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The lunchroom buzzed with chatter, the clinking of plates and cups forming a symphony of everyday life at Hogwarts. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, absentmindedly prodding his mashed potatoes as Ron and Hermione discussed their latest points for the upcoming exams. He wasn't really paying attention; his mind felt foggy after the fight with Draco the day before. The words they exchanged lingered like an unhealed bruise, sharp and tender.
“Harry?” A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see Katie Bell standing across the table, her expression soft yet nervous. “Can I have a moment?”
“Of course,” Harry said, pushing his plate aside and standing up. They stepped a few paces away from the table to a quieter corner. Katie’s eyes darted around before settling on him.
“I… I just wanted to thank you,” she began, her voice wavering slightly. “For what you did when I… when I was possessed. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked down at her hands.
“Katie, you don’t have to thank me,” Harry replied, his tone gentle. “You went through something awful, and I was just… there. Anyone would have done the same.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, Harry, not anyone. You. You were brave enough to step in. And I… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For all of it. For what happened because of that cursed necklace, I never should’ve touched it.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said firmly, meeting her eyes. “You didn’t know. None of us did.”
Their conversation was cut short by the sound of footsteps, sharp and purposeful. Harry turned his head and immediately recognized the pale blond figure striding into the lunchroom. Draco Malfoy’s expression was unreadable, but his silver eyes locked onto Harry and Katie, narrowing slightly.
Harry’s stomach twisted. The fight from the day before came rushing back in vivid detail, Draco’s flushed face, his voice laced with anger, the words that neither of them really meant. Draco had been on edge, guilt shadowing his every move, but instead of explaining, he’d lashed out. Harry had tried to understand, but Draco’s defenses were a fortress he hadn’t yet figured out how to breach.
Now, Draco’s gaze flicked between Harry and Katie, and for a moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped. Harry saw it, a flash of something raw and unguarded: jealousy. The realization hit him like a hex, but it took a few more seconds for the dots to connect in his mind.
Draco turned abruptly, his blond hair whipping around as he stalked out of the room. The doors swung shut with a resounding thud.
“Harry?” Katie’s voice pulled him back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, though his voice sounded distant even to his own ears. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Katie. I… I’ll catch you later.”
He didn’t wait for her reply. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, propelling him out of the lunchroom and into the corridor beyond. He spotted Draco’s retreating figure rounding a corner and quickened his pace.
“Draco!” Harry called out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Draco hesitated but didn’t stop.
“Draco, wait!”
The blond kept walking, making a sharp turn, walking past the caged canary he’d recently replaced.
Malfoy often felt like that tiny canary, trapped in a cage, with nobody looking his way, barely caring to provide him with food or water when he was on the brink of death. He hated how many times he’d emptied that cage, only to stuff it with a new bird.
He turned once more as he neared the lavatories. He stalked towards the basin, his hands gripping the porcelain as his head hung limp, tears already streaming down his pale cheeks.
Harry caught up just in time to see Draco’s shoulders trembling slightly. He stepped into the room and positioned himself firmly in front of the door, his arms crossed.
“You’re not running this time,” Harry said, his voice steady but low. “I’ve had enough of this, Draco. What’s going on with you?”
Draco’s head snapped up, his red-rimmed eyes filled with defiance. “Go away, Potter,” he snapped, his voice cracking despite his best efforts. “I don’t need your pity.”
“This isn’t pity,” Harry shot back, his tone softening as he took a cautious step closer. “I’m worried about you, Birdie.”
Draco’s eyes widened at the nickname, his breath hitching. “Don’t call me that,” he said weakly, his hands gripping the edge of the basin tighter.
“Why not?” Harry asked, his voice placating, almost gentle now. “You’re always so quick to push me away, but I’m not leaving this time. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“You don’t understand,” Draco muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You never could.”
“Then help me understand,” Harry said, stepping closer until he was just a few feet away. “I’m tired of watching you tear yourself apart, Draco. Please.”
Draco stayed silent for a few moments, his shoulders trembling with the effort to hold himself together. Harry took the silence as permission and closed the remaining distance between them. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Draco’s torso, pressing his body to Draco’s back, effectively caging him in Harry’s embrace.
