Like every morning, the alarm clock went off at seven. Harry flopped onto his side and groped for his wand; he found it and sent the clock flying across the room in one fierce swish. It broke, of course, but at least the noise had stopped.

He stuffed his face into the pillow to return to that dream involving Oliver Wood's calves, but found himself jerked back to the present. Quite literally. His lover had placed his arms around Harry's middle and yanked him backwards so that Harry's bottom was snug with his crotch. Normally, Harry would think it cozy to wake up in such a position, but he would catch no winks like this. And Harry liked his winks.

"Would you mind?" he murmured.

The reply: a snore.

Bull, Harry thought. After two years, he knew his lover's sleeping habits. The first thing he did when he woke up was plead for morning sex, which he normally got, mind, but that didn't mean Harry was going to let the bastard think he was in charge around here.

"What I meant, Draco, was get the fuck off me."

"Don't want to."

"The clock went off."

"Yeah, I heard you destroy it. Poor thing."

"We should buy a quieter one."

"Perfectly sensible, having a quiet alarm clock."

"Right, then. Go get one."

"Too comfortable."

It made Draco feel good, he supposed, knowing that he could have whatever he wanted at this hour; he ignored Harry's command, and pressed his nude thighs right against Harry's. Harry's vision was blurring with sleepiness, and as his eyelids drooped Draco's teeth grazed the back of his neck. Out of habit, he pushed back against the penis sliding along split of his bottom; Harry felt it filling with heat through the cloth of his shorts. A hand went down Harry's torso and flattened on his stomach, holding him in place as Draco kissed his shoulder and neck. Hairs stood up. Breath became quicker.

"Turn over," Draco rumbled. "Touch me."

"Too tired."

He tickled his fingers along the hairs of Harry's stomach, downward as they became thicker and darker, downward as they ceased abruptly and bare warm flesh became abundant; he held Harry's cock and balls.

"Not true," Draco said. "You want it."

"Would rather sleep."

"Liar," he whispered, nuzzling his cheek on Harry's skin.

Ooh, stubble. Harry liked stubble.

It excited him to think of Draco's thighs clenching in anticipation, the dirty sweat collecting on his hairline, the strong hands pinching, the teeth grinding, but very important. If they hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time last night doing what Draco was trying to initiate now, maybe then Harry would be in the right state to commit to this; but even when Draco was reaching over his body for the lube on the beside table, even when he stopped in mid-reach to tongue Harry's nipple, Harry was seduced at the thought of enjoying the bed in a more traditional way.

"Malfoy, I want to sleep."

Draco stopped tonguing. He huffed; his cold breath shriveled Harry's nipple. His teeth began to click loudly, sounding rather like game of marbles. He drummed his fingers on Harry's ribs. In Draco's neck, a vain throbbed and bulged. Draco's cock twitched.

Then, all of a sudden, he snuggled behind Harry again.

"Scoot over," he whined.

"Can't," Harry said, letting his head sink into the pillow. "You're pushing me off the bed."

"I wouldn't if you didn't hog all the blankets."

"I have little more than the edge of a sheet, whereas you've got everything else."

"Well, who asked you? Besides, I catch cold easily."

"Why don't you catch cold in a separate bed?"

"Merlin, you're always complaining! I'm the great Harry Potter, so I can't let anyone have a decent night's sleep-"

"Please, go to sleep."

"Oh, I'm Harry Potter! I can't let anyone get their rocks off if I'm not in the mood-"


"Maybe I don't want to sleep. Maybe I want to bugger you."

"Pull yourself off, if you're so horny."

A moment passed, and Draco did nothing. It seemed that Harry would finally be getting his sleep, a satisfying prospect, but just as he was slipping away a huge atrocious ringing filled the air. Damn it all.

"Clock's not broken," Draco announced.

Harry growled. He flipped the covers off his body and pushed himself up.

"Wait," Draco said, grabbing his arm. "It's cold."

Harry ignored him, taking his wand off the nightstand and looking around for the offender.

There! Sitting innocently on the floor as if Harry hadn't done away with it!

He charged forward.

The clock hopped up on its tiny brass legs and scuttled under the bed. But...!

Harry whipped around.

"You spelled the clock again, Malfoy!" he shouted over the alarm.

"Well, you always shut it off and go back to sleep! Someone's got to be responsible."

"Responsible my arse..." Harry muttered, pushing up the blankets and burrowing under the bed. "Can't keep his mind off his prick for one day...makes us late for work every morning...never even lets me choose which position we-aha!"

There was nothing but darkness and the peppery scent of dust under the bed, but the earsplitting volume of the alarm made it easy to locate. No use blindly shooting charms only to have them backfire in his face: Harry felt around with his left hand. He touched cold metal. Just as he was closing his grip, the clock slipped away again.

"Catch this thing," Draco said loudly. "It's driving me mad."

"I'm going to hex you, Malfoy," he replied, emerging. He rumpled the dust out of his hair, watching Malfoy lounge with his arms behind his head. "And then I'm going to hex your family and friends."

"Could you start with my mother? What a cunt. Look, the clock's over there-sick it!"

What? Oh! There it was, cowering in the corner, still ringing. Strangely enough, it reminded him of a dog with its tail between its legs. But even dogs didn't make this much noise!

Harry lifted his wand.

The clock rang in horror.

"Kill it already, Potter!"

Draco's voice caught the clock's attention. It turned.

Draco's eyes became round.

"Why is it looking at me?" he asked.

But the clock was moving again. It sprinted for the bed. Harry assumed it would delve under, like before, but just as he was getting onto his knees, the clock bypassed the bed and began climbing up the drawers of the nightstand.


So it thought it was hot stuff! It thought Harry wouldn't curse it if it was near Draco!

Think again, fucker.

"What's it doing?" Draco shrieked, flinging the covers off his legs.

He was not fast enough to escape the threat of the clock. It took a flying leap for him.

Ready, aim-

"Dirumpti!" Harry cried, and the clock promptly burst.


Oops. Hadn't meant to get Draco's head. Well. At least the clock was now in hundreds of pieces.

"Er," said Harry, fumbling for words in the silence. "Sorry?"

"What have you done, you prick?" Draco shouted. "My hair! It's ruined!"

"It's fine. Er. Yeah."

Actually it looked comical. The intact half of Draco's hair was white-blond, while the other half, including his face, was coated in what looked to be soot. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"You think this is funny?" Draco said, grabbing his head like he was trying to make sure it was still on his neck. "I nearly died!"

"You're not even bleeding."

"That's not the point! I...oh, dear Merlin..."

A chunk of coal-black hair came out in Draco's fingers. The part of his face not covered in soot went pink. He hurled himself off the bed and into the bathroom, declaring, "I'll kill you, Potter!"

The door was audibly locked.

Harry tucked his fingers under the elastic band of his shorts, willing his smile away as he undressed. Well, he thought, now he was awake.

"How am I supposed to go to work looking like this?" he heard from the bathroom.

"Say you had a floo accident."

"And make myself look even more idiotic?"

"Nothing new."

"You're dead meat. When I get out of here, you're dead-meat."

Finally, Harry couldn't contain his laughter. He imagined he looked like a right lunatic, cackling in his bedroom with his shorts around his ankles. But at least he didn't look like Malfoy.