist him now, especially not after they saw his arse.
Blaise burst into his room, looking dashing in his Prince Charming suit. “Draco, you bloody ponce, are you done – oh holy shit!”
Draco smirked, doing a one eighty for Blaise.
“You’re… in a cat suit,” Blaise said faintly.
“Be rendered speechless by my looks, Zabini, for I am that hot,” Draco said smugly.
Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. “You do realize your outfit leaves very little to the imagination, don’t you?”
Draco cackled. “Don’t be jealous, Blaise, it’s very unbecoming. Now let us grace the world with our dazzling presence!”
Blaise just gave him a look before holding the door for him. Draco met up with Pansy, dressed as one of the Weird Sisters. She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled secretly. He didn’t have time for secretive smiles. He was already one hour late, the perfect time to make an impressionable entrance. Best not to deprive the world of his wondrous company for any longer.
The party was on full blast by the time Draco got to the graveyard near the lake. The decorations were epic. The ghosts looked even more bloody and frightening than usual, having taken to chase after first years screeching for their souls. Peeves was there, raising havoc as always, though his tricks had more humor in them than malice. Draco wasn’t surprised; Peeves had always loved Halloween. It was the one time people could feel safe having him throw things at them without fearing for the loss of body parts or of dropping to the floor in a dead faint.
Draco had agreed to meet up with Potter at the graveyard, He was feeling strangely uncomfortable about seeing him tonight. There was something about that silly dream that haunted him, making his heart flutter and his chest tight. Draco didn’t know what that meant, exactly, and it unnerved him.
“Malfoy!” Granger called, running after him. Pansy eyed her with distaste; Granger had come as the other Weird Sister. Draco felt like something was going to go down tonight, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“What, Granger?” Draco asked exasperatedly. He didn’t have time to deal with her, and he didn’t particularly want to either, especially after she tied Potter up and made him say silly things.
“Harry’s waiting for you behind the willow tree,” Granger said breathlessly, and then paused. “You look hot. And inappropriate.”
Draco smirked. “Of course I look hot, now if you excuse me.”
Draco left his friends to find Potter, walking past a Weasley dressed as a Quidditch player from the Chudley Cannons. He gave Draco a grin and two thumbs-up. Draco returned it with a sneer, and moved onward, passing quite a few eccentric costumes before he was waylaid by his parents, appearing to be the undead bride and groom.
“Draco,” his mother exclaimed, “You look just absolutely stunning. I dressed up as a cat once for Halloween, remember that night, Lucius love?”
The way his mother said ‘that night’ made Draco shudder violently. “What do you want, mother?” He said hastily before his father could reply.
“Well, your father has something to say to you,” his mother said, giving father an encouraging nudge.
Lucius looked as if he had swallowed a rather large fruit and was having difficulty dislodging it far enough to speak.
“Lucius,” Narcissa said softly.
Lucius cleared his throat. “Draco, I would like to extend my approval to your choice of… love partner.”
Draco stared at him as if he was missing a head. “What?”
Lucius looked distinctly uncomfortable in his bloody, white suit. “I figure, anyone who can instill fear so early in the morning can’t be as bad as I imagine, even if that person is Potter. So, let’s just leave it at that.” And we shall never speak of it ever again, Lucius implied in his meaningful look.
“Okay…” Draco said slowly, still a little blind-sided by his father’s easy approval. He suspected mother’s involvement, but she was beaming so happily that he didn’t have the heart to ask. Besides, what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him, especially when it concerned his mother. The woman was a fearsome character in her own right, despite appearing so willowy and genteel. He had heard stories, after all.
They waved him off, and Draco continued on his path littered with human shrieking skulls until he found the willow tree, off in a dark corner by the lake, away from all the noises and people. It was lit by floating jack-o-lanterns, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the tree and lighting the lake in a soft glow.
When he saw Potter, Draco’s jaw dropped.
“Hey,” Potter said, grinning when he saw Draco.
“Oh for the love of all things frightful please tell me I’m dreaming,” Draco said faintly.
Potter was wearing nothing.
Alright, so he wasn’t wearing nothing, but he might as well be. The only thing Potter had on was a cut out cartboard painted as the sun on the top of his head and very tight, very shiny golden pants.Short golden pants.
“What are you wearing?” Draco exclaimed, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to Potter’s skin, his muscled flesh, and the very distinct outline of his impressive cock.
“Take a guess,” Potter said, spreading out his arms and smiling broadly.
Draco eyed him critically. “Oh bloody hell,” he groaned, realization dawning. “Don’t tell me…”
“I’m the Golden Boy,” Harry said, bursting out in laughter.
“That is so cliché I don’t even know where to start.”
“Ron came up with it,” Harry said, shrugging. He eased off the tree and came toward him. “By the way, you look insanely sexy.”