Draco stiffened at the contact, his hands tightening on the basin as if it were the only thing anchoring him. “Potter,” he said, his voice strained, “let go.”
“No,” Harry replied firmly, his cheek resting against Draco’s shoulder. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. I’m not letting you do this alone anymore.”
“Why do you care?” Draco whispered, his voice breaking, the vulnerability in it slicing through the air like a knife. “Why can’t you just leave me be?”
Harry tightened his hold, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I care about you, Birdie. More than you think. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this.”
"I saw it yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, I'm done letting you suffer like this."
Draco bit his lip as he felt long, soft fingers graze his neck before cupping his jaw, pushing his face up. Harry’s voice softened. “Look at me,” he urged, his eyes flicking to the mirror in front of them. “Please, Draco. Look at me.”
But Draco kept his eyes tightly shut, his breaths shallow and uneven. Harry’s brow furrowed, concern etched into every line of his face. Slowly, he leaned forward, his nose brushing against Draco’s left earlobe. The soft, intimate touch sent a shiver through Draco’s body. Before Draco could protest, Harry pressed his lips right below his jaw, the gesture lingering and filled with unspoken emotion.
Draco’s breath hitched sharply at the contact, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to stifle the soft, involuntary whimper that escaped anyway. His hands trembled as they gripped the basin tighter, his resolve crumbling with each of Harry’s tender touches.
“Draco,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath Draco’s jaw. “Please, look at me.”
Draco swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering open reluctantly. His gaze met Harry’s in the mirror, those green eyes full of determination and something else, something Draco couldn’t bring himself to name but desperately craved. His face was streaked with tears, and Harry’s heart clenched at the sight.
“See?” Harry whispered, his hand coming up to gently brush away the tears tracing down Draco’s pale cheeks. His touch was featherlight, as if afraid that anything firmer might shatter the fragile moment between them. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Draco’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. His throat felt tight, the lump there impossible to swallow. He closed his eyes again, turning his face slightly away, but Harry wouldn’t let him retreat.
“Don’t,” Harry said softly but firmly, his fingers guiding Draco’s face back toward the mirror. “Don’t shut me out.”
Draco hesitated, then forced himself to meet Harry’s gaze again, his silver eyes glistening with unshed tears. Harry’s hand slipped from Draco’s jaw to cradle the side of his neck, his thumb brushing soothing circles into the skin there. His lips resumed their journey, pressing gentle, reverent kisses along Draco’s jawline, trailing down to the hollow of his neck.
Between each kiss, Harry whispered, his breath warm against Draco’s skin. “What’s been bothering you, Birdie? What’s hurting you this much? Please… just tell me. Let me help.”
Draco’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his resolve wavering with every word, every kiss. The walls he’d so carefully built around himself were cracking, and Harry’s unwavering presence was seeping through the gaps, filling the spaces he’d kept hidden for so long. How was he supposed to explain this to him? How was he to confess to Harry, his Harry? He can't, he has kept his dark mark hidden with a glamour charm ever since he got it, Merlin knows how much shame Draco feels every time Harry kisses that spot on his arm, unaware of the hideous mark etched on it.
“I…” Draco’s voice was barely audible, trembling as much as his body. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Harry countered, his lips brushing against the corner of Draco’s jaw. His arms tightened around Draco’s torso, his embrace grounding. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. Whatever it is, I’m here. For you.”
Draco turned his head slightly, his face inches from Harry’s now. His breathing was ragged, his defenses in tatters. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to lean into the warmth of someone else’s care.
“I’m scared, Harry,” Draco admitted at last, his voice breaking on the confession.
Harry’s grip on him tightened, his own chest aching at the vulnerability in Draco’s words. “It’s okay to be scared,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Draco’s eyes opened wider, his stormy gaze locking onto Harry’s. His trembling hand shot up, fisting Harry’s red-and-gold tie and yanking him closer. Their lips crashed together in a deep, desperate kiss, Draco pouring every ounce of frustration, longing, and fear into it. Harry, caught off guard for only a split second, quickly reciprocated, his hands finding their place on Draco’s shoulders before sliding down to rest at his waist.
