Author: xErised PM
It was a fine, beautiful, sunny day when Albus Potter stumbled on his father and Draco Malfoy in bed together. Complete. HP/DMRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Harry P. & Draco M. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 22,907 - Reviews: 135 - Favs: 445 - Follows: 68 - Updated: 09-11-09 - Published: 09-04-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5353896
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Yes, super long chapter. It didn't feel right to split this into two chapters, nor did I want to compromise the quality by deleting scenes.
Go on, give it a read.
You won't be disappointed.
He was doing it again.
He was talking in that voice that Harry could never say no to; that silky drawl of sweet strawberry-infused cream the texture of rich, frothy chocolate pouring from those swollen, thoroughly-kissed lips of his.
"Just a bit more, Harry. It's the summer holidays, our children will be home and we'll be seeing so much less of each other…" Draco Malfoy purred temptingly, moist tongue teasing the brunette's neck, tracing the jugular vein hitting all the spots that you never knew you had- that was throbbing madly with excitement.
"No, please… Ginny and the kids will be back- oh!" Harry's words of categorical refusal withered on his lips when the blond covered the brunette's strong, chiseled jaw-line with feather-light kisses. Long, pale fingers tipped with nails a sheen of light pink travelled up to stroke Harry's wrist and it was then that Harry knew that he was playing a losing game.
The air surrounding the two men was musky and balmy with sultry sex. The blankets were twisted agitatedly around two pairs of tangled legs, and the bed sheets were ripped off of one corner of the bed. Various bed things were thrown all over the bedroom; a bolster was lying forlornly behind the door, pillows were strewn helter-skelter at all sides. Clothes were scattered carelessly on the floor, and ripped shreds higher than fucking high- of underwear were tossed unceremoniously beside the wardrobe.
The thighs of both naked men were dripping sticky and sweet- with long, ribbon-like strands of semen, their backs and the sides of their faces radiated a light coat of clammy sweat. Their lips were the shade of raspberry sorbet, swollen and plump. Both of their bodies bore the marks of rough sex; Harry had ten thin, angry red scratches stretching across the expanse of his broad, bronzed back, and Draco had multiple, vicious love bites sprinkled haphazardly around his shoulders and lower neck.
"Honeydukes. Kids will spend a whole fucking day in there," Draco pointed out, dipping his head to cover Harry's feeble protests with a wet, greedy kiss. Small fireworks were being set off in the pit of Harry's belly as the other man swept his mouth from Harry's lips to the bottom of his earlobe.
"Do I own you?" Draco hissed, his nails curved into talons pressing deeply into Harry's flesh.
"Y-yes!" Harry cried out, biting his lips in a sluttish manner. Draco's touch sent volts of ecstasy shooting through his body like a turbo-charged lift, and Harry enjoyed every fucking filthy, dirty, smutty minute of it.
"Then promise me," the blond started as he propped himself up on his elbows and tucked a finger under Harry's chin, jerking his gaze up roughly. Grey, monopolizing eyes glazed over with the unmistakable triumph of sexual possession connected with lust-drunken green ones. "Promise me that while you're fucking your wife in this very bed the next time, you will think of me. Think of my tongue, my cock and my fingers in you. Fuck your wife like how I would fuck you. Hard – insistent – rough – like this!" With each breathless word, Draco grinded their hips together sharply, causing Harry to gasp deliriously, a deep swirl of intoxication thundering in his blood.
And when the ex-Slytherin's head bobbed down south, Harry let his senses go into freefall as he dived eagerly into the world that consisted of nothing but Draco Malfoy.
Harry Potter first noticed Draco appearing in the media an awful lot during the highly-publicized separation from his wife. The Wizarding Wireless Network was always in the midst of mentioning the affair whenever Harry switched it on. The messy, scandalous issue eclipsed all other news; and for a period of time, the front page featured nothing but pictures and articles about the Malfoy Divorce.
Photographs of a teary Astoria storming out of Malfoy Manor were plastered all over various newspapers and magazines. Draco and Scorpius Malfoy, wearing identical neutral expressions of aloofness and detachedness, stood impassively in front of the heavy, wooden doors of the manor. Draco's lips were compressed into a thin, unyielding line, and his arm was wound protectively around his young son, who alternated between hanging his head despondently and sharing Draco's flinty stare.
When Harry had seen that photograph, he had lifted the grainy, black and white paper to his nose, trying to see if there was any emotion written at all over Draco's blurry face. He failed to find any.
Cold unfeeling bastard, Harry had snorted as he swiftly turned the page.
Rumors were flying frivolously over exactly why the marriage broke down.
"He's always been way too good-looking for her-"
"The son wasn't his, I heard-"
"Cheated on him?! Merlin, if I was married to that, no sodding way in Merlin's balls I'll cheat! Bloody rich, hot-"
"Money, I think-"
"He's gay, I heard from my cousin's friend's sister's grandmother-"
Other media, such as Witch Weekly were exhilarated with the news that Draco Malfoy was available yet again. Draco's pictures were splashed obsessively all over the covers of female magazines, the headlines screaming "MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR!" in bright pink, sparkly, glittery words.
Moreover, Draco Malfoy was a rising star in the hospitality field, doing exactly what; Harry didn't really bother to find out. He had enough on his plate already, with his three tireless kids filling up his life, sapping up his remaining energy and his precious, dutiful wife, who kept his meals hot and ready whenever he returned late from work and expected sex on the 2nd and 28th days of every month.
Of course, all of that changed on that fateful day when the Potter family visited the Weasley-Granger household. As Hermione was working in the finance field, they always had a lot of magazines and periodicals relating to the business world lying around. While Harry and Ron were lazing in the living room discussing Quidditch teams, Harry's eyes fell on a copy of publication, half-buried under a mountain of newspapers, which featured Draco Malfoy on the front cover.
Sighing to himself, Harry had flippantly retrieved the offending article and threw a lethargic glimpse at it. He expected to feel a sense of loathing, a modicum of disgust at how famous and popular his school-mate seemed to be getting. All because of a sodding divorce.
He did not expect, however, his spine to suddenly shoot up and every nerve ending vibrate like unguided missiles before take-off. He did not expect his heart to suddenly beat a thousand times faster, and he certainly did not expect a sharp stab of anticipation that hurtled straight to his cock.
"Harry, mate, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Ron had croaked out.
