Author's notes: Finally, a quick update! I've practically been working with this chapter every night during this week, and while it was one of the hardest chapters to write yet, I still enjoyed it tremendously. Your feedback really kept me going, and I hope you'll continue to let me know what you think of this story and the way it develops. Now, here's chapter 12, I hope you'll like it :)

Chapter 12 - Under pressure

Rachel was about to close up the shop when Draco arrived – in fact, they practically collided with each other as Rachel was just about to change the "Open"-sign on the door when Draco stormed through it. Draco didn't apologize for almost knocking her over – instead, he pushed past her into the shop where he could throw himself into the armchair he had started to think of as his own. Staring down at his hands, he saw that they were still shaking, but he could barely feel it.

Rachel didn't say anything, which was a tremendous relief, because Draco didn't think he would be able to speak just yet. His mind was a tangled mess of different thoughts and emotions, all of them seemingly fighting for his undivided attention. He couldn't handle it.


Rachel was, unsurprisingly, making coffee – he couldn't see her, but he could hear the faint, grinding noise from the machine. The familiar sound was somewhat soothing, and he could feel himself relax a little.

He thought about what had happened. He thought about Smith, and the malicious gleam in his eyes as he said those words that had pushed Draco over the edge. And then he stopped thinking, because it was hard to breathe, like something in his chest was being ripped apart.

Then Rachel was there, not sitting opposite him like she usually did, but perched on the armrest of his chair with one hand around Draco's shoulders. They sat there for a while without saying anything, until Draco felt the need to point out the obvious.

"You're touching me."

"Yep" Rachel admitted. "I thought you could need it."

Silence settled again, and Rachel kept her arm around him for a short while, until the coffee machine fell silent, and she went to get their coffee. Draco hadn't realized how relaxing the closeness had been until she pulled away. When Rachel returned back, she sank down in her usual chair again.

"Tell me everything when you're ready" she said quietly, and after a few minutes of silent sipping of their respective cups, Draco did tell her. He started with telling her about work, about Mr Barnes and how he had lied about his mother, because she hadn't heard that story yet. That involved a more detailed version of the story of Potter's appearance, and why Draco had left in the first place – even though he was careful not to mention anything about The Prophet, or magic. Then he told her about going back, and how Smith had showed up, just like Potter had, completely out of the blue, and how it had changed everything again.

"I know I shouldn't allow myself to be provoked like that," he said in a low voice. "I rarely lose my composure like I did today, but the things he said… I don't know what came over me, it just… it was like I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. Like someone else took temporarily claim over my body, and the next thing I knew, Peters was dragging me away from him, and I was quitting my job." In a vain attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "Besides. He stole my haircut. Not that he could pull it off."

Rachel was looking down at the contents of her cup thoughtfully.

"What did he say?" she finally asked, and Draco's insides twisted painfully, although he had been expecting the question.

"He seemed to think that Potter and I were together" he answered, his throat dry. "And he warned me that Potter would grow tired of me, eventually. He said…. he said that he would throw me out like yesterday's trash."

Rachel's eyes snapped up to meet Draco's, but he looked away.

"Draco…" ´

"Except Potter already did that, didn't he?" Draco interrupted her, his voice shaking slightly now. He swallowed. "Potter grew tired of me weeks ago. He threw me away, like I wasn't even important, like I was garbage… and I can't even get the bloody picture of him out of my head. How pathetic is that? Do you know how much Smith would have laughed if he knew that I dream about Potter almost every single night? That I actually… that I, for some reason I can't even begin to understand, fell in love with him? That I constantly think about that stupid, meaningless kiss he gave me? And do you know how disgusted Potter would be if he ever found out?"

He could feel Rachel looking at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. He knew she pitied him, and he couldn't stand to see his own pathetic weakness reflected in the depths of her silver irises.

"Draco" Rachel said very softly, when the silence after Draco's rant had started to become slightly awkward. "How thick are you?"

Draco forgot all about feeling sorry for himself and not looking at Rachel for a second, and gave her one of his most incredulous stares. She had the nerve to smile back at him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, more surprised than upset.

