An Entirely Different Awakening

There was something tickling the back of Harry's neck. He groaned and shifted forward. For a few blissful moments, he was free from the sensation. Then it came back. He groaned again, fighting towards full wakefulness. Frowning, he realised it was air. Softly over his neck in a specific rhythm, it was someone's breath. His eyes flew open.

The room was still dark, and he blinked in confusion. Everything was fine for a moment, then everything spun. With another groan, he pressed his head back against the pillow, shifting back into the warmth behind him. There was a sound of annoyance, and then he noticed an arm around him as it tightened.

Merlin save him. Who had he taken to bed with him?

As he turned back his mind to the night before, he could only remember snatches. He hadn't wanted to go to the party at Theo's, but Neville had insisted. Those two were alarmingly close, suspiciously close. He suspected they were shagging, but Neville hadn't said anything. Harry breathed deeply, trying to remember. Ron had told him not to drink too much, he wished he had listened.

Snatches came to him, hands on his body, a mouth at his neck. Merlin, being held tightly and shagged deeply and slowly. Remembering, he flushed. He hadn't had a shag like that in a while. As he took stock of his body, he felt a pleasant ache, one that told of a long night indeed. The body behind him shifted, and lips brushed against the back of his neck. There was a sleepy rumble, the arm tightened its hold on him again, and then all was still.

There had only been three wizards at the party who had caught his eye. However, for each man, there was a reason it could not be him. Zabini was notorious for speaking loudly of his shags, and Harry still tried to avoid his sex life making the papers wherever he could. Jacobs was dating someone, and Harry knew better than to shag someone from an opposing Quidditch team anyway. Never mind that Jacobs spent a lot of time with his eyes firmly fixed on Harry's arse, or that Harry sometimes shamelessly flirted back after their teams clashed on the pitch. He'd never cross that line. That other bloke he'd noticed was a complete stranger, and Harry's fame stopped that from even being a viable option.

Harry groaned. More flashes came back, but he already knew. He didn't need flashes of blond hair and the feel of a scarred chest under his tongue to know. Three blokes had caught his eye. Three, because he never allowed himself to consider the fourth. His attraction to the snarky git was still as unacceptable all these years after Hogwarts as it had been in their awful final year. He'd spent the better part of that year discovering his attraction for men, and one irritating bastard in particular. Everyone had noticed, he wasn't blessed with subtlety. The git himself had taunted Harry about it, even though they'd had a truce.

Harry reached under the blankets and skimmed his hand along the arm that held him. There was that damn ring the git wore, displaying his family crest like it was something to be proud of. Groaning, Harry tried to move away, but the arm tightened again. Warm air gusted over the back of his neck, accompanied by a whining sound, and a forehead pressing against him. Harry cringed and closed his eyes. It was everything he'd wanted from the bastard, back in their last year.

Instead, they'd snogged themselves silly after the leaving feast, wanked each other off in a storage closet, and then passed out half naked in the common room. He still flushed with embarrassment when he remembered the next morning. Ron had found them, and he had not been quiet about it. Of course, the prat was more aware than most about Harry's pining after the blond bastard. His teasing had woken the Slytherin, who had then snapped something scathing. Everything had escalated quickly, and then Harry had stormed off, embarrassed and hurt by what the git had said. They had all left later that day, before he could catch sight of the Slytherin again.

Over the years that followed, as he'd only built on his fame by playing Quidditch, he'd managed to avoid the blond git. That didn't make him forget. Really, it wasn't so surprising. He'd noticed the Slytherin the moment he'd walked into Theo's ballroom. He'd looked just as good as the last time Harry had seen him. Seven years, and Harry had been immediately flooded with images of that night. That drunken snog and sloppy hand jobs in that storage room never did fade to the back of his mind.

The git had managed to be both his best and worst sexual experience, and that infuriated him. Best because it was his first, and no matter how much he'd wanted to take it back, no matter how much Ron had teased him, he couldn't forget it. He didn't really want to. The Slytherin had kissed him like it meant something, like he was trying to consume him, and be consumed by him. They'd snogged in the halls, then in that storage room. Gasping for air and grappling with clothes, it had been like some desperate dance. Clutching at each other, touching each other, Harry had called him by his name, the one he wasn't supposed to use.

Wincing and trying to push the thoughts from his mind, Harry tried to pull away again, but the git's grip was still strong. How had they even found their way to Harry's bed? Another drunken grope in some out of the way room at Theo's Manor would have made more sense. Merlin, he hated that he'd had too much to remember clearly. He'd managed to avoid the git for almost seven years, only catching glimpses of him from afar. It helped that Harry had avoided being drawn into those social circles.