Quickly regaining his composure, Harry cleared his esophagus which felt like it had a ball of lust, desire and envy lodged permanently there. Waving the magazine quickly back and forth so that Ron hopefully didn't see the tall, intimidating figure of Draco, Harry asked whether he could take it back home.
Ron had wrinkled his nose in curiosity and squinted at the blushing brunette. "It's business, Harry. What're you so interested in that for?"
Harry blinked, the windmills of his mind whirring madly with any plausible excuse. Glancing at the cover, his eyes suddenly shot as fast as quicksilver to a single word.
"I'm interested in… fisheries! Yeah, fisheries!" Harry had babbled in what hoped to be a believable voice, because he himself didn't bloody believe a blinking word of what he was saying.
Ron was staring at Harry like he had grown another head now. Harry held his breath, afraid to exhale.
"Aw, sure, go on," Ron said dismissively, waving a hand.
The minute the dinner had ended and when both Ginny and he had dragged their bawling kids back home, Harry had gone straight to the bathroom, drew a warm bubble bath, stripped off his clothes, plopped down into the welcoming, frothy water, took a deep breath and lifted his eyes hesitantly to the prominent figure of Draco Malfoy.
The brunette felt his tense expression melt into a dreamy smile and his veins hum with a sort of heady buzz. His eyes gazed in dark-eyed rapture at the daunting stature of the blond. He was dressed in a professional business suit; a pure-white, collared shirt tucked underneath an expensive, designer, black jacket with customized, glittering cuff-links that bore his initials. A simple, skinny black tie was fastened neatly around his neck. His legs were encased he wore the clothes, the clothes didn't wear him- in a pair of black, tailored pants that seemed the material of gossamer silk. His shoes were polished and glistened so sharply under the lights until it almost blinded Harry.
Draco had an air redolent of success, fame and proficiency surrounding him. Harry let his breath out in a hiss as he stared, transfixed, at a silver earring in a shape of a dragon pierced into Draco's right earlobe. The dragon was glaring heatedly at the camera and its small, skeletal wings were liquid mercury- wrought metal and lifted high up aggressively. The serpent had stormy eyes the shade of rubies that drilled darkly into Harry's own unbelieving ones. The earring was an extremely sexy touch, giving Draco an aura of bad boy personality that Harry enjoyed very much. One pale hand was placed in the pocket of his trousers, and the other hand was resting casually on the knot of his tie. A single, twinkling ring was fixed on the ring finger on Draco's right hand. Harry squinted at it further before he realized it was the Malfoy ring. The affluent piece of jewelery was ornately decorated, with a capital, cursive M etched into it, the ends of the letter twisting and turning all the way to the back of the ring.
Harry knew his thoughts were scrambling out of control now as he mentally undressed the other man, imagining how Draco's milky white body and that sweet cock- Merlin, Harry, what the fuck's wrong with you- would look under those well-fitting clothes. Shaking his head vigorously, he sank his top two teeth into his bottom lip and almost didn't dare to let his hazy, smoky eyes ascend upwards to Draco's save the best for the last- face.
Harry felt his green eyes dilate in pure, unadulterated, voracious lust as he traitorously eye-fucked Draco's face. Draco's fair-skinned face was calm and noble like the head of a proud, Roman figurine cast in ivory marble. His features were clearly defined; those clear, almond-shaped eyes bloodthirsty with power, that pair of full, sneering cherry lips that rendered Harry breathless. A corner of his mouth was quirked up in a parody of a glacial smile, revealing twin rows of sparkling teeth. A shaped eyebrow was arched up imperiously, and Draco's full-lashed eyelids were dipped downwards seductively. His head was tilted to the side, revealing an attractive creamy neck for you to bite, Harry, fuck- that suited his pale skin. The shade of his skin was almost translucent, and Harry saw, under his drug-laced gawking, the hint of a strong collarbone hiding coquettishly under Draco's shirt.
A surge of hysteria burned in Harry as he riffled through the magazine for the article more pictures nownowNOW that featured the blond. He was so agitated that he almost dropped the darned magazine in the bath. Finally, he found it; a three-page spread on Draco and his son which consisted of a huge photograph spanning the pages.
Almost drooling with longing, Harry hooked his eyes onto Draco, who was dressed in a simple red collared shirt folded meticulously up to his bony elbows and a pair of dark-blue jeans. His platinum hair wasn't styled, and tendrils of it hung very femininely and loosely around his face. He was still wearing the dragon earring, but the animal wasn't its fiery, blazing self in the first photo. It was curled up defensively in a ball; its long, leathery tail dangling peacefully from Draco's earlobe. The blond was lying on the floor on his stomach, engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess with Scorpius. Harry only threw a cursory glance at the younger Malfoy however; he was too distracted by Draco. His rapacious green eyes zoomed in on the shapely curve of Draco's arse clad in those tight, fetching jeans and the slight strain of muscle I wonder what sort of muscles you'll be straining when he's on top of you- in his right arm when the blond leant over to move a chess piece on the board.
Draco's completely open face was captured on the camera; his eyes were no longer competitive chips of chilly grey ice, but was alight with genuine laughter and joy as he chuckled at his son. His pink, rosebud lips were parted in a rare, unexpected grin and his lean, svelte fingers were splayed attractively on the floor.
Harry groggily and reluctantly tore his eyes from the picture and tried to read some of the text of the interview, but his head was spinning too intensely with the two photos of Draco which were hammered like needles into Harry's brain.
He could only catch a few words and phrases before another pang of vehemence jolted to his cock again. A strangled cry tearing from his throat, Harry had dropped the magazine down to wet marble tiles and felt his head fall back onto the hard porcelain surface of the bathtub with a dull, painful thunk. But he could care less, his legs were spread apart like some whore, both ankles fixed onto respective sides of the tub. Wrapping both hands around his rock-hard, throbbing cock, he began to jerk himself off. His shoulders and thighs were rumbling with readiness as he worked himself to offensive fantasies of Draco Malfoy. His breath was coming out in excited, short spurts now, and his tongue was hanging limply between his lips. Faster, Draco, faster until I-
A loud curse and a terrified yelp spilt forth from Harry as his body gave a disappointed spasm at being interrupted. Lukewarm water sloshed violently from the tub while Harry felt his fuzzy eyesight sharpen acutely at his surroundings and the rest of his senses click back into the present.
"Harry! Are you alright?! You've been in there for a long time!" Ginny called through the door.
