Indulge In Me
Slughorn was a bloody moron.
Not only was he fat and smelled constantly of the asininely sweet crystallized pineapple his fat arse insisted on being bribed with, but he talked with his mouth full and allowed the filling to spray from his mouth as if his young students had asked to be showered with diabetes rain. The man – appearing more walrus than man as he molded himself into the giant armchair that fit around him like a mitten would a bludger – slowly raised a hand, red and bloated, to one of his chins to stroke as he considered the proposition and the box of sugary bribes before him.
"I must admit, Mister Malfoy," the man huffed harshly, breathing heavily just from the strain of breathing heavily. "You do have a rather impressive resume. I know firsthand of your knowledge and skills in the art of creating potions. However, I also know your history."
Draco tried hard to keep his face a neutral as possible as he lowered his left arm from his former professor's gaze. "I know, sir, but I am hoping that, with your support and recommendation, I can convince you – as well as others – that I fully realize the repercussions of my actions and have suffered severely for them."
"Yes, yes, news of your mother's passing was in all the papers," the older man replied gruffly with a dismissive wave of his hand as his other reached for candies Draco had suddenly wished he had poisoned. "It has been twelve years and I don't see why now anyone's opinion of you should change."
"That's exactly it, sir, it has been twelve years. Twelve years of my work in St. Mungo's. Twelve years of my research. Twelve years of my inventions. I have dedicated more than a decade of my time to help the world of wizards –"
"A world that you almost helped to destroy," the man interrupted after making a noise that sounded of a cough, a hiccup, and a belch all at once. "There are many that have not forgiven your family."
"I know, but right now … my son and I are the only members of my family." Slughorn's eyes, small, clouded, and watery with age turned downcast, so the Slytherin in Draco decided to ride the guilty emotion for all its worth. "I don't want him to suffer from my sins."
The old man nodded and stared down at the golden cube he held in his palm, dusting his skin with its sugar.
"I'll send a letter to the ministry as soon as possible," he promised.
"Harry … please … Oh, God!"
Ron Weasley stood patiently in the hallway, his hands safely in his pockets and preventing him from knocking on the door … or punching it down, whatever.
"Aaaaaaaaaah, yes! … More! More!"
The redhead began to whistle, anything to drown out some of the sound … Either that or a mirror and quick Avada Kadavra.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh –" Seriously, nothing is that damn good! "– oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-OH-OH-OOOOOOOOOH-OH-AAAAH-YES-YES-YES-YES-yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesye – Harry!"
A final thump and silence.
Thank the Lord.
A few lazy groans and whispers. Clothing rustling, muted curses, and the Chosen one appears; hair mussed more than usual, healthy glow in his cheeks, lazy smile, lazy hooded eyes, lazy I-just-got-fucked gait, and an inside out shirt.
"Mate, at least pull on your robes so that you don't look like a complete idiot," Ron suggested, his face scrunched up in feigned disappointment as he shook his head at the other man. Harry chuckled and swung the robes that had been fisted in his hand over his shoulder and strolled at the hotel room's doorway with all the swagger of a seventies pimp … A really drunk one. Ron pulled one of his friend's arms over his shoulder and helped the other man along. "Don't make me go through this again, Harry."
"Sorry," the brunet grumbled, smiling slightly at the ugly, almost-paisley pattern on the carpeted floor.
"Bye, Harry," a small voice from behind them said and, as Ron swung them back around to face, he had to admit, the guy was really, really pretty. He wiggled fingers tipped with light blue nail paint at the pair and smiled before turning back into the room and giving them a view of a small, firm, naked backside before the door slammed shut.
Ron turned his head to look at the man he was supported and allowed himself the extra effort of shrugging just to make a point. "He was alright, but did you really have to make me wait like that."
"Well, I flooed you forever ago," Harry whined as the pair walked down the narrow hallway, avoiding walls and the things that hung from them. "And you were taking so long and you're all like 'don't apparate' and then he was sitting there being all cute and he askedforit, Ron. Such a naughty boy he was …"
"Don't need to hear it. Married-married-married!" the redhead chanted automatically.
"I think I'm going to throw up."
"Why did you wait until, you know, I got here to do that, you bastard?"