Then, they were face to face in that ballroom. Harry had suddenly felt eighteen years old again, coming too soon, and gasping a name that really shouldn't have felt so good rolling off his tongue.

Bumping into Harry in the crowd, the blond had just looked down his nose at him, and immediately Harry had bristled. Perhaps that was why he'd had so much to drink. Trying to forget the way the Slytherin made him feel was a favourite pastime of his. Trapped in that room with him, alcohol had probably seemed like a good idea. He should have learned from Hogwarts that the two of them drinking never ended well.

Forcing himself back to the present, and the man in his bed, Harry groaned again. There was no avoiding it, he'd have to wake him up to get free. No matter how good that shag had been, and Merlin, he wished he could remember all of it, rather than just arousing snapshots; he did not want to deal with that barbed tongue again. Building his resolve, he shifted and managed to turn. Another sleepy rumble sounded, and he was pulled impossibly closer.

All at once, his face was pressed into a neck that smelled so good he just wanted to forget why it was a bad idea to slip a hand down, and give him a proper awakening.

"I was wondering when you were going to try and make your escape."

The words rumbled through the chest Harry was pressed against, and he flushed. "Bollocks," he hissed. The git was awake.

"Don't you 'bollocks' me, Potter! You dragged me home to your bed, not the other way around."

"How long have you been lying there awake, Malfoy?"

There was a sleepy chuckle, and Harry closed his eyes against how good it sounded. Merlin, why did the git have to be so bloody attractive?

"Oh, it's 'Malfoy' again, is it?"

Harry flushed. 'Draco' fell too easily from his tongue ever since that first time in that damn storage room, and he hated it.

"Come now, Harry," Draco said, pushing him onto his back, and sliding their bodies together, "you were saying such lovely things last night, as you moaned my name."

"Malfoy, just bec—"

"'Draco'. Call me by my name, Harry."

Harry glared up at him, but Draco only smiled down at him, still infuriatingly attractive. Even though he had probably been awake ever since Harry was trying to move away, tightening his arm to trap him there, he still looked sleepy. It was a good look, Harry thought, scowling. His grey eyes looked warm and softened from sleep, looking down at Harry with what almost looked like fondness.

"You make my name sound good," Draco murmured, leaning closer.

Their lips met, and Harry thought it would be a really good time to push the git away. But he didn't. It was Draco, and he was powerless against him. For all that he hated his attraction to the git, he was hopeless around him. It was a burning, deep desire. Draco was the first person he'd ever been with, and the first person he'd ever really wanted to go to bed with. He'd always wondered what might have happened, had Ron not woken them that morning, and they had been allowed to wake slowly and gently.

Draco was kissing him softly, slowly. Harry slid his hands up his back, one curling into his hair, and the other clutching at his shoulder. Peppermint was bursting over Harry's tongue as Draco deepened the kiss, and Harry made a startled sound. The sneaky git had cast a breath freshening charm. He broke their mouths apart and looked up at him, confused.

That spoke of a plan. The git had planned to kiss him. He'd stayed, and waited for Harry to wake up, and then he'd kissed him. That didn't fit with Harry's expectations, and he couldn't find the right words to ask what Draco thought he was doing. There was an ache in his chest; the one he tried to ignore when he thought of how he'd felt, knowing he'd had Draco, only to lose him the very next morning. It hurt to find himself in that situation again.

"You look confused," Draco said softly. He leaned closer again, brushing their lips together gently, but not kissing him. "Did you think I'd run away?"

Harry blinked up at him, horribly aware of the entire length of him, resting on him, comfortably heavy. Their lips brushed together again, and Harry couldn't help but lean up into it. Draco made a pleased sound, kissing him once, then nibbling on his lip and sucking gently. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"It doesn't seem like you want me to leave," Draco murmured, nosing down his jaw.

"Who in their right mind would want you to leave?" Harry said breathlessly, thoughtlessly. Draco had settled his mouth just under his jaw, and was sucking gently. It was very distracting.

"You had a different opinion in school," Draco said, kissing lower, dipping his tongue into hollow of his collarbone.

Harry felt his face flush. School was the last thing he wanted to talk about. The things that had been said to him, about him, following Ron finding them... it wasn't something he liked to dwell on. Needless to say, everyone was very aware of Draco being Harry's first male experience. Ginny had hedged questions, playing coy so they all thought that maybe Harry hadn't been so completely inexperienced when he and Draco had drank themselves silly. He loved her for it, but Harry was sure Draco had known anyway.