The kiss deepened, Harry tilting his head to allow better access as their lips moved together in an almost frantic rhythm. Draco’s free hand threaded into Harry’s unruly hair, tugging slightly to pull him even closer. Harry groaned into the kiss, his body pressing flush against Draco’s as heat pooled low in his stomach.
It didn’t take long for Draco to feel the evidence of Harry’s arousal pressing against him. A knowing smirk curved against Harry’s lips, and he pulled back just enough to meet Draco’s gaze, their foreheads touching as they panted for breath.
“You’re insatiable,” Draco muttered, his voice low and teasing. But before Harry could retort, Draco’s hands dropped from the basin behind him, sliding around Harry’s waist. In one fluid motion, he spun them around, pressing Harry’s back against the cold porcelain. His hands traveled downward, pausing just above the curve of Harry’s arse before grabbing it roughly, squeezing with a possessive fervor.
Harry gasped at the sudden movement, his hips jerking involuntarily toward Draco. His hands flew to Draco’s shoulders, steadying himself as their bodies pressed together more intimately. “Draco,” Harry managed to murmur, his voice rough and laced with want.
Draco leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of Harry’s ear. “You’re mine, Potter,” he whispered, his tone equal parts command and plea. “Do you understand that?”
Harry’s only response was to crash their lips together again, this time even more heated, as his hands roamed over Draco’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. The lavatory echoed with the sounds of their kisses, heavy breaths, and the faint rustle of fabric as their movements became more fervent, the tension between them finally snapping into something neither could deny.
Harry groaned softly against Draco’s mouth, his breaths hitching as Draco’s lips grew more insistent, dominating the kiss. Harry tried to regain control, his hands tangling in Draco’s hair as he pulled him closer, but Draco was relentless, his movements rough and demanding.
“Just-please, Draco,” Harry murmured between kisses, his voice a mix of frustration and pleading. “Just tell me what’s going on in that bloody head of yours. You need to talk to me.”
Draco growled low in his throat, his lips trailing down to nip at Harry’s jaw. His voice was rough, dripping with sarcasm. “Need? You think you know what I need, Sprig?”
Harry froze momentarily at the nickname, the sound of it, even spoken so harshly, sent a shiver down his spine. It was rare for Draco to use it, and when he did, it carried an intimacy that Harry couldn’t ignore. He sighed softly, the tension in his body easing for a brief moment, only to be replaced by a new wave of heat as Draco’s hands tightened their grip on his arse, pulling him closer.
Draco pressed his hips hard against Harry’s, their erections evident through the layers of fabric. The friction drew a shaky gasp from Harry, his fingers tightening on Draco’s shoulders. Draco’s silver eyes burned with something primal as he ground against Harry, each movement deliberate, almost punishing.
“You wanna know what I need?” Draco said, his voice low and guttural, his breath ghosting against Harry’s ear. “A good fuck. That’s what I need.”
Harry’s head fell back against the mirror as Draco emphasized each word with a sharp grind of his hips, drawing a deep moan from the Gryffindor. His hands slid down to Draco’s waist, clutching at the fabric of his white. button up as he tried to steady himself.
“Draco-” Harry began, his voice faltering as a particularly rough grind left him breathless. He struggled to form coherent thoughts, his body reacting instinctively to Draco’s intensity.
The blond boy took hold of Harry's hips, forcibly spinning him around to face the mirror. Draco's sharp features were a striking contrast to the soft flush blooming on his cheeks. His stormy gray eyes locked with Harry's emerald green in the reflection, and for a moment, the tension between them was thick enough to drown in.
"Now you listen here, Sprig," Draco whispered against Harry's ear, his breath warm and tinged with unsteady control. "You may be The Chosen One out there, but here, I am in charge."
Harry's breath hitched, his mind hazy with the weight of Draco’s words. While Harry was used to being the one in control, he could see the need in Draco’s eyes, the unspoken plea to take the reins this time. It wasn’t about dominance; it was about Draco needing to feel like he had power over something, anything, in his overly horrid world.
And Harry wasn’t about to deny him that. Not when he cared for Draco so deeply.