"Don't worry, I swallowed it."
"Eww …" Ron replied just as they staggered to the elevator and it opened to reveal a rather peeved brunette. "Hello darling. Got him!"
"What took you so long?" Hermione asked, her amber eyes quickly scanning up and down Harry as if checking for missing limbs. "I've been waiting in the lobby for almost thirty minutes now."
"He decided to revisit the land of ass," Ron explained and Hermione frowned at him. "Well, he did!"
"Goodness, Harry, when are you going to stop doing this?" she asked as she took her friend's free arm.
"When firewhiskey and ass grow wings and fly to me every night," the man chuckled, giving the brunette a sloppy kiss on her forehead, just under her curly bangs. "He was hot … you should have seen him and his dick –"
"Alright, Harry! Married-married-married!" Hermione sang suddenly and Ron began to laugh softly. "What?"
"Nothing … I just love you," the redhead replied.
Hermione smiled and blew him a kiss across Harry. "I love you, too."
"Aww," Harry sighed softly.
"Where do we take him now?" Ron asked his wife and Hermione looked away for a moment as she thought about it.
"Well, I guess we need to get him a potion so he can situate himself," she replied. "Does he have any at home? Uh, his home?"
"I can't feel my big toe!" the brunet giggled.
"Not with the week he's had, no, I don't think so," Ron said, shuffling his shoulder to redistribute Harry's weight back onto him; he was beginning to lean towards Hermione.
"Well, I know we have some at the Ministry. We just can't tell anyone that we brought his drunk self into the Apothecary in this state of being," Hermione stated flatly as she watched her husband bat away her best friend's sloppy kisses.
"Stop it! Let's hurry so this mess can end." The couple looked around the hallway for any watching eyes and the trio suddenly disappeared with a faint pop. They reappeared right in front of Hermione's workspace in the Ministry of Magic's Apothecary and sat Harry down on the clear space on the stone table. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and chin on his balled fists, and stared between them lazily. "Draco Malfoy."
"What?" Ron asked.
"Draco Malfoy," Harry repeated, his voice a bit louder as his eyes opened wider and looked poignantly in the space between them. The couple turned and, sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy sitting at another stone table and staring at them with wide silver eyes over a steaming cauldron. "Hello, Draco."
"What is he doing here?" Ron asked his wife and the woman shrugged.
"Well, uh, he just began working here today, but I don't know why he's here after hours," she told her husband, though she looked at the blond with accusing eyes.
Draco's own eyes narrowed as he met each of the trio's glares – accusing, disdainful, and … dopey – and a smirk fell across his lips as he accessed the Chosen One's current state. "Don't worry about what I'm doing here after hours, Weasleys –" God, it felt good to call both of them that; the surname seemed like such a better insult than Mudblood. "But I do suggest that you worry about what you, a Ministry potion's master and two Aurors, are doing here after hours."
"We don't talk, you don't talk," Hermione replied flatly.
"Agreed," the blond said, going back to his potion.
"Ron, go over there and get the appropriate potions," the wife ordered her husband as she stopped Harry from tilting forward and pitching off the table in his alcohol induced lethargy. Malfoy let out a small chuckle and she glared.
Ron nodded and moved to the shelf the woman had pointed to and the amount of various potions that adorned the entire wall had him walking back and simply shaking his head. "No."
"No?" she asked, a frown furrowing her brow. "There's absolutely none?"
"No, I mean, no. I'm not gonna be able to find a hangover potion amongst all these other ones. I'm liable to poison Harry." Malfoy chuckled again and they both glared. "Come with me."
Draco blocked out the boring couple's equally boring squabbling and spared a glance towards the Drunken One and found that the man was not there. He was sitting on the table beside Draco's potion instead.
Draco looked the man up and down, the crumpled robes, the horrid hair, the hooded eyes and swollen pink lips, the scent of something spicy and warm hung about him … firewhiskey. Firewhiskey, wood smoke, and sweat, but not regular sweat … This was the kind of sweat that coated one's body after a vigorous bout of sex. The blond forced his lips to curl in disgust as he stared up into hazy, emerald eyes. "What?"
"I said hello to you, you know," the man informed him, the words almost slurred and almost … seductive coming from Potter's deep and admittedly rich baritone.