"You were an absolute arse," Harry snapped, suddenly pushing at him. "Get off me!"

Draco didn't move, and stayed there with his face in the crook of Harry's neck, his every breath making him shiver.

"I was scared."

Harry stopped trying to push him away. "What?"

Draco inhaled sharply, but didn't move. "I was scared, Harry," he said. "We were drunk, we had spent years hating each other. If Weasley hadn't found us, maybe I would have reacted better. But he did find us. I wasn't out, I wasn't ready to admit how much I wanted you. I panicked, and I spoke without thinking."

Harry blinked stupidly at the ceiling.

"I don't want to walk away again," Draco continued softly, his lips brushing against Harry's throat with every word, "not unless you really want me to. I could tell I hurt you, when I said those things about you, in front of Weasley. I'm sorry, I was scared. I regret it."

Harry exhaled slowly. There was shaky, jittery feeling waking up behind his ribs and he tried to kill it. Being with the Slytherin that night had been the culmination of months of longing, only to have it thrown in his face the next morning, in front of Ron. Merlin yes, it had hurt. He'd avoided the git for years, waiting for the desire to fade. He'd had casual shags, but never been able to settle down because he was always wondering what might have happened if Ron hadn't been there that morning. Even while drunk he'd picked up on desire and longing from the Slytherin that night, although the way he'd gasped his given name had helped too.

"It's been years. Shouldn't you be over it by now?" Harry asked coldly.

Draco shuddered, and pulled away. Harry felt cold as Draco found his knees, settling over him, but still not leaving. The motion made the sheets fall, and Harry was suddenly faced with just how naked they were. His eyes traced the scars that he'd tongued the night before, and he flushed. Draco had made desperate, soft sounds the whole time, and Harry had come completely undone.

"I probably should be," Draco said softly, eyes scanning his face. "So should you. But you're not, are you?"

Harry flushed and averted his eyes. Merlin, how he wished he could deny that. The Slytherin had wormed his way under his skin from the moment they'd met, and he'd never left. Fooling around before leaving school had only changed the focus of their obsession with each other, but it would have still been there, even if they had never come gasping in each other's arms that night.

"What do you want me to say, Draco?" Harry asked tiredly. "You knew I wanted you before we even got drunk. You'd spent months taunting me about it. You knew what your words would do to me."

Draco trailed his fingers over Harry's chest, making him shiver. He wished the blond would leave, but he also desperately wanted him to stay. His former longing was rearing its head again, loud and impossible to ignore. He couldn't remember all of their shag, but the flashes he did remember sent heat through him, and not just lust. He remembered being held, gently but tightly. Being shagged slowly and deeply as he knelt by the bed, gripping the edge and pressing his face into it; it had felt like it meant something. He remembered his name, whispered with feeling.

None of that should matter, though. They didn't even know each other anymore.

"We fell into bed together for a reason," Draco replied. "You were the one who pulled me back here, to your home. If there was nothing between us, if you were truly so hurt by what I did in Hogwarts, this wouldn't have happened."

"You were the first person I'd ever been with," Harry said, unable to stop himself. "It meant something to me, even if we were drunk. I'd wanted you for months, and you knew it. You threw it in my face."

"You were my first, too."

Harry stared up at Draco, barely even believing him. He'd been so embarrassed by how quickly he'd come to the touch of Draco's hand, he hadn't really paid attention to the fact Draco didn't last long either.

"I didn't throw it in your face."

Draco looked sad, and it made Harry feel bad, even though he knew it shouldn't. Merlin, what the bloody hell were they doing? They'd had too much to drink, made it to Harry's house, and shagged. Why couldn't Draco just leave? Why couldn't Harry want him to?

Draco was still sitting astride his hips, the sheets pooled around his waist, but not hiding anything. Harry raked his eyes over him, unable to stop himself. Where Harry was all hard lines and dark skin, Malfoy was pale and soft. The look of him, slim but filled out, made him want to reach out and touch. Seven years, and he still wanted him more than anyone else. He'd shagged plenty of attractive blokes over the years. Still no one compared to the pale, flawed man atop him now.

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I know being scared is no excuse, but I at least wanted to tell you, even if you still kick me out."

Harry sighed, and looked away again. He really should kick him out. But, he already knew he wasn't going to.

"What are you suggesting then? If I don't kick you out?" he asked, still not looking at him.

Merlin, he was a fool for this.

"There's something between us," Draco said, drawing Harry's eyes again, "there always has been. It's not just attraction and lust. You were hurt when I said those things to you, and you had to have felt something for that. And last night…last night wasn't a casual, drunken shag, Harry."