It was a rightful question. He had thought that Rachel was a good listener, but now, he began to understand that she was simply mental.

Rachel was unabashed, as always.

"Did you ever stop to think why Smith came to visit you in the first place?" she asked. "Did you really think he just decided to show up out of the blue to bug you for no reason?"

Draco glared at her.

"Well, of course I thought about it" he snapped. "But Smith's a malicious little bastard. I bet he thrives on seeing other people suffer."

"Maybe. But I'm willing to bet that he had his motives."

Draco snorted.

"Enlighten me."

"Well, first of all, it's obvious that Smith and Potter have some sort of relation to each other" Rachel said. "Judging from the way Smith acted, whatever happened between them, didn't end well, and considering how he's clearly jealous of you being together with Potter…"

"Weren't you listening? Potter and I are not together" Draco interrupted. "And what makes you think Smith's jealous, anyway? That's ridiculous."

"But Smith thinks you are together, doesn't he?" Rachel said triumphantly. "He was so jealous about it that he came to your workplace and tried to scare you off. Come on, Draco, it makes sense – why else would he bother?"

"But why would he be jealous?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Well, that's obvious" she said smugly. "Smith's jealous because he's in love with Potter too. And judging from that crap about how Potter would throw you away like garbage, Potter probably broke up with him. Smith was talking about how he felt that he was treated."

Draco blinked slowly as he let the words sink in. Potter and Smith?

"That's…" Stupid? Imbecilic? Insane?


"Potter's not even gay," he finally said. "He's always liked girls. He even married a woman."

"He also divorced her," Rachel pointed out. The fact that she knew that made Draco blush a little – it seemed like he had practically shared Potter's entire life story with Rachel.

"That doesn't prove anything," he said stubbornly.

"Neither does the fact that he's been into girls before."

Draco shook his head. It still didn't make sense.

"Well, let's say for argument's sake that you're right…"

"I am" Rachel said firmly. Draco ignored her.

"Say that Potter is gay, and that his lack of taste actually allowed him to have some sort of affair with Smith" he continued, wrinkling his nose slightly. "I still don't get why Smith would be jealous of me. He practically started that whole rumour about Potter and me, he knew that there wasn't anything going on between us."

"Yes, that mysterious rumour which got spread through that article in that paper you don't remember the name of" Rachel said doubtfully, and Draco started to think that his cover-up story hadn't been so brilliant after all.

"I think the name of the paper started with a 'P','" he said helpfully. Rachel snorted.

"Well, if Smith did start the rumours about the two of you, he wouldn't have been jealous." she admitted. "Unless he knew something about Potter's feelings for you that you don't."

Draco flinched.

"Potter doesn't have any feelings for me," he said sharply. "No positive ones, at least."

"Maybe he does" Rachel persisted.

Draco couldn't really believe that he was hearing this. Potter had used, betrayed and humiliated him in every possible way, and Rachel knew that. Still, she was suggesting that, in spite of all that, Potter was… well, that Potter didn't hate him?

"Brilliant theory" he said coolly. "Except for one thing. You don't go around talking about your possible new romantic interests to the person you're currently dating, do you? If Potter had feelings for me, he wouldn't have told Smith. If Smith were in fact his lover or whatever, which I still doubt, by the way."

Rachel's eyes twinkled and she smirked, like she knew something that Draco didn't.

"Sometimes, you don't have to say anything at all, and it's still obvious."

Draco felt himself blush a little. Girls.

"So, what you're saying is that Potter is, in fact, in love with me?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, trying to make Rachel realize just how little sense she was making right now. She pursed her lips.

"I'm just saying I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding," she said. "Maybe you should talk to him."

Draco slammed his eyes tightly shut. He didn't want to listen to this anymore.

"Misunderstanding, was it, when Potter kissed me and then went back to his precious friends, like I never existed? When he stood me up? When I waited for hours, even days, for him to come up with some sort of explanation? How are you not getting this, Rachel? Potter hates me, and he's made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me. If you think I'm going to humiliate myself even further by going after him again, you're delusional."