"And?" Draco snapped back, turning back to his potion and posing to crush a peppermint leaf over it. He gasped when a large hand grabbed the leaf and another large hand cupped his chin and made him face the man currently chewing on his potion ingredient.
"And it is polite to reply with an acknowledgment or a greeting, even when you think you're too pretty to," Potter said softly, a teasing smile surrounding the green that poked out between his kiss swollen lips.
"Are you hitting on me or just having a go?" Draco asked, his eyes flicking to where the Weasel idiots were still bickering over potions that sat just at the bottom of the shelves, near their feet.
"Well, I'm so fucked up right now and there's a good chance I won't remember this at all tomorrow and there's about two or three of you, right now, but you're all very pretty, so I guess so. Yes … hitting on you."
"I'm married," Draco said shortly, wiggling the fingers of his left hand next to his face so that his ring flashed. The brunet blinked at his hand for a moment as if he had never seen such a thing before and closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
"No, you're not," Harry said softly. "You think that just because it wasn't in the news, I wouldn't know." Draco shrugged and picked up another leaf to crush, but the peppermint was gone from his fingers quicker than the last time. "I'm not finished hitting on you."
"Now, you know that's just a lie," Harry chuckled, snorting slightly, then smiling goofily at the snort like he was eight years old. "I've been divorced since … my second son was born … Yeah."
"Don't you have a daughter?" Draco asked, positive that there had been numerous articles about the youngest child, a baby, that he never looked at when skimming the papers.
"I said I was divorced, I didn't say I stopped fucking her," Harry said shortly and Draco smiled causing Harry's smile and a slightly wider smile from Draco.
"I think you should stop hitting on me now," the blond said softly.
"Why?" Harry asked, taking another leaf the other handed him.
"Because your minions are going to find the potion you need any second now and you're Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy."
"You're right," Harry replied, tapping the blond on the tip of his short nose with the end of his finger. Draco's nose scrunched up … cutely and Harry smiled. "I am Harry Potter … and you are Draco Malfoy … I would kiss you, but I threw up in my mouth a little bit a little while ago."
"Well, thank goodness for that," Draco said.
"Yeah … I guess," Harry said a moment before silently and suddenly disappearing and reappearing across the room, back on the Weasley's workspace just as the pair hurried back to him with a bottle. He downed it in several gulps and promptly passed out. The Weasel and the Beaver gathered his limp form in their arms and they disappeared in a rather loud pop.
Once again alone and grateful for it, Draco picked up another peppermint leaf and bit into it slowly as he crushed a second over the steaming cauldron.
"What do you want, Potter?"
The Auror smiled at the haughty tone that tickled a chuckle along the back of his throat and turned around to face the source. The blond was not happy and his ever present sneer, raised eyebrow, and upturned nose, along with the nasty, icy tone to his voice should have warned Harry to stay away, but the Gryffindor in him growled to know more about this newfound curiosity towards Draco Malfoy.
When he had woken up after that fateful Friday night, hangover free and sexual appetite sated, the first thing on his mind had been the blond … and strangely peppermint. He could not quite remember what the two had to do with one another or when he had actually seen Malfoy on the course of that wild night, but half a bottle of firewhiskey and two – or ten – shots of Grey Griffin can make one forget a lot of things. But apparently not Draco Malfoy. Harry looked the man up and down slowly and found several reasons why. The hair, for one thing; soft looking and long enough to almost skim the man's shoulders and held back by two thin braids on either side of his head that met in the back. However, a few of those moonlit blond strands fell away from the others and graced the smooth, pale skin of Malfoy's forehead. Oh, that skin. Pale as milk and probably as soft and creamy, it was perfection with no blemish in sight. It stretched across a face and body so exquisite, so beautifully angled and magnificently masculine.
"Excuse me, Potter? Has your brain finally exploded or …? I recall asking you what you want." And of course, the snappish words leaving that perfect pink mouth almost ruined it all … Almost.
"Why do I need to want something, Malfoy? I'm just standing here," Harry replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders.