"I don't remember it all," Harry admitted, ignoring the rest. There was no point denying it; they both knew it was true. Neither did he want to confirm it.

"Pity," Draco said, a smile twitching the corner of his lips, though he looked unsure. "It was something."

Harry flushed. From what he did remember, it certainly was. Merlin, he'd only been shagged like that a handful of times, when he'd tried and failed to commit, to be with someone for more than just a few weeks.

"Do you want me to leave?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry met his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head. He knew he should say yes, that he should let him walk away, but he just couldn't. He'd always wondered what would have happened if they'd been allowed to handle that morning after on their own, without Ron putting his foot in it.

Maybe they'd never work. Maybe there was too much between them. Maybe they'd burn bright and hot, and Harry would fall hard, and then crash hard. Still, it was worth trying, just so he would know.

"No," he said, feeling open and vulnerable, just like that morning at Hogwarts.

Draco smiled softly, and leaned over him again. Harry didn't wait for him, but reached up and pulled him down, pressing their lips together. He didn't kiss softly and slowly like Draco had; he kissed with fire and passion. He wanted to make him tremble, if only because then he could say he himself was trembling from desire, and not a nervous fear of all the ways they could go wrong.

Far too soon, Draco pulled back. He was looking dazed, surprised, hopeful. Harry felt another quivering feeling under his ribs, and realised he was still afraid of what Draco might say, but also hoping he would stay.

"What next?" he found himself asking.

Draco looked startled, like he hadn't thought that far. Something about that made Harry relax. Draco sat back again, smoothing his hands over Harry's chest, thinking. Harry brought his hands to the tops of his thighs where they were splayed apart on either side of him. Shivering, Draco caught his hands and pulled them away.

"How about breakfast?" he said.

Harry frowned. "You want to go eat, when we could stay in bed?"

Draco looked unsure, and the sight once again comforted Harry. It was good to know he wasn't the only one in a vulnerable position, with the ability to be hurt.

"I was thinking we should do this the right way," Draco said slowly. "Not that the sex last night wasn't fantastic, but you don't even remember it. Let me take you out for breakfast."

"I remember bits and pieces," Harry said, blushing again at the memory of the way Draco had shagged him.

"Even so," Draco said, "it's been seven years since Hogwarts. All I know of you is what I read in the papers, and get from Theo and Neville."

"You know more than me," Harry replied, a little petulantly. It really was his own doing, having avoided him as best he could. Still, he was at a disadvantage.

"So get to know me," Draco said with a smile. "Get dressed, and let's go get breakfast."

Harry sighed, and nodded. The more the git mentioned breakfast, the more his stomach was starting to rumble. Draco looked relieved, and moved off him, searching about for his clothes. Harry stopped, a thought occurring to him.

"You should borrow something," he said. "If we go out with you in last night's formal robes then—"

"Everyone already knows," Draco said, cutting over him. "Merlin, you really don't remember much, do you?"

Harry felt himself grimace. "What did we do?"

Draco chuckled, having located his clothes, he started pulling them on. He didn't respond, and glared down at the crinkles. Spying his wand poking out from under Harry's dresser, he retrieved it and cast a charm that made his robes look freshly pressed. Harry scowled at being ignored, but took the hint and got dressed himself. Once they were done, Draco stepped close, surprising him. The kiss was over before Harry even had a chance to reciprocate.

"You were incredibly drunk, and you fixated on me very fast," he said quickly. "I was no better. I'm surprised you don't appear to have a hangover."

Harry winced at what the papers were going to look like. His head was still hurting, but it was easy to ignore with everything they'd been discussing.

"How bad is it?" he asked. "Are we going to get mobbed?"

Draco laughed. "Afraid of your adoring fans?" he asked. "Don't worry, I left the room once you started harassing me, and you followed. Most of what we did was away from the party."

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Most?"

"You grabbed me and snogged me before we left the ballroom."

Harry sighed, that wasn't so bad.

"Then you got angry because I wouldn't stop being 'so damn attractive'."

"Oh Merlin," Harry groaned. "I didn't."

Draco chuckled, ushering him towards the door. Harry scowled at being manhandled, but allowed it. He rather needed a strong coffee now.

"You did, but then I said something about how I couldn't stop thinking about you, and the way you said my name," Draco said, sounding embarrassed, but also amused. "I was a lot drunker than I should have been, I admit. I was also more affected by seeing you up close again than I would have liked. I think that makes us rather even."

Harry groaned as they walked to the front door.

"Ron's going to be unbearable," he said.


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