Coughing, Harry replied that he was fine while he lifted up shaky fingers as wrinkled as prunes, stained with pre-come and pushed them through his unruly fringe. He listened carefully, ears cocked, as Ginny's footsteps led her away from the bathroom.
Bloody hell. Harry felt like he had awoke from a deep, soporific slumber. That tight, scraping feeling of self-loathing and disgust had finally caught up to him and he dunked his head into the water. He stayed like that for a long time, trying to cleanse his mind and body of those subversive images that flashed through his mind's eye like a sick slide-show. He was mad, Harry concluded. He had a stable family with a lovely wife and three beautiful children, what was he doing, fantasizing about another… man! And Draco Malfoy, out of all people! He promptly began to give himself a good, old-fashioned talking-to.
Shaking his head from side to side as though trying to rid himself of the mucky, lingering images of Draco, he hauled himself up from the bathtub, dried his body and yanked his clothes on quickly. His eyes suddenly landed on the magazine, where the Draco on the front cover still tempted him with those eyes that seemed to stab you know you want me, Potter- his conscience. Swallowing quickly, he picked it up with trembling hands and let himself look at it one last time, expecting himself to be immune from the blond's charms.
Sadly, he felt his cock judder awake like a giant, yawning animal.
Swearing under his breath, he ripped the cover venomously to pieces and ruthlessly dumped it into the nearest trash can the second he stepped out of the bathroom.
He was in deep shit; a mire of quicksand that he couldn't claw himself out of no matter how fucking hard he tried.
Draco fucking Malfoy was like an infected needle lodged underneath his skin, pumping lewd delusions bit by bit into his mind. He couldn't tear him out, he couldn't scratch him out. Harry didn't need the fucking magazine; every single feature of the blond had been ingrained as vivid and clear as water into the very deepest depths of his brain. Especially those eyes; those grey eyes with tiny flecks of black ice in them, those eyes which were like a pair of hypnotizing snakes that burnt remorselessly in Harry's mind with an eviscerating stare.
Harry gazed unseeingly at the shifting silhouettes and patterns that the moonlight cast on the ceiling above Harry and Ginny's bed. Slowly, as if in a trance, he slipped off his pyjama bottoms off and slid a finger across the length of his cock. His other hand gently clasped slumbering Ginny's wrist, stroking the soft, freckled flesh there.
Harry blinked in bewilderment. Inhaling a deep breath, he screwed his eyes tight and visions of a formidable Draco Malfoy dominated his thoughts. Within seconds, his mind had transplanted the Draco from the article on top of Harry's body. Thrusting, gasping, sliding, licking, fucking-
Whatever snippets that Harry had caught in that interview rushed back to him like a crashing tidal wave.
Harry felt like he was in a Muggle car speeding down a steep cliff. He could stop, he could pull the brakes, but no, he didn't want to, it was so thrilling, so fucking naughty and delicious to zoom down the mountain Draco Malfoy, cut-throat, power-crazed entrepreneur- at breakneck speed, and Ginny was beside him, and here he was, shamelessly masturbating to a man like some sort of two-bit slut- Harry felt his last shred of resistance swallowing up small establishments left and right like a murderous shark- shatter into nothingness, he was going to reach the end now, he was hovering on the edge of the cliff, no it was not too late words as sharp and swift as switch-blades- to slam on the brakes, stop everything now, but all he needed, all he ever hankered for was this orgasm however, another side of him when he's with his son- that he was sure, so sure would get rid of Draco Malfoy out of his brain once and for all, no, too late he had already keep your eye on this dangerous man, ladies and gentlemen- crossed the threshold one of the few that seem set to revolutionize the hotel business- into the, into the-
Harry suppressed a silent scream as the most powerful orgasm that he had ever experienced wracked through his body that was pulled so tightly like a stretched, taut rubber band. Regretfully, he felt the wave of orgasm ebb away slowly until Harry was a quivering and trembling mass. Reaching out for his wand to clean up the mess, a dark, chilling thought gradually dawned on him.
Draco Malfoy was not only still present in his mind; but now, the blond had corroded like Pandora's box- every cell, every fibre, every nerve of his being.
It wasn't technically cheating on Ginny, actually. Well, sure, sex with her wasn't as stimulating and fabulous as it used to be, and his wet dreams revolved around Draco, but as long as he kept his cock in his pants everything was just dandy. There were still some articles about Draco that popped up frequently in the Daily Prophet, but they were mostly in the business portion, and Harry tried not to let his eyes wander towards the coaxing pictures of the blond.
He was already obsessed enough.
But little did Harry know that all of that was about to change the minute he saw said blond step into the ice-cream parlor in Diagon Alley that used to be Florean Fortescue's, but it had been refurnished by another man called Mr. Diggles who had blue, kind eyes that crinkled at the sides when he smiled.
Harry had slipped his hands under Albus's arms and hoisted him up to the vast display of ice-creams that the parlor had on sale.
"Pistachio, bubble-gum, and… hmmm…" After dawdling for a while, Albus had paused and looked at his father solemnly, because choosing ice-cream flavors was of monumental importance to twelve-year-olds.
"Which one do you want, Daddy?"
"Vanilla?" Harry had replied, but not before a sneaky thought because it's the color of your hair- snaked surreptitiously through his mind.
"Vanilla it is then!" Albus announced, clapping his hands joyously.
Suddenly, the golden bell on the door tinkled merrily. Harry casually glanced at the entrance-
And almost dropped his son.
Harry swallowed nervously and placed Albus properly on his little feet and quickly tugged his family away from the counter. Hot flushes spread on Harry's chest and back as Draco Malfoy the man responsible for his wet dreams- and his son strode purposely into the small shop and arrived in front of the ice-cream display with a few long strides of their lanky legs. Just being in this respectable proximity with the blond was enough to ramp up his levels of excitement to ardent heights; Harry could feel his cock harden mercilessly.
Harry noticed that Scorpius was quite tall for his age; at least he was tall enough to look at the numerous flavors for sale. Letting his cool, clear grey eyes appraise the wide variety of ice-cream available in a very business-like manner, Scorpius, after a mere few seconds of deliberation, immediately stepped up to Mr. Diggles, looked at the man straight in the eye and recited sternly the flavors of the ice-cream that he wanted with a sense of assuredness that was rather unnerving for a twelve-year-old boy.