The blond frowned at him and pulled the folders and rolls of parchment he carried in his arms closer to his chest. "Well, you're standing in front of the Apothecary which is two floors beneath the Auror's Department and practically on the other side of the Ministry from it, Weasley is not here, it's her day off, and I happen to know that you have the week off as well, so you shouldn't even be here in the first place."
"How do you know I have the week off?" the brunet asked softly, looking over his glasses at the other man with emerald eyes sparkling with interest. Draco blushed.
"Uh ... Weasley never shuts up about it. She says that since Friday you've been running wild all week."
"It's only Tuesday," Harry interjected.
"That's still four nights of which she can complain about. Now get out of my way."
"I'm in your way?"
The blond stared pointedly at the door behind the other man and Harry turned dramatically and gasped in surprise as if he had not known he was blocking the other's path. He quickly stepped out of the way and gave a theatrical bow as he used his hand to guide the other to the door.
"Idiot," the blond hissed as he pushed the door open and walked through it, ever aware of the man that walked in behind him. "What do you want?" he asked again as he walked to his workspace, nodding at another potions worker across the room.
"Are you free tonight?"
Silver eyes shot to the other man, wide, surprised, and suspicious. "Why?"
"I just had the urge to ask you out today, that's all," Harry replied softly as he hopped onto Draco's desk and smiled at the other man enticingly.
"So you just followed this urge?"
"Well … yeah," Harry chuckled. "I've decided that this is the week in which I will indulge in all my urges … Primal and otherwise …"
The blond looked away from the other man with slightly pink cheeks and began to pull various folders of paperwork from the leather satchel that bounced against his hip. "And exactly what has prompted the week of indulgences?"
Harry did not answer right away. Instead, he brushed the hair that fell across Draco's forehead to reveal warm mercury eyes that gazed back at him in surprise and then he answered, "I had a portrait of Sirius Black commissioned a while ago. You know, he's my godfather." Draco nodded as the brunet's fingers followed the curve of one of his thin braids all the way to the back of his head where they threaded there, kneading and massaging the scalp underneath. "He's very talkative, very animated … Ever since I got my divorce, he tells me that I've been moping. You know why my marriage ended, Draco?"
"No," the blond whispered, staring at the other man's face carefully, observing that the beautiful combination of bone structure and golden skin seemed to come closer and closer.
"I have a theory … I've been punishing myself. I've let so many people down in my life, Draco." God, Draco wished the man would stop saying his name. It sounded as if the man's voice was made of chocolate, moonlight, shadows, and, of course, sex. "Or, at least I've felt like it. It hurt so much, Draco." Harry's other hand settled at the base of Draco's throat and his long, sinful fingers trailed up and down the pale column, stroking under his chin as if the blond was a feline. Draco swallowed down the urge to purr. "Draco … It wasn't until the portrait of my godfather yelled at me to live again that I realized that I was wrongly punishing myself … So this week is my compensation."
"Compensation?" Draco whispered back.
"Yes. I owe this week of indulgences to myself … And I wish to indulge in you."
"You make it sound as if I'm made from chocolate."
"Is that what you taste like?"
Draco felt himself redden horribly and he pulled away to face the folders he had placed on his desk. He shook his head and refused to acknowledge the frown he saw on Harry's face from the corner of his eye. "You don't want me."
"I do … I've been acting on impulses for days now, Draco. I recognize what I want. Let me come to your place tonight."
Draco shook his head. "I have a child to look over … I'm in this stupid job just to support him. I cannot afford any distractions."
"I have three children –" the brunet began, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.
"You also have a mother of those children who is not dead. You have friends who can help you with said children. Your children have grandparents they can be around. You can have one night stands, Harry Potter. I, Draco Malfoy, cannot," Draco said tightly, ignoring the lump in his throat along with the burning behind his eyes.
Harry hopped off the desk and, in one swift motion, pinned the blond to it, much to the surprise of the other potions worker in the room who had been watching the two of them stealthily from behind a potions book.
"What are you scared of, Malfoy?"
"Nothing," Draco snarled back, baring his teeth in the most intense sneer he had ever managed. A sneer that melted away when Harry's hot lips covered it.
"Then I'll be over your house at midnight," the brunet informed the dazed man beneath him. "By then, your little tyke should be out cold and we'll have hours together before I leave. Alright?"