Harry nodded faintly, his throat dry as he positioned himself without another word. His hands gripped the cold porcelain of the basin, the chill grounding him. He shifted his feet apart, his back arching slightly as his head tilted to the side, baring his neck in silent surrender. For once, he chose to let go, to be good for his sour Slytherin.
Draco’s lips quirked into a smirk, though his gaze held an almost reverent softness as he stepped closer. "That's better," he murmured, his hands tightening on Harry's hips. The tension between them shifted, no longer just heated but layered with something deeper, trust, affection, and the unspoken understanding that they both needed this moment for entirely different reasons.
Draco’s hands slid up Harry’s sides, slow and deliberate, before trailing back down, his fingertips pressing into the fabric as if memorizing every contour. Harry shivered under the touch, his eyes fluttering shut briefly, but Draco’s voice cut through the haze.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Draco murmured, his tone commanding but not unkind. “I want you to see yourself.”
Harry swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back to the mirror. His reflection was a mix of nerves and anticipation, his cheeks tinged pink, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But what caught his attention most was Draco, his focus entirely on Harry, his usually guarded expression now unmasked, raw and brimming with unspoken emotion.
Draco leaned in, his lips brushing against Harry's ear as he whispered, "Good."
The blond's hand trailed down slowly, his touch deliberate, sliding across the soft wool of Harry's gray jumper. His fingers lingered at Harry’s waist before dipping lower, teasing the edge of his trousers. Draco's movements were unhurried, as if savoring the control he held in the moment, his pale fingers deftly popping the front button open.
Harry’s breath hitched, a mix of exhilaration and nerves coursing through him. The rational part of his brain screamed about the risks, the open corridor just outside, the vulnerability of being here, like this, with Draco Malfoy of all people. But another part, the reckless, thrill-seeking part of him that had faced down dragons and Death Eaters, found the danger intoxicating.
The tension in the room thickened as Draco’s hand crept under the waistband of Harry’s boxers, his touch featherlight at first, testing, teasing. Harry’s head fell forward slightly, his unruly black fringe shadowing his eyes as he let out a soft, involuntary sigh. The contact was startlingly intimate, Draco’s hand impossibly smooth against skin that had grown accustomed to calluses from a Quidditch grip and years of holding a wand in battle.
Draco smirked at Harry’s reaction, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear again. “Always so daring, Harry. I should’ve known you’d enjoy breaking the rules in more ways than one.”
Harry let out a low chuckle, though his voice was strained. “You’re one to talk,” he murmured, his emerald eyes flicking to meet Draco’s in the mirror. There was a challenge there, one that Draco didn’t back away from, instead moving his hand a little faster.
“Maybe,” Draco replied, his voice a silky drawl. His free hand rested on Harry’s hip, steadying him, grounding him. “But I think we both know you love it when I take charge.”
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat as Draco’s hand moved with more certainty, his motions calculated, deliberate. The Gryffindor tightened his grip on the basin, his knuckles whitening as he fought to keep himself composed. The blond watched Harry’s reflection with rapt attention, taking in the faint flush blooming across his cheeks, the way his lips parted as his breaths came quicker, uneven.
Soon Harry was panting and bucking into Draco's hand, he wanted to cum, needed to cum, but that bloody Slytherin had made quite the impact of Harry, after so many of their late night romps, Harry found he no longer could finish just from his cock alone, Draco had trained his body so well he now couldn't finish without having something up his arse, it was torture. Draco smirked, clearly reading Harry’s frustration in the mirror. “What’s the matter, Sprig?” he murmured, leaning closer so his breath tickled Harry’s ear. “Not enough for you? I thought you liked it when I played with you like this.”
“Birdie” Harry’s voice was a low, desperate growl, his hips bucking against the blond’s hand involuntarily. He needed more, craved more, but the Slytherin seemed content to keep him teetering on the edge.
Draco hummed, his free hand sliding from Harry’s hip to his lower back, pressing down slightly to arch him further. “You’ve gotten so spoiled, haven’t you?” he mused, his tone somewhere between teasing and affectionate. “You used to be so easy to please. But now…”
Harry let out a soft, frustrated groan, his head falling forward. He hated how well Draco knew him, how the blond had learned every inch of him, every button to push to drive him wild. And this, this maddening need that only Draco could fulfill, was as intoxicating as it was infuriating.