Meanwhile, Harry felt that Draco had been carefully studying the Potter family in that infuriatingly casual way. The blond swept his assessing eyes superficially over Ginny, who stood in front of Lily and James; arms slightly stretched over the both of them and staring back at Draco with an unwavering gaze. Harry quickly looked down at the scuffed soles of his trainers and felt so inadequate and poor next to the Malfoys, who looked so polished and preened. Scorpius looked at the Potter family; James, who was glaring at Scorpius, Lily, who didn't seem to have any particular expression on her face, and lastly, Albus, who had a questioning look etched on his features. Scorpius formally inclined his head in recognition at Albus; in reply, a small smile crept up on the brunette's lips. Schooling his eyes into haughty grey shards, twisting his lips into a sneer, he directed this derogatory countenance to James.
"Dad!" Albus blinked and urgently tugged at his father's hand. Albus felt his father was acting quite silly, all red and blushing. Inwardly Albus smiled serenely; it was nice to know that his daddy still felt so strongly about his mummy after all these years. Harry snapped out of his reverie, quickly scooped up his son, who beamed happily up at Mr. Diggles before grabbing his ice-cream. Harry felt like Draco's eyes were boring holes into him, as though he knew about Harry's fantasies… Feeling a surge of bravery course through his body, Harry tilted his face up at the taller man and glanced at him, expecting to see nothing but disdain and contempt.
No, there's no way- Harry's eyes widened fractionally when he saw a tempting tongue slide itself smoothly across the bottom of Draco's teeth as swift as lightning. If you hadn't been looking at that exact split second, you wouldn't have noticed it at all, but Harry did, and he felt completely thrown off-course.
Quickly retreating to his family, an extremely disturbed and turned-on Harry ushered all of them to an empty table at the other side of the shop. The brunette took the seat that faced the Malfoys on purpose. Lifting up Albus's ice-cream to his lips, his green eyes eagerly fixed themselves on both blonds. His stomach was churning in excitement and he tried to suppress it, but he simply couldn't.
Scorpius collected his ice-cream and thanked Mr. Diggles primly. The younger boy was about to exit the shop, but his father steered him gently to a small table. Bending down and whispering something to Scorpius's ear, Draco let his eyes flicker rapidly to Harry. Scorpius's inquisitive gaze followed his father's, landing on Harry, who was choking unceremoniously on ice-sodding-cream.
The flock of dainty butterflies that had been flitting so gaily around Harry's insides had morphed into large, screeching, flapping seagulls now. The brunette stared disbelievingly as Draco's hot, raspberry-pink tongue descended onto his son's vanilla ice-cream before swiping a large, disintegrating chunk into his mouth, his hawkish eyes never once leaving Harry's quizzical face. Creamy, alluring drops of thick vanilla dripped from his bottom lip, and Harry could feel his erection about to explode in his pants.
The ex-Slytherin gazed at his son, who was rolling his eyes good-naturedly and making a shooing motion with his hands. Draco started to exchange fast, furious words with a vehemently nodding Scorpius. However, Draco remained stock-still, his worried eyes never shifting from his son. Scorpius sighed deeply, got up from his seat and began to forcefully push his father towards the door. Letting a grin as rare as sunshine on a cold, wintry day split his lips, Draco veneers sliding off like clothes- ruffled his son's hair affectionately and pressed a kiss to his pale, unblemished forehead. Scorpius, in response, beamed adoringly up at his father.
Harry was sharply reminded of the second photo in the magazine; how candid, natural and refreshing Draco's face was when he was with his son. Suddenly, the brunette was jolted out of his recollections when the blond of his dreams swept majestically out of the parlor, his expensive cloak billowing grandly behind him. Harry felt his heartbeat slow down sadly to a regular rhythm; the adrenaline rush that Draco had given him for those short, blissful minutes had faded. He let disappointed green eyes wander to Scorpius, who was glaring urgently at Harry and jutting his chin towards the door. His arms were folded petulantly across his chest; his ice-cream lay melting and forgotten in front of him.
Harry didn't need any more advice. He immediately stood up, mumbled something about a stomachache and Flourish and Blotts later before stumbling to his feet drunkenly, accidently knocking over a table and flung himself out of the door. Scanning the view in front of him desperately, he saw a white-blond head bobbing through the thronging crowd of people. Picking up his pace, he sprinted the mating hunt, they call it- towards his quarry. The adrenaline was back and rippling addictively into every cell of his body. The rest of the world dissolved in his sight; his only goal was to shorten the distance between himself and the beautiful blond.
Draco abruptly made a sharp turn into Knockturn Alley. Harry followed and promptly careened into a witch whose arms were laden with groceries. Flicking his wand carelessly at the overturned produce, Harry continued his pursuit relentlessly. He was in Knockturn Alley, his body tingling with anticipation as he swiveled his head from side to side, eyes maniacally searching fuck I've lost him- for Draco.
Without warning, a strong, sinewy hand shot out from nowhere and yanked Harry into a dark, ominous corner. Draco Malfoy stood in front of him like some sort of delicious mirage. His grey eyes were like polished crystal, more striking, more forceful than Harry had imagined it could ever be. The dragon on his earlobe was snapping its jaws predatorily, its forked tongue undulating slyly between rows of sharpened, metal teeth. Its crimson, pillaging eyes glowed aggressively in the dim light of the dilapidated, squalid sleazy, filthy, cheap, fucking hot- alley.
Abruptly, Harry felt Draco's hand wrap around his wrist and pull it roughly towards the blond's crotch. Harry stifled a surprised, gagging cry when his hand automatically curled itself around Draco's pulsing, fully-clothed and erect cock. In that calculated, premeditated move, Draco had established himself as the domineering alpha oh yes- male of their relationship, and Harry was more than happy to oblige.
Lust-driven green eyes rolled back into his head in rapture as Draco, with his hand still on Harry's wrist, worked Harry's limp fingers up and down his own cock. Harry was a picture of submission, his chin jerked up in pure ecstasy, exposing a tan throat to Draco. Suddenly, Draco stopped, causing a mewl of loss to spill from Harry's lips. He gazed up confusedly at the taller man and bit his lip shyly. Did I do something wrong? Draco leant forward and growled like a hungry, snarling wolf into Harry's ear the name and address of a luxurious, indulgent hotel that Harry recognized and a date and time next week. Harry could only nod numbly before Draco gave a small, triumphant smile and glided victoriously out of the alley.