"Alright," Harry whispered into another kiss. "Give me your address."
Draco whispered it to the Auror who claimed to have remembered it before the weight above him vanished in a nearly silent pop of Apparition.
Draco's flat was small and none too fancy, but Harry did not seem to mind as he stepped into it through the fireplace at fifteen after midnight and swept the blond into his arms, demanding hasty instructions to the master bedroom. Draco gave them to him as he wrapped his legs around the other's waist and kissed the sides of the perfect face of the Chosen One's. When the man dumped him unceremoniously on his rather small bed, he shivered at the look the man gave him.
Draco knew what he looked like; he always knew what he looked like. Before the man arrived and after he had put Scorpius to bed, he had taken great care in grooming himself. First, a languid bath in which he had added a potion comprised of ingredients he thought would appeal greatly to Harry, including cocoa oil and peppermint. He had smoothed his skin, trimmed his hair and left it to fall straight like rain at the sides of his face. His skin was soft, he was sure of it; he was always cursing himself for buying expensive ingredients for potions to keep it that way.
The robes he wore were so thin that they were almost sheer. They were silky, but not the silk he was accustomed to, merely satin that slid across his skin and reminded him how fall his family had fallen.
But as he lay across that bed, under the gaze of those emerald green eyes, he felt as if he was adorned in the garbs of kings. His blush was violent, so he hid it by looking away nonchalantly, as if the other man had no effect on him whatsoever. The brunet chuckled and crawled onto the bed, between long, pale legs that had automatically fallen apart for him, and he kissed the side of Draco's face softly, tenderly, just so that the redness would grow deeper and he could chuckle at it some more.
"Don't tease me, Potter," the blond said as coldly as he possibly could, despite the heat radiating from his trembling frame. "Do what you came here to do so that you can get out."
Harry continued to chuckle as his mouth created a path of gentle pecks down the other's neck, caressing the soft skin with the occasional whisper or groan of admiration. His hands reached into the other's light grey robes and clutched at the white nightshirt the blond wore, hiking it up until the creamy tops of the man's thighs were bared to the moonlit room. An appreciative moan rang through the room as his curious hand delved under the nightshirt and skimmed across a warm, silky torso.
"Good?" he whispered as he slowly lowered them onto the bed.
"Yes," Draco whispered in reply, pulling his arms free of his satin robes and bending his knee so that it further cradled the other man to him. Harry's chuckle rang through the room a moment before it was pressed and silenced against the blond's lips, tangling with the man's tongue and finally being swallowed when one mouth fully covered another. With deeper kissing brought deeper exploration of bodies and Draco found himself fully curling his leg around the other's trim waist while one hand became lost in wicked black locks and the other found shelter under the plain red t-shirt Harry wore and against the hottest skin he had ever had the privilege to touch.
The blond froze at the forlorn cry coming from the room down the hall and bit his lip in worry of what the brunet would think of him in that moment. He opened his eyes and first looked at the lips that had stopped kissing him and then diverted his gaze from temptation to another gaze. Those eyes smiled down at him knowingly and Harry rolled off of him to lie on his back on the small bed and cross his arms behind his head. Draco smiled and climbed out of the bed, tugging his nightshirt down as he did so and hurried out of the room to his son.
Harry listened to all the quiet sounds of the homey flat as he waited for Draco to return; the creaking of the of the building settling, the ticking of a clock he assumed was hidden in the darkness of the bedroom … He smiled at the sound of Draco cooing over his child and the indulgent whines the child made back. He guessed the boy was around the age of his youngest son, Albus Severus, and four years of age meant nightmares and wet beds, rebellion and the need to be coddled. It meant temper-tantrums and the loathed new concept of "time-out". It meant being able to copy Daddy and make fun of him at the same time. It meant being at the receiving end of constant affection, attention, and all things sweet …
Draco walked quietly back into the bedroom to see Harry, shirtless and with his Muggle jeans unfastened, as he stared out the window to a night sky that was blocked by another building and was lost in thought. It was not until he crawled onto the bed and placed his head on a toned, golden stomach that the brunet looked at him.
"What?" Harry asked, a goofy grin on his face to match the blond's own.