Potter tugged at his furry ear, leaning close until Draco could feel his breath on his skin. “I especially like the cat ears.” Potter’s hands slid around his waist and down to his arse. “And the tail.”
Draco involuntarily shivered at Potter’s lovely low voice, raising his arms to grab a hold of Potter’s arms.
“I thought you might,” Draco said, affecting nonchalance. “So, why are we here and not dancing to the horrid screeching they claim to be music?”
“Because I didn’t want to share you tonight,” Potter said quietly. “Especially not after seeing you in this.”
Draco bit back a groan. “Possessive much, Potter?”
Harry grinned. “You betcha.” Planting a sloppy kiss on Draco’s lips, he added, “So when will you start calling me Harry? After all the nightly shagging, I’d think it’s about time.”
“Hmpph,” Draco said vaguely, his eyes falling to the bottle of wine and the basket of food spread on top of a picnic blanket. The thought of calling Potter Harry made him feel as if he was stepping across a line his heart wasn’t prepared for. It felt… scary.
“Come on,” Harry said, tugging Draco’s hand toward the laid out picnic. “I got your favorite food.”
Over the past two weeks Potter had demonstrated how knowledgeable he was about Draco’s habits and preferences. Draco found this slightly disturbing and flattering all at once. Potter clearly had stalking tendencies if he knew Draco liked to eat toast on odd days and yogurt on even days for breakfast, and that Draco spent every Friday night in the Prefect bathroom for two hours for an extensive personal grooming session. But then again, as Pansy pointed out during what she dubbed ‘bonding time’, Draco apparently obsessed over Potter as much in return. But truly, who could not notice Potter had an annoying habit of gnawing the tip of his quilt while he took notes, or that he had a little dimple on his left cheek whenever he let out one of those rare, half-smiles. Really, everyone must have noticed how Potter always picked out the onions in his food and sneaked a piece of treacle tart out of the Great Hall every time they had it for dinner.
“Your parents talked to me today,” Potter said as he opened the bottle of wine and poured them both a glass. Draco recognized the brand and wondered if his parents had anything to do with Potter’s choice.
“What for?” Draco asked, still ambivalent on his feelings regarding his parents’ easy acceptance of Potter’s presence in their lives, especially when not over a year ago they were standing on the battlefield shooting sparks and dead set on killing one another.
“They wanted to invite me over for the holidays,” Potter said casually, setting out the food. Draco choked on his wine.
“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, patting his back. “You okay?”
Draco waved him away. “Fine,” he wheezed. “Do you want to?”
Potter gave him a meaningful look that Draco didn’t quite understand. “Do you want me to?”
Yes. “Considering how mother takes it personally when people say no to her, I’d say it would be in your personal wellbeing to accept their invitation,” Draco answered. Beating around the bush was his forte, and he was on a roll tonight.
Potter’s gaze was unnerving. Draco looked away. “I like crème brulee,” he stated when he saw what Potter had placed in front of him.
“I know,” he said simply, handing Draco a spoon.
Silence fell upon them. In the distance, music played as if through a window. From ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Mad Morgane mourn us! The latest song from the Weird Sisters echoed, miserable like a funeral parade.
Draco was content to sit and watch the shifting shadows danced in the airborne lights. There was a beauty in this frightfully decorated night that Draco appreciated, regardless of the bloody ghosts breezing past them now and then, whining for lost lives. Draco had to give it to them, they certainly knew how to play the parts of pitiful and pathetic.
When Draco turned back to Potter, bored by the prancing ghosts, his heart almost stopped.
Potter was licking the whipped cream off his fingers. Whipped cream off his fingers. When Potter flicked his eyes toward Draco, green and dark and seductive, Draco could have sworn he felt Potter’s tongue on his skin. His cock was instantly at attention.
“Draco… are you okay?” Potter asked, eyeing Draco nervously. “You’re looking at me sort of… hungrily.”
Draco didn’t even bother to reply. He pounced.
“Eep!” Potter squealed, falling backward with Draco on top of him, kissing him as if he would love nothing more than to eat Potter alive. Potter’s skin was feverish under his needy fingers, and his mouth was as wonderfully hot.
“Fucking suit –“ Potter groaned in frustration while Draco ran his hands down Potter’s chest to grab his cock through the stretchy pants. “Oh bloody hell get it off–“
Draco growled and sat up. With a wave of his wand, the suit vanished, leaving him gloriously naked. Potter stared at him, eyes shining with heat and admiration. Draco would never know how gorgeous he looked in Potter’s eyes, straddling him, his body illuminated by lights and shadows, cock red and hard, balls pressed again his abdomen. The places that they touched were electric.