Harry had slumped down onto the dirty cobblestone tiles, his heart thudding crazily in his rib-cage. He pinched himself no, it's not a dream- and felt that the world had spun round on its axis during those scattered, sweet, stolen seconds.
His palms were clammy, his throat desert-dry. The week had passed in an arousing blur; other less… titillating events had been pushed right into the very back of his mind. Harry stood in the hotel hallway, a carpet as rich and thick as a field of corn underneath his feet. This hotel was fit for a king, and it made Harry shudder when he thought about how much it cost for Draco to rent a room for the night.
What night?! There will be no night! Harry had made his mind up to step in, tell Draco in a very firm and authoritative voice that he had three children to care for; therefore he had no time for such games. And also, there would be no stripping of any sort of clothing at all, thank you very much. No matter how naked or disheveled Draco could be right now in the room, Harry would resist his charms and-
When in Merlin's name did he get such a fucking hot, raging hard-on?
Tugging his shirt over his crotch, Harry took a deep breath to still his nerves nerves of steel, Harry, nerves of steel!- and twisted the gilded handle open.
The room was plunged in complete and total darkness except for a flickering candle that was placed on what looked like a study table. Blinking curiously to himself, Harry stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him.
As he let his eyes adjust to the blackness, the brunette padded over quietly to the only source of light in the suite; the candle. Several official-looking documents were neatly bound together in a non-descript file and a sleek, silver quill with a pure-white feather was hovering agitatedly over the pages, occasionally dipping down onto the papers to inscribe a meticulous, cursive take my heart, just sign over the dotted line- signature. Turning his head from left to right, Harry noticed that there didn't seem to be anyone else in the suite.
Well, it's not my fault if he doesn't bother to show up, he thought, breathing a sigh of relief.
Harry valiantly tried to ignore the way his heart dropped like a boulder at that revelation.
Suddenly, the quill paused in its animations and hung suspended in the air as though it had stopped working. Harry wrinkled his nose doubtfully and reached a hand out to touch the quill-
"Good evening, Potter." as sudden and pointed as a volley of darts-
Harry squawked and jumped out of his skin. Swiveling back sharply, Harry's wary green eyes focused unclearly on a lone figure sprawled out on the humongous bed that was behind him. With a casual flick of Draco's wand, the candle flew from the table to another small, elegant table which was created out of nothing but frosted glass. A bucket of ice, with a tall bottle of champagne propped up in it was situated on the same table. A single, empty champagne glass sat placidly beside the bucket.
Harry let his eyes whirl to Draco Malfoy, who was lounging majestically on the giant bed. Luxurious drapes the color of cool cream and blue hung loosely from the canopy of the four-poster. The clean, sterile-white covers were pulled back enticingly, revealing a barefoot Draco dressed completely in black. The flame of the candle danced sensually, casting a glowing aura on the left side of Draco's face. The other half, however, was shrouded mysteriously in darkness. Draco looked at Harry with grey and glittery eyes, skewering the brunette with his gaze. His demeanor betrayed no trace of emotion, and a wrong-footed Harry felt like the blond was inspecting him clinically and detachedly straight into the lion's den- like a crate of goods.
The stem of his half-filled champagne glass was balanced firmly between his middle and fourth fingers, and Draco's wrist was shifting slightly, causing the wine in his glass to tremble and slosh enchantingly. Harry felt his eyes, wide with childish bewilderment dart to the hypnotizing swirl of the burgundy beverage. His fists were clenched until he could feel his nails leave curved crescent-shaped markings on the flesh of his palm.
"Come and sit down, Potter. I'm sure you didn't expect me to invite you over just to gawk at me."
Draco's voice was lush and lyrical in the silent, musty air of the chamber and hurled straight to Harry's cock. Harry felt a catch in his throat as he squeaked back.
"Wha- what, on the bed?! Wi- with you?!"
In response, Draco gave Harry a withering look. Harry pursed his lips and stumbled over in trepidation, kicked off his footwear and sat stiffly on the bed, not allowing any part of his body near because if they touched, terrible, terrible things would happen- Draco. The blond hauled himself up into a sitting position, reached over gracefully and filled up Harry's glass with a sparkling dose of champagne. The seductive glug-glug sound reached Harry's over-sensitized ears and he bit his lip unsteadily. When he took the glass from Draco, he had paid extra attention to the blond's fingers, making sure that he didn't touch them at all.
The atmosphere was turbulent dessert or disaster- and awkward. Harry had his knees hugged to his chest protectively while his right hand clutched the wine-glass clumsily.
"Why so tense, Potter? I'm not going to rape you," Draco purred silkily, his aristocratic tongue rolling the r's alluringly. The words even though I know you want me to- hung unsaid in the air. Harry felt as if a quiver full of arrows had been lobbed simultaneously at him. Bloody hell, not even five minutes into conversation he's already mentioned sex! Harry cast around in his foggy mind for his carefully-rehearsed speech, but his command of the basic English language was failing him miserably. His heart galloped wildly like a herd of wild stallions, his cock thrummed with anticipation trying to act cool when I know I make you delirious- when he noticed Draco's eyes licking his body effortlessly and shamelessly.
Hoping to calm his jangling nerves, Harry took a swig of the fuchsia champagne. Suddenly, he felt that his senses were saturated and sharpened; the delicate aroma of Draco vanilla vanilla vanilla- wafted around his nostrils, his taste buds were tingling with the zest of the alcohol, the fact that Draco had scooted nearer to him in bed soared to the top of the muddle in his brain. He felt numb, then excited, then numb, then excited again.
"I heard that you got promoted in your job in the Ministry. Shall we toast to that?"
Draco's voice as addicting as sex itself- slithered bewitchingly to Harry, every rise and fall of inflection in Draco's sentence sucked Harry into a vortex. Harry's cloudy green eyes swiveled to Draco's orbs, which seemed to be a ferocious silver blaze.
"Drop the act, Malfoy. Both of us know what we want. You didn't bring me here to discuss about our jobs. Do whatever you want to me now, before I fucking come in my pants," Harry blurted out unwittingly. Immediately, Harry clapped a hand to his mouth. The alcohol seemed to have loosened his or is it because you want him as much as he wants you- tongue and his inhibitions immensely. Harry's eyes were wide and fearful as he dropped the wine-glass suddenly onto the white rug. The drink spilt out, seeping blood on semen- into the carpet, but Harry didn't notice it at all since Draco was like a matador coming in for the kill, touches of pink in his alabaster cheeks and his delicately moulded arms reaching towards the brunette.