Draco shook his head and traced a hand up a ridged plane of golden muscles. "I was just wondering what had you thinking that hard … You surely never had that expression on your face in school."
"Shut up, Malfoy," the brunet laughed before falling silent and moving slightly so that he could thread the fingers of one hand into moonlit strands of hair. "I was thinking about my children."
Draco smiled and nuzzled the other's navel. "Scorpius had a nightmare and I was required to check every nook and cranny of his room for monsters and the like … Did I ruin the mood?"
Harry shook his head and, to prove his point, sat up to flip the blond onto his back and kiss him soundly.
"Is he asleep?" he asked between kisses.
"At least for another four hours," Draco whimpered in reply. Harry grunted his own and sat up once more, staring at the other man with predatory eyes. He yanked the blond's undershirt off, tossing it aside even as his free hand was tugging down the revealed underwear. Draco gasped as his arousal was assaulted be the cold air of the room, then by the exquisite heat of the other's large hand.
Harry's palm was rough against him, but he shuddered in pleasure, tugging at the other's jeans and gasping impatient phrases and curses when they did not slide off right away. But Harry kissed him softly and pulled away for a moment and, when he came back, his skin was pressed against the other's from head to toe with no barriers but their sweat and the trembles that wracked each of their bodies.
"I want you so bad," the emerald eyed man revealed as he feasted with tongue and lips on the crook of Draco's neck, his hands sliding and dipping into places that had the man beneath him begging and writhing, pleading in a sweet voice for some kind of release. Draco spread his legs further and arched his back so that the tip of the brunet's arousal traced down his own and slid further down to where his entrance twitched and waited. Harry hissed and cupped each side of the blond's face gently, his thumbs tracing across sharply slanted cheekbones just underneath fanning silver lashes. He rolled his hips, pressing the hot, wet tip of him against the other's entrance and sending the blond into a fit of inviting gasps. He reached for the jeans that lay discarded at the edge of the bed and fumbled inside the pockets as he refused to move away from the other's addictive heat. Finally, he found his prize – his wand – and arched away from the blond just enough to bring it between them and mutter a spell that covered the necessary areas in warm, slick liquid.
"Feels good," Draco whispered and Harry smiled and kissed the tip of his pointed nose. Small, heated whimpers left the man's sweet lips as fingers pressed into him. "Good, Harry …"
"I'm happy you like it," the brunet chuckled as he worked two of his fingers in at once with no protest from the other. "It feels like you like it; you're taking me in so well."
The blond moaned his agreement and pumped his hips up and down, hissing at the burn of being stretched, but delighting in the occasional brushes close to that special spot of his. The fingers pulled away, much to his displeasure, but Harry pressed into him, breaching that first tight ring of muscle and the second until he was buried halfway. Draco squirmed in discomfort; Harry was much larger than mere fingers, but he rolled his hips anyway so that the man would continue. His pale fingers clutched at the sheets beneath him until his knuckles were truly white and his panting breath echoed through the room along with the brunet's moans and gasps.
Slowly, Harry pushed his hips forward and sunk deeper into the other man, leaning forward to swallow the blond's cries with his mouth, coaxing them down his throat with his tongue and reciprocating them with moans of his own. Long, pale limbs entwined him, pulling him deeper and pushing him closer to the heated body beneath him. The air tasted of sweat and sex and intoxicated them like the finest wine, filling their heads with heady thoughts and their eyes with even hotter visions. Harry sat back for better leverage, but the other followed him, wrapping himself tight around the Auror and pressing kisses into his shoulder. The brunet pressed his own lips to where he could reach the other, on his temple, right below pale hair that stuck with sweat against his forehead. He tongued the soft skin gently, taking in the salty-clean taste that was Draco in bed …
He sat back on his haunches and established a steady rhythm for the other man, sending the blond into keening fits of moans or almost violent tremors. The heels of Draco's narrow feet dug into the small of his back, but Harry had more important things to care for other than possible bruises in the morning; the arms around his neck had fallen back as the blond used them to support himself as he slammed his body back and forth. The insistent slaps of his actions echoed through the room, completing their erotic ambiance and providing a beautiful picture for Harry to dream of for years.
