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Heat of the Moment

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The thing is, Harry doesn’t think of himself as an Alpha. Harry didn’t even know about classifications until Hermione mentioned it about six months after the war, a bit like a footnote. Along with you’re a wizard, Harry and you’re a Horcrux, Harry was you’re an Alpha, Harry and that was that. Just one more odd thing to add to the list which went some way to explaining some slightly concerning physiological differences from Muggles. Not as exciting as being a wizard, definitely not as terrible as being a Horcrux. To all intents and purposes, Harry can’t say much has changed since his peculiar chat with Hermione.

He’s always felt a bit out of kilter with other Alphas. They talk about their conquests a lot and Harry pretends he knows exactly what they’re on about. The truth is, he hasn’t a clue. He’s never understood wanting to take someone based on nothing more than animal instinct. He’s never experienced that pull to another person or noticed scents much beyond a dull recognition of an Omega in heat when other Alphas fall all over themselves to get closer. He’s always supposed he must be a bit impervious to it all – like Imperio.

That is, until now.

“Potter.” Malfoy’s flushed, his cheeks bright red. He’s standing at Harry’s door, looking like he’s in pain. “I fucking hate you.”

Harry would love to respond, but he’s not sure he can form a proper sentence. Draco took every pain to duck out of Harry’s way at the Ministry and even when Harry tried to offer an olive branch by arranging meeting after meeting, Draco made some excuse to avoid seeing Harry. He’s only ever seen Draco from a distance, slipping away whenever Harry tries to get too close.

“Malfoy, it’s nearly midnight.” It’s a useless thing to say. Draco knows what time it is and Harry wasn’t exactly sleeping. He just can’t quite bring himself to say what he’s thinking which is probably a good thing. Draco smells like the Great Hall during treacle tart season, like Quidditch brooms and chocolate frogs. Draco smells exactly like that Amortentia Harry brewed for his Auror exams. He swallows, inhaling the delicious scent. It’s bloody gorgeous – rich and decadent. Harry lets out a shaky breath and stands to one side as Draco eyes him warily. It’s all Harry can do to stop himself from shoving Draco down and taking him then and there. “Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t sleeping. Come in, then.”

“It’s driving me mad.” Draco’s voice is a tight, angry whisper. It’s like he’s so furious he can’t even bring himself to shout. “It’s driving me mad doing this without you. It hurts.”

Harry tries to keep his voice steady but he’s not sure he manages it. He stuffs his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do anything stupid. He bites back a groan when Draco moves past him, catching his arm and pulling him close. The movement draws a low sound of distress from Draco’s parted lips as he stares at Harry, his face pale.

“Tell me,” Harry says. It’s about all he can manage. He tries for reassuring but it comes out as choked and heavy with raw, unchecked desire.

“I’m going to…” Draco lets out a snarl and then he glares at Harry, his face twisted. “Heat. I need help. Last time I did it alone and I’m not fucking doing that again. I’d rather chew my arm off ordinarily than come to you for this kind of help but the alternative doesn’t warrant thinking about.” Draco shudders. He looks mutinous, his chin jutting at Harry as if daring him to say no. Despite his angry appearance there’s something behind his look which makes Harry’s heart quicken and which sets off something fierce and possessive within him. “I hear on the grapevine you’re still available.” Draco stares at his feet, looking displeased. His jaw works as if there’s something he wants to add, but can’t.

“Okay.” Harry can’t actually imagine saying no to Draco now. The last thing he wants is for Draco to leave. “I mean, sure.”

Sure?” Draco looks a bit wild, desperate and decidedly more rumpled than Harry’s ever seen him. “Okay? Well fuck you, Potter. Fuck you for being completely useless as always. If fucking me is that much of an inconvenience, I’ll just leave, you stupid, infuriating bloody-”

With Draco’s hand on the door, Harry lunges. The idea of Draco leaving now with the overpowering scent of his heat making Harry dizzy is unthinkable. The possibility of Draco finding someone else makes Harry growl, just thinking about it. He presses against Draco and kisses him senseless until Draco’s grinding against Harry, so hard and so, so needy. With a low groan, Harry brings his hand to Draco’s cock and even that touch through Draco’s trousers makes Draco buck and hiss as he shudders with pleasure and pain.

“Not enough…I need…” Draco lets out a frustrated whine and it sparks something in Harry. A fierce protectiveness wells up in his chest and makes him want to take Draco and then keep him close. The thought of Draco going through this alone, of him anywhere other than in Harry’s arms…

“I know, love. I’ve got you.” It surprises Harry that he does know. The love slides between them, strange and unfamiliar. That instinctive animal need finally rolls over Harry in waves and everything clicks into place. He has an inkling why Draco’s here now and he’s fairly certain it has little to do with Harry’s availability. However, the truth is he no longer particularly cares. Talking can come later. For now, the need to be with Draco is overwhelming.

“You’re not going home,” Harry says. He doesn’t mean ever, of course. Draco seems to know that, nipping at Harry's lower lip as a shiver travels the length of his body.

“I don’t know if I could, even if I wanted to.” Draco sounds distressed and Harry kisses him slowly, running his hands over Draco’s skin and soothing him. He hates that being here makes Draco sound so uncertain. He promises himself that whatever they do after this, Harry's going to take his time reassuring Draco that Harry himself is actually rather happy with this turn of events. There's a reason he's been so keen to see Draco properly face to face. The mouth-watering way Malfoy could look lounging with casual insolence against one wall or another was starting to drive Harry completely barmy. He's had Draco on the brain for longer than he cares to admit.