Harry bleated weakly and began to back away from the ruthlessly advancing blond. Looking fervently to his right, he started to haul himself out of the web of temptation, but in a smooth, fluid motion, Draco had crossed the distance as easily as a snap of his fingers. His left hand buried itself mercilessly in Harry's hair, tugging at the short strands that were as black as liquorice. Draco was kneeling behind Harry as he jerked Harry's chin up, exposing his throat. Harry's drunken eyes immediately zoomed in on the dragon earring that was hissing predatorily, its thick, leathery tail wagging excitedly from side to side. Its scarlet, glowing eyes were narrowed and spitting with eagerness.
"Like the earring, Potter? Confuses my business competitors during meetings. Makes them… slip up, makes them say things that they wouldn't normally say. Want me to take it off, hmmm?"
"No!" But please, take off the rest of your clothes- Memories of the magazine cover came brimming over the surface like a pot of soup coming to boil, and Harry bit back a moan.
"Tell me what you were thinking of before you came in here."
"You!" Harry panted as his blood surged in his veins, his cock throbbing like a pneumatic drill.
"Do I make you come?"
"All the fucking time," Harry's words were emitted in clipped, staccato breaths when Draco began to run a finger up and down his throat, caressing Harry's Adam's apple, ghosting over his jaw-line back and forth. His very touch sent Harry's world exploding like a powerful fireworks display and the ex-Gryffindor thrust his hips up helplessly.
As though pleased with Harry's reaction, Draco relinquished his grip on Harry and began to undress himself. His fingers were like a blur as they scuttled down his buttons. That was all Harry needed; just a few seconds of respite before he began to shake his head.
"No, I can't, I'm married, I'm married!" He wailed, his tremulous voice high-pitched and loud, as though he had to practically convince himself that he was attached. Draco paused and tilted his head imperiously.
"The door is there, Harry. I'm here. Make your choice," the blond whispered gentleman to the backbone-, his tone low and neutral, displaying no vestige of emotion at all. Harry was clinging onto his sanity by the edge of his fingertips, his cock and his head was having a battle of epic proportions. Warnings clanged chaotically in Harry's head; Draco's body set him on fire the way Ginny never had, but yet, he had a duty as a father, as a husband, he couldn't be cheating… But Draco was so sexually scandalous and Harry cried out when his mind dredged up his numerous fantasies of Draco.
Maybe just one fuck, just one fuck is all I need to get it out of my system, and then I could crawl out of this place and forget about this-
Any caution that he had, he had thrown it out of the window when Draco locked eyes with Harry, his gaze as hot and black as burning tar.
"I want to have sex with you, Draco Malfoy," Harry murmured, intoxicated, ignoring the alarm bells shrilling in his head. It's not practical, not logical, why does he want me so much, we haven't communicated at all after Hogwarts- what the fuck who cares-
"Your wish is my command," Draco growled in reply before lunging at Harry like a python poised to kill.
we've burnt our fingers, now let's jump into the flames-
It was beyond Draco's wildest dreams. They were both fireballs in bed, nothing but bodies spiraling out of control and identical climactic cries and moans of desire and need mingling in the hot, sweaty air. He felt attracted to the brunette like iron fillings to a giant magnet. After the sex, Harry had blushed a bright red, turned over and promptly drifted off to sleep. Draco had stayed awake the whole time, admiring the contours of Harry's body, his bronzed skin soft and flushed, the virile energy in his passionate dark eyes. Draco had memorized every event and gasp that occurred for the past hour, scanning it into his retentive brain like a Muggle computer.
Draco didn't dare to go to sleep lest it was nothing but a cruel dream; instead, he had spent the past two hours touching a slumbering Harry all over. His fingers traced the domes of Harry's toes, sliding them up the sinewy muscles of his legs. He adored the way Harry's bow-shaped lips quirked up when he was dreaming, and he especially loved it whenever Draco's name was moaned and Harry's body would give a violent spasm. Draco treasured every second when the brunette was with him because he didn't know what would happen when he woke up.
I hope he… Draco wistfully started, before catching himself and shaking his head hard. Abruptly, Harry stretched expansively and cracked a bleary eye open. An expression of horror flashed across Harry's face as he immediately sat up, grabbed whatever clothes he could, and fled to the bathroom.
Draco froze while Harry escaped. Slowly, as though he was released from a spell, the blond blinked wearily and pressed the heels of his palms hard candy with a surprise center- into his sunken eyes. Sighing bitterly, he hauled himself up from the bed, his head hanging despondently.
The sex was just acceptable- oh, who are you kidding, Harry. The sex was bloody brilliant. He had no idea that someone could cause avalanches of this magnitude rocking through his trembling body. Dressed in his shirt and underwear, Harry was brushing his teeth so violently I can't believe I sucked his cock- that he could taste the blood leaking from his gums. He began to wash his face, scrubbing every pore with more force than was necessary, as though he could cleanse himself from Draco's touch.
He thought the blond would be rough and savage during sex, but to his pleasant surprise, Draco had actually been quite… gentle with him.
"It's alright, Harry… it won't hurt so much after a while, just bear with it…"
"Shhhhh… relax and it'll be fine…"
"No, please, please-"
"How does it feel now?"
"Don't stop, please-"
"Harder, Draco, I'm not fucking made up of glass-"
"Are you sure-"
Filthy nuggets of scenes breezed in his mind's eye like a perfect storm on a hot summer's day. Crumpling down to the cool marble tiles, Harry buried his head in his hands. Emotions of all sorts were thundering in his heart and it felt like an invisible hand had grabbed his guts and twisted. Guilt, self-loathing, anger, surprise, and just a tiny sliver of triumph and pride at having been fucked by Draco Malfoy who wants you so fucking much were just a handful of feelings churning uncontrollably in him.
No, this was the first and last time. He would go out with his head held up high, grab his remaining clothes and get the fuck out of here. He'd dress outside in the hallway; staying an extra second here was like staring temptation in the face. He got up, but not before his eyes landed on a humongous bath-tub resplendent with a frothy bath full of enchanted multi-colored bubbles. Crimson petals were scattered artistically over the foam, and Harry couldn't resist walking over to the tub and dipping a hand into the warm, welcoming, water.