His head thrown back, his mouth open in silent screams as his body restlessly aimed for the most primal pleasure that there was, Draco closed his eyes to the sight of Harry gazing on him so intensely. Instead, he focused on the feel of the other man, in and out, back and forth, over and over until he became dizzy with it. He wanted to scream the man's name, wanted to cry out, to voice the ecstasy that was housed in a body that seemed too small to hold it, but – in silence – he emptied himself onto his stomach, his arms shaking violently and causing him to fall back, bringing the brunet down with him.
"Be my lover," Harry whispered into his ear in the midst of his final thrusts.
"Yes," Draco whispered as he was enveloped in strong arms that held him tightly as he was filled with the other man's hot, pulsing satisfaction. Harry kissed him softly, held him softly just as he knew the man would, and smiled at him as if he was the most amazing wonder in the world.
"I want to stay inside of you all night," Harry whispered, his green gaze practically glowing as a strip of moonlight that somehow bypassed the building blocking the window's view ran across his face.
Draco tightened his shaky legs around the other and suggested, "Feel free … Please …"
Harry stood in the doorway of the small kitchen and watched as his school rival, Draco Malfoy, shuffled around his kitchen on a Wednesday morning fixing bacon and French toast and humming to some wizarding rock band's song with the brightest "I just got laid" smile he had ever seen. He wanted to walk into the room and scoop the man up into his arms, ply his gorgeous face with kisses, and love him through the day and night until it was time for breakfast again, but the little blond sitting at the kitchen table prevented him from moving any further than the doorway. The child had yet to see him, but when he did, Harry was sure the boy would ask a number of questions that could only be answered with "I boinked your father last night" and he could see that ending horribly.
The Auror, after a minute of intense thought, decided it best to sneak out the apartment despite the fact that Draco had left him asleep in his bed when he could have kicked him out and practically stamped a seal of approval for him to stay on his forehead. Just as he moved to leave, Draco spun around, his satiny bed robes flowing around him as if made of wind and called out, "Harry! Breakfast – Oh!"
Harry pasted a smile over his cringe when another pair of silver eyes fell on him, but he only spared the boy one glance before staring pointedly at Draco.
"I told Scorpius earlier that you're Daddy's friend … Who just wanted to spend the night here," Draco explained, his cheeks going slightly red as he glanced at the curious expression on his son's face.
"Are you Harry Potter?!" the boy blurted and Draco frowned at him.
"Don't be rude, Scorpius."
"Sorry, Daddy," the little Malfoy whispered, his big eyes growing even wider as he stared at the Auror in the doorway. "Are you Harry Potter, sir?"
Harry fell into a fit of chuckles as Draco crossed his arms and shook his head. "Yes, I am."
"I'm Scorpius! I have all your Chocolate Frog cards and your action figure and Daddy even said that one day I might get a broom just like yours and –"
"Your food is getting cold," Draco said to the boy as he walked across the kitchen and ruffled the other blond's hair. He looked up at the other man hesitantly and said, "Yours, too."
Harry smiled softly at him and sat down in front of the plate made for him, taking in the sweet aroma of cinnamon and orange juice. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a hippogriff … Last night took all of my energy."
Draco turned bright red and turned away for a moment, busying himself at the sink where dishes were cleaning themselves. "Well, that hearty appetite will help you eat the food I make. Scorpius and I are already immune to it, but we've yet to test it on another."
"It can't be worse than Hermione's cooking," Harry said, taking a purposely large bite of the sweet toast and making a face of exaggerated pleasure that had Scorpius falling into a fit of giggles and making a few faces of his own. Draco smiled and sat down with his own plate between his son and the other man. The large hand the traced his bare knee had his face burning red once more, but he dismissed it with a small smile as his son began to retell a dream he had the night before of dragons and stars and famous wizards.
I love you so much, WheezyD, and I hope you had the best b-day ever!
Sorry for taking forever to send this. It is, technically, still your birthday where you are and hopefully you read it before I totally missed the goal. By the way, for you and everyone else, this story is not finished; there is one more chapter that will hopefully be up by the end of the week. I started with one idea in mind and it totally got away from me, so it's going to be a decent sized two-shot.
Hope everyone enjoyed it so far and please wish WiseDraco a happy (belated) birthday.