“Say it,” Draco whispered, his lips brushing against the back of Harry’s neck. “Tell me what you need, Sprig. Or I might just stop altogether.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry bit out, his voice rough with both defiance and desperation. His grip on the basin tightened as he threw a glance at Draco in the mirror, his green eyes burning with a mix of frustration and challenge.
“Oh, but I would,” Draco drawled, his lips quirking into a devilish smirk. His hand stilled deliberately, his fingers barely ghosting over Harry’s skin, just enough to remind him of what he could have but wasn’t getting.
The Gryffindor’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding as he forced himself to stay composed, though his body betrayed him, shuddering slightly under Draco’s touch. “You’re cruel, you know that?” he muttered, the edge in his voice tempered by the heat in his gaze.
Draco chuckled lowly, leaning in closer until his breath warmed the shell of Harry’s ear. “And yet, you’re still here,” he murmured, the smugness in his tone making Harry’s blood boil and his pulse race all at once.
Harry turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the blond out of the corner of his eye. “You really think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” he asked, his voice steady despite the tight coil of need in his chest.
Draco’s smirk widened. “Oh, Sprig,” he said softly, his fingers brushing teasingly along Harry’s side. “I know exactly what you want. The question is… are you brave enough to ask for it?”
Something shifted in Harry at those words, his emerald eyes darkening with determination and something far more primal. Without a word, he reached back, his hand clasping Draco’s, halting the maddeningly teasing movements on his aching cock. He had reached his limit, and there was no way he was letting Draco hold the upper hand any longer.
The action caught Draco off guard, his smug expression faltering for a fraction of a second before curiosity and desire flared in his silver gaze. “What are you-”
Harry cut him off, his other hand leaving the basin as he moved with purpose. In one smooth motion, he pushed his trousers and underwear down, the fabric pooling around his ankles, exposing his toned arse to the blond.
Draco’s breath hitched audibly, his composure wavering as his eyes took in the sight before him. His mouth went dry, and the smirk that usually adorned his face softened into something hungrier, more vulnerable.
“Speechless, Birdie?” Harry asked, his tone low and rough, tinged with satisfaction as he wiggled his hips as he glanced at Draco over his shoulder.
For a moment, Draco didn’t respond, his mind racing to process what had just happened. But then, his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and a smirk, this time tinged with genuine want, crept back onto his face. “Careful, Sprig,” he murmured, his voice thick. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
Harry leaned forward slightly, bracing himself against the basin once more, arching his back just enough to send a clear message. “Then stop talking,” he challenged, his voice steady but dripping with heat. “And do something about it.”
Draco didn’t need to be told twice.
"On your knees, Birdie," Harry commanded, his voice firm and brooking no argument.
Draco blinked, a shiver ran up his spine at the familiar and not unwelcome shift in power. His silver eyes widened momentarily before narrowing, a mixture of defiance and intrigue flickering across his face. “Oh?” he drawled, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.
“Now,” Harry snapped, his gaze unwavering.
There was a tense pause, the air between them crackling like a spell about to be cast. Then, to Harry’s satisfaction, Draco’s lips quirked into a smirk, a different one this time, tinged with admiration rather than arrogance. Without another word, the blond dropped gracefully to his knees, his sharp features tilted upward as he gazed at Harry Through the mirror with a look that could only be described as reverent.
“Happy now, Potter?” Draco asked, his tone teasing but quieter than usual.
Harry leaned backwards slightly, reaching his hand behind him, his fingers brushing through Draco’s soft platinum locks before gripping lightly, tilting his head back to force those silver eyes to meet his through the mirror. “I’ll let you know when I am,” Harry replied, his voice low and dangerous, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed how much he cared for the Slytherin behind him.
Draco’s breath hitched at the intensity in Harry’s expression, but he didn’t look away. He loved to tease, to provoke, but there was always something so intoxicating about Harry taking control like this, a side of the Gryffindor he secretly craved to see more often.
Harry loosened his grip slightly, allowing his thumb to gently trace the curve of Draco’s ear. “You’re good at following orders when you want to be,” he murmured, his voice softening just enough to be almost tender. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”
Draco smirked, his hands resting lightly on Harry’s thighs as he replied, “Anything for you, Potter.”