Suddenly, he felt a jolt of lust shoot from the very tips of his fingers all the way down to his curling toes. He immediately withdrew his hand and gawked at the bath. This isn't normal, hotel rooms didn't have such colossal bath-tubs in them…
Casting his mind back, he had found it weird that all of the guests that got off this floor at the lift were all couples. Coupled with the large bath-tub and the flowers and the massive bed…
This is a honeymoon suite! Comprehension felt like a punch to Harry's gut. Scowling murderously, he had stormed out how dare he assume- of the bathroom, vituperation poisoned on the tip of his tongue when he-
Draco was sitting forlornly in front of the table, elbows planted staunchly on the table as he stared out into the dark night sky. The curtains were open, and a huge pale moon came up over the horizon, casting its path of milky light on Draco. Draco was distractedly flicking his wand in the air, and shimmery, silver powder shot out of its tip, and it seemed as though… Draco was writing Harry's name in thin air…
Harry did a double take before regaining this is all an act- his composure. Biting his lip, the tendons on his neck standing out with tension like rope cords, he crept stealthily towards the rest of his clothes, hoping that the other man wouldn't notice…
Yes! Harry had mentally cheered joyously when he sneaked towards the door and was just about to grasp the handle-
"Leaving so soon? I didn't know you were the type to fuck and run, Potter," Draco drawled flippantly, straightening up swiftly and stalking over to Harry.
"Is it money you want? How much does this honeymoon suite cost? I'll foot half of the cost," Harry snarled back, reaching for his wallet.
"Merlin, Potter, you've really been living under a rock, haven't you? I own this hotel," Draco blinked unbelievingly.
"As eloquent as always, I see. Haven't you been reading the news? Or maybe you can't read, hmmm? The world's at my fingertips, Potter. You know what they predict for me? They give me three years before I'll claw my way up to one of the top twenty most powerful men in the world. I think they're wrong." snapping, snarling dragon-
"Why? You'll take four years?"
"I'll have it done in two years or even less. I'll be living in the lap of luxury, building up my empire from scratch, making my name well-known in as many countries as I possibly can."
"And you are telling me this because…" Harry scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.
A flitter of annoyance surged in Draco's eyes, but he quickly parried Harry's comment with a suitably acerbic opening gambit. "Going home to play Happy Families again, aren't you? Let's see how you fuck Weasley after tonight, Potter."
"I don't need your pearls of sodding wisdom on my sex life, thank you. At least I've got a wife to fuck. Doesn't your son miss your wife, or is he as cold and heartless as you?" Harry whispered menacingly, taking a step closer to Draco, his fists balled up.
"Don't you dare mention my son with your filthy lips, Potter! Lips that were wrapped so willingly around my cock just now…" Draco teased, moving closer to Harry. As expected, Harry bridled and took the bait.
"Then lay off my family!" a riled up Harry had yelled, placing both hands firmly on Draco's chest and pushing him back. Suddenly, Harry felt a hand wrap around his erection. He blinked didn't even notice I was hard- in shock. Confused emerald eyes melded with triumphant grey orbs.
"Don't you know, Potter? Even when we're fighting, you get so fucking turned on." With that cryptic sentence, Draco's lips descended ruthlessly on Harry's, but the brunette dodged.
"No, I have to go home-"
Draco hissed like a boy whose toy was snatched- angrily before pushing Harry up against the door, grinding their erections together. Harry realized his body had been primed for sex during the argument; his legs were wobbling like liquid jelly, lust and desire pouring uncontrollably in his veins, eyes a mixture of pleading and desperation.
"Just one last kiss. One last kiss, and I'll let you leave scot-free. We'll forget that this ever happened," Draco breathed.
sealed with a kiss-
Harry eyed Draco distrustfully and narrowly, before pursing his lips uncertainly and closing his eyes. Swooping down eagerly, Draco covered Harry's mouth fully. Both of their tongues mingled hotly, vying for dominance. As expected, Harry surrendered, parting his lips for Draco's greedy tongue to slide claiming you as my own- between his teeth. Harry hissed in pleasure, his fingers hooking over the belt loops of Draco's pants.
Suddenly, just when Harry was enjoying the contact, Draco pulled away at the worst possible moment. Bowing shallowly to Harry, the blond withdrew, giving Harry free rein to the door.
"Wha- What? You… you didn't like that?" Harry stammered wildly as he felt the final rock of resistance disintegrate into fine dust.
"Oh no, I enjoyed that immensely. But you promised me one last kiss, and that is all that I will take. Good night, Potter," Draco proclaimed smooth silver liquid- grandly before turning away and walking towards the bathroom.
No, this couldn't be happening, Draco couldn't have given the fight up so easily! Harry panicked frantically. He could still feel Draco's skilful hands roaming voraciously on his body. Gritting his teeth, he tackled too much heat I'm gonna lose control- Draco to the ground.
"I was in the bath-tub when I was looking at your picture on a magazine. I jerked off to you. Shut up, Malfoy, shut the fuck up and fuck me hard tonight until I can't walk properly tomorrow," Harry demanded let your monster out so he can breathe- as he felt his body succumb shamelessly under Draco's expert ministrations. Draco felt an electric whizz course through his veins. Smirking victoriously to himself, the blond dragged Harry into the bathroom, the door slamming ominously behind them.
Outside, the candle flickered dolefully beside the bed. A harsh, chilly wind blew into the room through the windows. The flame flared sharply for a split second, before it quavered gloomily. The draught gave a deadly, final puff, and the fire was forlornly just like Harry and Ginny's marriage- extinguished.
That night, Harry had learnt a valuable lesson. When it came to Draco Malfoy, there was no such thing as one last kiss.
He was walking the tightrope like the grace and balance of an elephant. He was playing a game of Russian roulette with his family; the way his lies became his truths as he indulged in his other life that was hidden away from prying eyes. Harry learnt to destroy every shred of evidence incendios on letters- that threw suspicion to his illegal liaison make-up on love bites- with Draco Malfoy. He was skating on extremely thin ice, making sure that his features were schooled with real despair when he lied I'm really sorry, love, but there's this whole mountain of paperwork to go through, I'll only be home tomorrow morning- to Ginny. Justifications were made to himself daily I had sex with Ginny last week, it's Draco's turn this week- Ginny shouldn't have made me so angry-, and he knew that he could no longer look at himself into the mirror.