In a heartbeat Potter had Draco on his back, mouth set on ravishing him. Draco twisted his hands in Potter’s hair, impatiently pulling the stupid headband off his head. He wrapped his legs around Potter’s waist, urgently trying to get some friction on his throbbing cock, but Potter pushed him down, forcing him to stay still. Draco glared at him, hating the fact that his attempt to derive some pleasure was thwarted by the very source that got him so fucking aroused in the first place.
“No,” Potter growled. “Not yet.”
Draco couldn’t believe it, he whimpered. There was a wildness to Potter’s expression, as if it was causing him physically pain to hold back. Draco didn’t want him to, he wanted Potter to lose control and fuck him already.
Draco wrapped his hand around Potter’s cock, arching up and meeting Potter’s heated gaze with one of his own. “Fuck me,” he snarled, biting Potter’s lower lip. “Stop being a bloody Gryffindor and fucking do it!”
Potter moaned, loud and desperate. He took Draco’s words to heart and the next time he touched Draco, it was rough, hard, fingers digging into flesh and body pressing hard against body. Draco couldn’t get enough of the feel of Potter, all smooth skin and lean muscles, couldn’t get enough of the sight of him, lost in the passion, blinded by his need. And all for him. His heart was ready to burst at the thought.
And then Potter took him into his mouth, effectively shutting down his brain function and leaving a clear path for pleasure to take over. Potter looked so hot, with his mouth around Draco’s cock, sucking as if he was made for it. Draco spread his legs and thrust his hips up to meet Potter’s downward motion, twitching violently when Potter squeezed his balls and moved lower.
He heard a whispered incantation, and then there it was, the slick slide of Potter’s fingers against his opening, seeking entrance.
“Hold up your legs, Draco,” Potter commanded, and it was the way he said it, no-nonsense and dominating, that got Draco to pull his legs up to his chest, exposing himself to Potter.
Draco closed his eyes, biting his lip when he felt the first of Potter’s finger pushing in past the ring of muscles, felt it in his arse, probing, searching. Before Draco could yell at him to hurry the fuck up, Potter sucked him down to his throat and curled his finger right at the place where he loved, setting every nerve ending on fire. His entire body arched off the ground, his hands slipping off his legs helplessly.
“Shit,” Potter said hoarsely, pulling off his cock. “You have no idea how you look, Draco… gods…”
Draco couldn’t ask him what he meant by that, because Potter had another finger inside him, this time more urgently, and much faster. He wanted to tell Potter to stop playing around, that he was about to come and Potter hadn’t even gotten his cock inside him yet (a serious crime, in his opinion), but then Potter began wanking him and added another finger inside his arse, and all protests slipped his mind.
Shit, there were three fingers in him. They felt thick, rough, deep. Draco was breathing harshly, his hands gripping at the blanket in hope to hold out until Potter did what he needed to do instead of playing with his arse like it was the most fantastic thing on earth (which it undoubtedly was, but this was not the time to dwell on that).
“Hurry,” Draco urged, his voice wrecked, desperate. Potter sensed his need – took him long enough – and rose up on his knees.
“Turn over,” Potter whispered, hands on Draco’s hips. Draco readily complied, wanting nothing more than for Potter to stop dilly-dallying and proceed to satisfy Draco’s desire.
Once Draco was lying on his front, he realized how vulnerable this position placed him in. It left Potter to watch the expanse of his back, the swell of his undulating arse without him knowing. Potter could do anything and Draco would only be able to feel, not see. The knowledge made him shiver in anticipation.
Soon enough, he felt Potter’s weight on top of him and his hands, pulling Draco’s legs apart.
“Ready?” Potter whispered into his ear, making his heart flutter like a little bird. He felt the man’s hard length against his cleft, and had to bite his lip to stop himself from pushing back onto Potter’s cock. The man was irritatingly slow.
With one hand Draco reached back and placed it on Potter’s arse cheek. “Do it,” he murmured, neck stretched, arse raised, wanting Potter to get the hint.
He did. Without warning he pushed into Draco, and the sensation made them both groan out loud. For a short moment they held still, with Draco panting at the knowledge that Potter was balls deep inside him, and Potter breathing loudly, his breaths dampening the back of Draco’s neck. And then, when Potter couldn’t stand it anymore, he began fucking him, setting the pace, slowly at first, intending to let Draco get used to having a cock in his body.
Draco rested his head against Potter’s shoulder, allowing himself to adjust to Potter’s length, and though Draco was eager for it, the sensation was still overwhelming. His arse clenched uncontrollably around Potter, and the sounds the man made were as arousing as the hard cock inside him.