Harry smirked, his grip in Draco’s hair tightening slightly “Then you know what to do, no more games”
Draco nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against Harry’s rim in a way that sent a shiver up the Gryffindor’s spine. Simultaneously, Draco’s hand resumed its steady, deliberate pace, his movements confident and practiced.
Harry let out a low groan, his resolve faltering as Draco’s tongue worked with a mix of expertise and teasing precision. The blond’s free hand slid up to rest on Harry’s hip, steadying him as his efforts grew more fervent.
Unable to resist, Harry’s hips swayed, his body instinctively seeking more contact. Each movement brought him closer, his breath hitching with every calculated touch. Draco, ever perceptive, didn’t miss a beat, adjusting his rhythm in sync with Harry’s unspoken demands.
Harry’s hand slid from Draco’s hair to the back of his neck, a gesture both guiding and grounding. His emerald eyes fluttered shut as he allowed himself to get lost in the sensation, every ounce of frustration and tension melting away under Draco’s touch.
“Fuck, Birdie” Harry moaned as he felt the wet muscle lick and prod at his hole, his breaths growing more ragged.
Draco’s tongue kept exploring, sliding down to suckle on the Gryffindors balls, taking one testicle at a time as he twisted his hand in a specific angle that targeted his sensitive tip.
“Birdie…” Harry moaned again, his voice strained as he tugged lightly on Draco’s hair, urging him closer. “I-inside, I need you inside me.”
Draco chuckled lowly against Harry’s skin, the vibration sending a shiver up the Gryffindor’s spine. His lips continued their path, alternating between soft kisses and heated licks, while his hand maintained that feverish pace.
Harry’s grip on the basin tightened again as he felt himself losing control. “Draco…” he hissed through clenched teeth, a warning laced in his tone.
Draco pulled back slightly, releasing his balls with a lewd pop, his silver eyes glinting with mischief as he looked up at Harry. “But we don’t have lube” he asked, feigning innocence, though his hand didn’t falter for a second.
“Figure something out,” Harry growled, his emerald gaze locking Draco's in the mirror. His chest rose and fell heavily, his frustration evident. “And I swear, if you don’t stop teasing…”
Draco smirked, leaning in close again. “Alright” he purred, his voice dripping with challenge. “But first i need to prep you”
Dracos free hand came up to his face, he parted his lips to suck his fingers, coating them thoroughly so they were nice and wet. Soon he brought his fingers to Harry’s pulsing hole, teasing the entrance with one finger before pushing in slowly, giving Harry time to adjust.
Draco leaned in closer, his focus unwavering as he worked to loosen Harry, his fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm. The only sounds in the room were Harry’s shallow breaths and the faint squelch of Draco’s efforts. When he added a second finger, Harry groaned low in his throat, his hips pushing back instinctively.
Draco adjusted his angle, curling his fingers down to tease his prostate. Harry’s body jerked, his head falling forward as a strangled sound escaped his lips. Draco smirked at the response, quickening his pace slightly as his free hand slid up Harry’s thigh to steady him.
Harry’s reflection in the mirror showed his flushed face, his lips parted as he fought to keep his composure. His knuckles were white as he gripped the basin, his body trembling with every precise press of Draco’s fingers.
Draco kept a steady pace, curling his fingers just right as he fingerfucked the greedy Gryffindor. “M’close” Harry whined as he rocked his hips to take the Slytherin’s fingers deeper.
“That’s it” Malfoy rasped as he jerked Harry with fervor, squeezing his fingers around his cock just the way he likes it.
A few more curls of his fingers and a twist of the wrist have the brunette spilling hard onto the cold porcelain with a loud moan.
“So good Potter, now we can have some real fun,” Malfoy said as he gathered the sticky spent in his hand and started unbuttoning his own trousers that had gotten uncomfortably tight due to his own neglected erection.
Harry felt lightheaded, his muscles relaxed and arse begging for more as he slowly caught his breath. Harry couldn't keep his eyes open but he reveled in the lewd sounds Draco, his Draco was making as he stroked his own cock, coating it with Harry’s cum.