He felt like he was Draco's pawn in a chess game, a trussed up fly that was ubiquitous in the blond's carefully-crafted web of thrilling sex, deceit and carnality. Harry thought the passion would fade after a few weeks, or perhaps a month, but all of this walking on eggshells, skeletons lurking in the closet had continued for a year, and it was still going strong. His love for Ginny might have waned, but he had never shirked his responsibilities as a parent; he loved his three kids too much. Always the dutiful father, he remembered events such as birthdays; he spent at least one day per week together with his family.
Of course, Harry had tried to break it off whenever he looked at Ginny's hurt eyes no, sorry dear, I'm not coming back for dinner today-, but he couldn't. Yes, he would majestically strut out of Draco's arms, but the blond would always take him back when Harry returned after a torturous week, bawling desperately touchmefuckmepleaseIcan'tlivewithoutyou- for him. Harry was a condemned prisoner, shackled helplessly to Draco. His life no longer revolved plainly around his family and work; he had Draco to pull him out of the humdrum of daily life.
And he loved every minute of it. Draco was his dirty little secret that he had to conceal at all costs. He was taboo, fatal, forbidden; everything that Harry's moral fibre went against. In the past year, Draco had stuck true to his word and was climbing ruthlessly up the ladder of influence, wealth and prestige.
Draco Malfoy was hot property, and every witch wanted him, every wizard wanted to be him. Draco splurged carelessly on Harry all the time, wooing the brunette with expensive yeah a friend gave me this watch- and swanky gifts. And Harry fell for it hook, line and sinker. He needed Draco like how a fish needed water; whenever he wasn't with the other man, a physical ache would twist and tear in him. Every time, when Harry saw an article on Draco in the papers, he couldn't help but let a secret smile spread so wide until he felt like the bottom half of his face might drop off.
Most eligible bachelor?
And I'm fucking him.
Draco was like an ornately wrapped Christmas present that someone had given to him months early. Every time when he was with Draco, a thin, precious layer of the wrapping would peel off. But Draco was a complicated person; he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. He was an enigma to everyone else except Scorpius. Flashes of affection and sometimes hurt would ripple as fast as lightning across turbulent grey eyes, but Harry never felt like Draco was fully comfortable around him.
Their clandestine trysts were held at Draco's hotels whenever Scorpius was back for the summer holidays. When Scorpius was at Hogwarts, their rendezvous were in Malfoy Manor.
Harry always met these flings with a sort of unholy enthusiasm. One time, Draco had fucked him up against a wall in full public view at night, right beside a Muggle club. The heavy, loud, thumping music was like a voluptuous swell that suffused both their bodies, warming their veins. Draco had fucked him to the rhythm of the music. When Harry was about to come, the beat had suddenly slowed down to the speed of a funeral march. Harry had begged, pleaded please, I'm going to come, ignore the fucking music, wanna come now- Draco. But Draco had remorselessly ignored his yelps, prolonging Harry's orgasm to unbearable heights.
That was hands down the best fuck of Harry's life.
And currently, both halves of Harry's life are entwined dangerously close together, as close as they could possibly be. Draco Malfoy was right now in the Potters' marital bed, fucking the life out of Harry Potter.
Starburst after starburst exploded behind Harry's eyes as he was jolted back into the present. Draco was pressing moist kisses onto Harry's fingertips and the thin, delicate web of skin between thumb and forefinger. Draco's tongue, which was currently trailing the deep life-lines on Harry's palm, left hot molten bubbles of lava gurgling contentedly on Harry's flushed skin. His touches were sweet as though caressing the broken fragments of a treasured dream- and gentle. Harry sighed happily, threading his fingers through Draco's silky hair.
They were so engrossed in each other that they failed to detect the soft, tell-tale sounds of the door downstairs swing open and three raucous children clatter noisily in.
"Shhh, your dad's sleeping his headache off," Ginny Potter cautioned her children as all four of them tugged off their coats and shoes.
"Do you think Daddy will like the new broomstick that you bought for me, Mummy?" Lily whispered, her small hands lovingly stroking the handle of her new Starfire 3000.
"I think he'll love it," Ginny reassured, bending down to straighten her daughter's skirt. The second James had entered the house; he had dumped all his bags unceremoniously on the floor, and fished out a pack of candies. He began to walk towards the kitchen, but his path was blocked by Albus.
"Wanna see the jokes that I got from Uncle George?" the thirteen-year-old boy offered hopefully, holding up his loot temptingly.
"Maybe later," James muttered shortly, neatly side-stepping around Albus.
Lily saw her brother's face fall. It was already bad enough that Honeydukes was closed today; Albus absolutely adored that place. Trotting over to Albus, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Wanna go flying? I want to test my new broomstick."
Albus blinked dejectedly before nodding at his sister.
"Mummy can I show Daddy my new tricks? I promise I'll be quiet, and if he's sleeping I'll go away."
Ginny wrinkled her nose hesitantly and nodded. "Only if he's awake."
Albus beamed brightly and slowly tip-toed up the staircase. Suddenly, he stopped. Why was there… moaning? Oh no, was Daddy in pain? Had he been moaning away ever since the bunch of them went out? Well, this meant that Daddy wasn't sleeping, so he could be as noisy as he liked. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he increased his pace towards his parents' bedroom and flung the door open ungraciously.
The sight that greeted him was something that he had never seen before. His father's tan, bronzed thighs were wound athletically round a pair of foreign, pale, muscular buttocks like tentacles of an octopus. Albus stared no, this isn't right, Daddy's supposed to be alone, who is- Merlin, is that… is that a man?! Was that man hurting his father?!
He felt the scene blur no, if he was hurting Daddy then Daddy would be hitting him, this isn't right, isn't right!- in front of his eyes and he suddenly realized that he was crying. The jokes that he was holding in his hand didn't seem that funny anymore and he let go. The bundle thumped loudly on the floor, but Albus didn't hear it, he could only hear those hated moans; their groans tearing like barbed wire into his skin.
Both men immediately swiveled around, their horrified eyes landing on Albus, who was crumpled down to the ground, sobbing his little heart out.
A/N: Thanks for sticking with me throughout this chapter. I honestly didn't expect it to be so long, especially horny!Harry. /grin
Ch 2 will be up in roughly a week, maybe a bit longer since school is getting rather hectic.