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February 15th

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"May I?"

Draco was certain he'd gotten a concussion when he fell off of the broom.

Harry was still a few inches from his face, that bottom lip worried between his teeth, and his eyes flicking back and forth between Draco's eyes and lips. Seven heartbeats passed and Draco still hadn't spoken. His breathing was still erratic and his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton.

"Malfoy, may I please kiss you?"

Nearly cross-eyed from simultaneously trying to hold his breath and the air fighting to move rapidly in and out of his lungs, Draco hissed, "Yes."

If he expected hot and forceful, he was gravely mistaken. Hot? Certainly. That much was clear as Harry's hands moved to grip Draco's hips over his sweatpants and he pressed his forehead into Draco's. Their sweat mingled, the air around them cooling their skin wherever a rivulet fell, and Draco was so focused on the way Harry smelled and how warm his hands were even over his clothes, he gasped when Harry's lips met his and the chapped skin on their lips caught and sent a shiver down their spines.

Harry had even asked and he was still surprised, and completely transfixed on the movements where their bodies connected. The Auror, slightly taller than Draco, used that height to his advantage as he moved one of the hands at Draco's hips up to cup the back of his head.

As Harry's soft kisses nudged him backwards, he felt his over-exerted limbs shake for an entirely different reason. Draco reached behind him to press a palm into the cold steel of a locker to brace himself.

With a hiss, when his bare back hit the line of steel behind him, he bit down on Harry's lower lip without thinking. The responding moan, and the bruising grip on Draco's hip, made the guilty feeling deep in Draco's gut struggle against the bonds he was trying to reign it with.

"Wait," Draco gasped, moving his lips to the side to break the kiss, not trusting himself to stop with one bite if he didn't move now.

Harry's hand was still tangled in the short hairs at the back of his head, and though the biting grip on Draco's hip released slightly, he didn't move away. Still close enough to steal another kiss, he searched Draco's face with his irises blown wide and cheeks flushed with arousal. Draco pulled in a shaky breath and would have hit his head back against the wall behind him if Harry's hand weren't still there.

"You don't want to do this with me," Draco said, each word cutting his throat like glass as he tried to save Harry from the fucked up possibility the Auror's fingers seemed intent on exploring. "I'm a fucking Death Eater, freshly released from rehabilitation, and you are-"

"A man who doesn't give two flying fucks about that."

Harry's forehead still pressed into Draco's, so he could feel when the blond shook his head back and forth. "You don't know what you're saying."

"What about the last two months gives you any indication I don't want this?" Harry asked, adjusting himself so he could more comfortably run his fingers over Draco's skull, the slight massaging pressure making Draco's lips part. "You're...you're beautiful , and so infuriating...incredibly infuriating, actually."

"That's not helping."

"Stop pouting, or I'll bite that pretty lip of yours."

Draco couldn't help the increase to his blush, or the way a laugh slipped through his parted lips, complimented twice now and if Harry continued...well, he could already feel his resolve cracking anyway.

"I could tell, you know. That day after you were taken off of probation." For the space of a breath, Draco's quickly drawn in one to be precise, Harry considered his next words. "I could feel the way you were watching me, stoned out of your mind from your own magic. I thought I was imagining things, at first. But the more I thought about it...the more I liked the idea of you watching me."

This was it. He'd survived a war on the wrong side and years of excruciating self-reflection, but there was no way in hell he would survive if Harry continued speaking.

"You've given this thought, then?"

A purr, just south of a growl, vibrated through Harry's chest and reestablished the goosebumps up and down Draco's arms. Harry shifted his legs so his thighs straddled one of Draco's. He wasn't so far gone from lust, the combination of praise and physical contact muddying his mind, to imagine the move was unintentional. This time, when his mouth parted further at the feeling of how much thought Harry had given this situation, Harry's lips were there to make good on his promise.

"Do you want me to say it, Malfoy?" Harry asked, pulling away and speaking between heated touches and demanding kisses. "Do you want me to tell you how much I've wanted to kiss you, how catching a glimpse of you walking around the Ministry in those well-tailored robes makes me think of what your body must look like beneath it? I knew I would see the Dark Mark, and the scars from the curse, but I couldn't have dreamed up the way you fucking glow on the pitch. Or the way you push your body to the limit on a broom until your muscles are shaking and your chest is heaving and, fuck , Malfoy. Even Ron noticed how much I stare at your ass and imagine just-"

Draco cut him off with a kiss that pulled Harry's tongue into his mouth and rubbed their teeth together, and was not gentle in the way he forced Harry to stop talking. "Never mention Weasley again before fucking me."

Starry eyed and panting, Harry moved his lips to Draco's neck and started to test where to bite, to lick, or to mark. "Deal."

Distracting Draco sufficiently, until he was wantonly rolling his hips, the fabric of their sweatpants riding up and bunching around their fully erect cocks and providing the friction the both were chasing, Harry pulled Draco from the lockers and moved towards the showers.