“Ready, Sprig?” Draco asked as he tapped his cock against Harry’s hole, Draco loved how the Gryffindor’s rim twitched with each tap.
Harry couldn't do more than nod, hoping that would be enough of a response for the blond.
It was.
“Ahh, fuhh” Harry moaned at the delicious feeling, his rim being stretched out by Draco’s slow strokes.
Draco watched with wide blue eyes as Harry began to rock his hips in tiny thrusts.
Slowly, the boy's body swallowed Dracos cock, with each thrust he got one centimeter deeper, and soon enough Draco bottomed out, his hips flush against Harry's soft arse.
He stayed still for a moment, enjoying the warmth that was Harry but soon enough the Gryffindor started getting restless, moving his hips, desperately trying to fuck himself on Dracos cock. That was Dracos breaking point, he took hold of Harry's hips and started thrusting in a set rhythm.
"So impatient" Draco mused with an almost mocking tone, yet Harry knew there was no bite behind that comment.
The sounds of slapping skin soon echoed around the stone tiled walls, and Draco could feel Harry's orgasm building, his cock throbbing with each stroke as he bit his lip and focused completely on Harry’s pleasure and release. The sight, the smell and the sound alone made Draco ache. Harry's cries reverberated around them, the vibrations causing Draco to grind down harder on Harry’s plump arse. "Sprig," he gasped as his fingers curled tightly against Harry's skin.
"Faster." Harry whimpered in reply, the pressure building as he felt the warm slickness of his own precum start to drip from his tip. He was close, so close .
"Harder," he demanded, reaching out his hand for Draco to grasp.
With a grin, Draco grasped Harry's hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze before snapping his hips sharply in an angle to aim for the brunette's prostate. "Come for me, baby," he whispered.
The two words, paired with the now constant feeling of Draco's head rubbing against his sweet spot seemed to break a dam within Harry. All at once, he spilled all over the bathroom floor, shooting his load into the basin as he clutched Draco's hand harder than before.
Draco's orgasm wasn't too far off either, as Harry's arse tightened around him, squeezing him, he felt himself getting oh so close.
The last thing Draco saw before closing his eyes was the sight of Harry’s pale, beautiful, sweaty face twisted in a mask of ecstasy, his bright green eyes blown open wide yet hidden by a the slight fogginess of his round glasses, and dark tendrils of messy dark hair hanging loose about his ears.
He didn't even realize when his own orgasm crashed over him and released into the brunette; his hands still gripping Harry's hips, his hips still pumping steadily against Harry's. For several long minutes, Draco stayed like that, lost in Harry’s intense warmth, until finally he found the strength to pull back.
His breathing labored, sweat clinging to his damp brow, Draco gazed at Harry's face through the mirror as he regained his composure. His heart raced, and his legs trembled, yet his euphoria was unparalleled. He really had needed that.
With all tension leaving his body, he slowly withdrew from Harry before drawing out his wand and performing a quick clean up spell to Harry's behind. “Are you alright?” He asked quietly after cleaning himself up too.
Harry nodded, his face contorted in pain as he stretched his back. “Bloody brilliant, thanks.” He smiled weakly at Draco.
Draco smiled back at him, his cheeks still flushed from his high before helping Harry pull his trousers back on.
Draco straightened Harry’s trousers with practiced ease, his movements brisk but careful. “Honestly, Potter,” he muttered, his tone both exasperated and amused, “you’d be completely lost without me.”
Harry rolled his eyes, leaning back against the basin for support, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh, come on. You love it.”
“Love dealing with a demanding brat like you? Hardly,” Draco shot back, though his hands lingered at Harry’s waistband a moment longer than necessary, smoothing out a wrinkle as if to prove a point.
Harry snorted. “You’re such a liar.”
Draco huffed, stepping back to retrieve a damp cloth from the sink. He wrung it out with sharp, precise movements before returning to Harry’s side. “You’re lucky I have infinite patience,” he drawled, bringing the cloth up to Harry’s flushed face.
“You’re lucky I put up with you,” Harry quipped, though he didn’t pull away, letting Draco wipe away the sweat clinging to his brow. Their gazes met briefly, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
Draco’s lips twitched, his smirk softening into something closer to a genuine smile. “Still a cheeky brat even after I’ve taken care of you,” he muttered, shaking his head as he finished cleaning Harry up.