“I can’t, Draco, fuck,” Potter groaned, thrusting hard and deep. Draco almost screamed at the sudden movement that propelled them both forward. Potter did it again, driving into Draco as if determined to make him feel it for days to come. He wouldn’t dream of telling Potter, but he loved the feeling of the other man inside him, of his cock sliding in and out, stabbing that particular spot that never failed to push him closer to the edge. Potter was very good at this, getting Draco hot and bothered, getting Draco off. With one hand Potter pulled Draco up a little, allowing space for his other hand to find Draco’s cock. The double stimulation made Draco twitch in surprise, turning him on so badly and making him so desperate for more.
“Harder,” Draco begged, lifting up even more so that he could meet Potter half-way. The wantonness in his gesture made Potter tighten his hold on Draco’s hips – he was going to be bruised tomorrow, he just knew it – and drive in harder, deeper, faster. They were practically thrown forward with every rough thrust Potter gave, hunched half way off the blanket. The glass of wine was knocked over when Draco reacted to a particularly accurate shove of Potter’s cock, one arm slipping from its grip on the blanket.
“Draco, close,” Potter warned, clearly too far gone to even complete simple sentences. Draco wasn’t so better off, either. He was so horny he didn’t even care that he was alternating between grinding into Potter’s fist and ramming back onto his thick cock, torn between two torturous pleasure points. He couldn’t hold on any longer, not if Potter kept up with his aggressive thrusting and pulling.
When Potter came, he came with an unrestrained shout, both his hands on Draco’s bony hips, gripping tightly. He held still, his pelvis flushed against Draco’s arse, while his cock pulsed inside Draco. At the warm sensation that flooded his inside, Draco let out a shameless moan, twisting uselessly under Potter’s steadfast hold. When the man came down from his orgasm, Draco gave a startled shout as Potter slid his hand over his cock and squeezed. Before Draco could register what was happening, Potter had flipped him over, mouth sealing over his cock and fingers stuffed in his arse.
Now Draco did scream as cock spurted thick ropes of come. Potter was relentless; he didn’t stop sucking until Draco’s cock had softened, and his fingers never stopped their rubbing until Draco began to moan helplessly and push at his head, too weak to move.
“Too much,” Draco whined breathlessly, the overstimulation making his arse spasm almost painfully. Potter eventually came up for air, slithering up his body, and Draco gasped quietly at the sparks that lit up his nerves where they touched. Their lips met, and Draco was certain his heart was going to jump out of his chest at the tenderness Potter put into their kiss.
There was a strange softness in Potter’s expression as he gazed at Draco, making him feel fluttery feelings, making him want. He hated that Potter was so gentle when he brushed Draco’s hair out of his eyes and kissed his temple, that he looked at Draco as if he was the greatest person to ever exist, like he couldn’t imagine that he was lucky enough to be with him, Draco Malfoy.
Potter’s feelings for him were overwhelming, they took hold of Draco’s heart and in turn, made Draco feel things. Things that he had no words for, but suspected, from the familiar way they settled in his chest, that perhaps these emotions might not be as strange as he believed.
It was a conflicting thought, and Draco’s head hurt trying to rationalize it out.
But what if it’s all just a game?
Everything Potter’s done up to this point should prove that he’s not playing around.
Yet everything in our past has the potential to ruin our future.
“Sorry we didn’t get to a bed again,” Potter apologized, his lips against Draco’s throat, one arm flung across his chest. “Good thing I casted a Notice-Me-Not Charm, huh?”
Oh fuck it, Draco thought exasperatedly, tired and annoyed at the way the voices in his head were yelling at one another.
Turning to Potter, Draco curled a hand around his neck and leaned close.
“Harry,” Draco said, the name foreign on his tongue. Potter stared at him as if he couldn’t believe what Draco had just said. Draco swallowed, this was harder to say than he’d ever imagined, but he had to plunge on. He wasn’t blind, every day that passed that he evaded Potter’s prodding gaze and expectant questions was another day that Potter would walk away, looking hurt and uncertain, like Draco had taken a knife and stabbed him in the heart or something. It was admittedly not pleasant for him to watch Potter like that.
“Harry,” he repeated. “I want you to come for the holidays.” Draco kissed him softly on his lips, dimly aware that it was the first time he had initiated anything so tender between them. “I want you to spend the holidays with me.”
Potter understood his implications, if the light that lit up his face was any indication. Quick as a cat Potter grabbed him tightly as he devoured Draco’s mouth, his happiness seeming to seep out from every pore on his body.
When they broke apart, both were flushed and breathless. Potter was grinning at him, his cock hard again and nudging insistently against Draco's thigh.
“Of course,” Potter replied, his eyes shining with affection as he brushed his fingers across Draco’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more.”
Draco felt his face break into a silly smile. Potter kissed it, matching his curved lips with a sappy smile of his own.
Potter’s hand found Draco’s hardening cock, and slyly he murmured against Draco's mouth. “You up for another go?”
Draco, overcome by the unexpected joy that seemed to have taken over his entire being, could only kiss Potter back in reply.