The very fact Draco might have Apparated in this state or - even worse - had to find his way to Harry's house at risk of bumping into another Alpha makes red heat swim before Harry’s eyes. He knows the risks Draco must have taken to get here and he's determined to make it worth Draco's while. He growls, low and rough in his throat and yanks open Draco’s trousers. He unbuckles his own with one hand and he pushes Draco onto the carpet. They stumble over in their effort to fall to the floor as quickly as they can and then Harry settles over Draco, pushing into him with one hard motion.

Draco's scent is so strong it floods Harry’s senses. He’s so wet and slick, and he opens to Harry without the need for any foreplay or preparation. He just gasps out when Harry pushes inside and arches his back, tugging Harry close.

“Fucking…kiss me, you prick.” Draco’s voice leaves him in a low, furious whine. It sounds so sad and urgent that Harry can’t even begin to make sense of the complicated mess of anger and pain beneath Draco’s words. He concentrates on taking Draco as hard and as fast as he can, kissing him until they’re both panting and Harry’s swelling inside Draco. Draco groans, bucking up and coming over his stomach. Harry grips Draco’s slick thighs and pushes in deep, grinding as his knot swells inside Draco. He doesn’t want to hurt him – he wants to kiss the soft, angry frown from between Draco’s eyes. He wants to mark him and keep him warm, sated and protected. Harry dips his head to mouth at the spot on Draco’s neck where his pulse beats and jumps and he tastes the salty perspiration on Draco’s skin. He wants to bite down, instead scraping his teeth along Draco’s skin and murmuring his name over and over as he begins to come.

“God…” Harry kisses Draco through his orgasm until finally he’s finished and Draco murmurs Harry’s name against his lips.

“Don’t be kind to me.” Draco yanks at Harry’s hair, pulling him back from the kiss and giving him a fierce look. Even as they’re joined together, Draco looks uncharacteristically messy and cross. “I won’t be able to bear it if you’re your usual sanctimonious self. I’m not your bloody charity.”

“No.” Harry stares at Draco and he circles his hips slowly, watching Draco arch with a low whimper and his cock jump and harden at the touch. “No, you’re not charity.” He brushes his lips against the shell of Draco’s ear. “Now I know why you kept running away from me. You didn’t want me to catch your scent and figure it out.”

Draco chokes back a no but even as he says it he kisses Harry as if his life depends on it. His cheeks are damp with tears and his lips are salt, copper and distress. “I don’t…don’t want you to do it to be kind.”

“Idiot.” Harry snarls it out, the thought of Draco hiding this making him furious. He rubs his thumb against Draco’s cheek and he stares at him. He’s sure his eyes are molten fire and the intensity of his gaze makes something shudder through Draco as he widens his eyes, staring back at Harry.

“Really? You too?”

“What do you think?” Harry snorts and then he circles his hips again. He draws a delicious groan of pleasure from Draco and does it again, just for good measure. He takes Draco’s wrist and noses at the pulse-point, almost trembling with pleasure as he fills his senses with Draco’s captivating, glorious scent. “I’m not in the habit of fucking anyone that comes knocking.”

“As if anyone would come knocking for you,” Draco huffs.

“You did.” Harry gives Draco a look and moves again, just so. It’s enough to pull a cry from Draco who arches beneath Harry with a muttered curse. “Didn’t you?”

“Y-yes. Fuck.” Draco’s words leave him with a ragged puff of air and then he lets out a groan when Harry finally slides from him. He catches Harry’s hand and holds onto it tightly. “Don’t…don’t leave. Not when I’m like this.”

Harry shakes his head. He murmurs a spell which makes the carpet soft and cushioned. He Summons a blanket from upstairs and wraps it around them both, curling up with Draco close. He slides his fingers down Draco’s spine and counts each raised bump, nosing at the delicious spot on Draco’s neck where his scent is particularly strong. “Not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Draco seems to relax a little, even as he presses back against Harry.

“I’ll take care of you.” Harry can’t help himself. Draco makes him feel positively fierce and just as desperate as Harry suspects Draco feels. His head’s still spinning with the fact that he’s pretty sure Draco Malfoy’s mate but he has a feeling they’ll figure that out. For now, he wants to make this as easy for Draco as possible. He slides his fingers to where Draco’s slick and clenching emptily and he pushes inside him with a groan of pleasure. Draco hisses and then Harry’s name leaves him. It sounds like please. Harry obliges, adding another finger and giving Draco everything he needs until Draco’s coming over his stomach again and whispering Harry’s name, over and over.

“It won’t be easy.” Draco’s voice is rough and quiet as he muffles a yawn. He turns in Harry’s arms and watches him, his lips turned downwards and his expression uncertain. “You and me. We don’t know a thing about one another.”

“We know a bit.” Harry shrugs. He does know more about Draco now, from the things he hears people at the Ministry say. It’s mostly good, these days. He knows enough about Draco’s past to suspect in some ways they might not be that dissimilar. They probably both have nightmares, for a start. They both love to fly. They can't stand to be apart, apparently. That's new.

Draco pulls a face. “If you say so.”

Harry urges Draco close and kisses him slowly, before pulling back. “Why did you come here tonight?”

Draco looks away. “Because I’m sick to the back teeth of avoiding you. I’m tired of it. I wanted to give you the choice.”

Harry stares at Draco, that thump, thump of his heart in his chest and the way Draco’s scent catches on his nostrils filling him with a warmth which radiates out like the first time he found magic. He recalls the solid weight of the right wand in his hand and he brushes his lips against Draco’s hot skin.

“It’s an easy decision to make.”

“How can it be?” Draco whispers.

Harry answers him with a kiss.