Harry’s grin widened. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I wasn’t.”
“True,” Draco admitted with a shrug, though his tone remained teasing. “But let’s not inflate your ego more than it already is, shall we, oh great chosen one?”
Harry laughed, the sound low and warm, and Draco couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his face in response. Setting the cloth aside, he gestured toward the bench near the wall. “Sit down before you keel over. I don’t need the spectacle.”
“You’re so dramatic ,” Harry said but obeyed, easing himself onto the bench with a wince. His muscles ached, but the familiar routine of aftercare had its own kind of comfort.
“And you’re exhausting ,” Draco shot back, crossing his arms as he leaned against the sink. He arched a brow at Harry, the picture of casual arrogance, though his gaze remained sharp and attentive. “But I suppose someone has to keep you in line.”
Harry leaned back against the wall, his smirk turning lazy as he met Draco’s gaze. “Lucky me, huh?”
Draco’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Lucky us,” he said, his voice softer, though the teasing edge never quite left.
As the quiet settled between them, it was clear this wasn’t unusual, this dance of banter, care, and closeness. For all their bickering, they knew exactly how to take care of each other. It was simply their way.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on in that blond head of yours?” Harry asked, his tone casual but with a sharp edge that Draco knew better than to ignore.
Draco’s eyes flicked up, startled for just a moment before he masked it with a smirk. “Don’t you ever just… bask in the afterglow, Potter?”
Harry chuckled, low and warm. “Don’t think you’ve fucked me good enough to make me forget why we’re here, Birdie .” He grinned, the nickname dripping with playful defiance.
Draco’s lips parted in faint indignation, his cheeks flushing, not from exertion this time but from a mix of irritation and something softer. “Honestly, I have no idea what made you choose that nickname” he rolled his eyes in mock frustration.
Harry’s grin only widened as he leaned forward slightly, his emerald eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t look so scandalized. You earned it with all your flapping about. Fits you, don’t you think?”
Draco rolled his eyes, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as he leaned back against the sink. “Flapping? That’s rich coming from the boy who never shuts up.”
“And yet,” Harry countered smoothly, “you’re still avoiding the question. What’s on your mind?”
Draco faltered, the smirk slipping from his face for a brief second. His gaze darted to the mirror, catching his reflection as if trying to assess himself, then back to Harry. “Nothing’s on my mind,” he said, but the words lacked conviction, his voice too clipped to be believable.
Harry straightened up, the humor leaving his expression. “Draco.” His voice was firm, cutting through the air between them with a clarity that made Draco’s throat tighten.
“I told you, it’s nothing,” Draco snapped, his tone sharper now, though the defensive edge gave him away.
Harry shook his head, rising to his feet. He took a step forward, closing the space between them until Draco had nowhere to retreat. “Don’t think you can bluff your way out of this,” Harry said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Not with me.”
Draco tried to hold his ground, his gray eyes meeting Harry’s, but the weight of Harry’s gaze was too much. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping as if the fight had drained out of him.
“It’s not easy,” Draco admitted at last, his voice low and unsteady. “Having this-” He gestured vaguely between them. “-while knowing everything out there is falling apart. I keep thinking… if I let myself get comfortable, if I let myself have this… it’s all going to be ripped away.”
Harry’s expression softened, he stood up and walked to Draco, his hand reaching out to rest gently on Draco’s arm. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s not a reason to shut me out.”
Draco glanced down at the hand on his arm, his jaw tightening before he finally nodded, just a slight incline of his head. “You really are insufferable,” he muttered, though his tone was more resigned than cutting.
“And you love it,” Harry quipped, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.
Draco huffed, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Maybe I do.”
Harry stepped back slightly, giving Draco space but keeping his gaze steady. “Now, no more dodging. We’re in this together, Birdie. Always.”
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, the nickname falling to the wayside as he leaned into the moment. “You’re impossible, Potter.”
“Good thing you’re up for the challenge,” Harry said, his grin softening as he reached for Draco’s hand.
And for the first time in a long while, Draco didn’t pull away.