Rachel leaned forward and tried to take his hand, which was resting on the table, but Draco pulled quickly away. She sighed, and leaned back in her chair again.

"I get it, Draco, I really do" she said, her voice softer again. "But what if you're wrong? Wouldn't it be worth it to try…"

"No." Draco said sharply. "It wouldn't be."

Rachel sighed again, resignedly this time. She knew the argument was over.

"Fine." she said. "I understand that you don't want to do it. But for what it's worth, if I'm right… I think that he will come to you."

"Don't hold your breath" Draco said dully.

"I won't" Rachel said solemnly, glancing at her watch. "Listen, I've really got to get home, it's quite late. The shop will be closed the next few days, I'm going away to celebrate the holidays with my family outside of town. Will you be alright?"

Draco stood up quickly.

"Of course I will," he said, ignoring how hollow his voice sounded. "Why wouldn't I?"

Rachel didn't answer, and they left the shop together. Well outside, Draco didn't really know what to say – it would be weird, not seeing her for several days, when he had spent almost every single day the past few weeks in her company.

"Maybe I could call you when I get back?" Rachel said finally, her voice a little hesitant. "I mean, if you want to."

"I don't have a phone," Draco said, and for the first time, he thought that he might actually need one. "But… you could come over, if you like. Do you have any parchment… I mean, paper?"

Rachel rummaged through the pockets of her waistcoat and drew out a crumpled piece of paper and a bitten down pencil. Draco printed down his address, and gave it back to her.

"I'll probably be home around the 27:th," she said. "See you then."

"Yeah, see you" Draco echoed, and then they both turned around at the same time, and left in opposite directions.

Draco walked home in a slow pace. He wasn't in a hurry. It was snowing – fluffy, soft flakes were sailing down from the sky, clinging to his hair and his eyelashes. It was perfect, Draco thought dully – the years first snowfall, just in time for Christmas. A few years ago, he would have been happy about it. He had loved snow for as long as he could remember, although he had mostly enjoyed it from a distance. He had always found something very reassuring about watching the snow fall from his bedroom window at the Manor when he was little. He had always been fascinated about how the flakes covered the grounds, making them look like a massive, bright white duvet. He liked it best that way, when it was untouched, flawless. He never made snow angels like he knew other children did – it felt like such a shame to ruin it.

Now, the snow didn't reassure him at all. It was just there, a thing like everything else around him that he really didn't care about. Apart from the fact that it was messing up his hair.

He didn't know what the time was when he arrived home. All he knew was that he was tired, that he wanted to go to bed and not think about Rachel's speculations at all.

The fact that Potter was waiting for him outside of his building made that next to impossible.

Draco spotted him before the other man had the chance to see him, and reasonably enough, he froze on the spot. Potter was sitting down, like he had been waiting for a while and was tired of standing. He was wearing a thick, dark coat, not completely unlike the one Draco himself was sporting, and he had his knees drawn up to his chest with his chin resting slightly on them. His unruly hair was glittering with snowflakes, and his gaze was fixed at something in the distant, like he was lost in thought. Draco slapped himself mentally when he thought of him has nice-looking. That was not helping. Neither was Rachel's word that suddenly had decided to pop up in his head. If I'm right, I think that he will come to you.

Draco blinked hard, half-convinced that he was hallucinating, but Potter didn't disappear, and soon, he would probably turn his head and spot Draco, and… then what? What could he possibly want? Why was he there?

Maybe he would go away if Draco didn't show up. If Draco took a few extra laps around the block, Potter would surely be gone by the time he came back? That was probably a good idea. Draco didn't want to face Potter right now. Not ever, in fact.

He had made up his mind and was just about to sneak away, when Potter turned his head and spotted him. The distance was too big for Draco to get a good look on Potter's expression, but the other man stood up immediately, and started to walk towards him. He thought about running away, or apparating, but Potter was probably faster than he was, and he had left his wand on the kitchen table before going to work. Besides, he hadn't apparated in years. He would probably splinch himself.

"Malfoy," Potter said, and Draco was snapped out of his thoughts of finding a possible escape route. Potter had closed the distance between them now, and running away was even more pointless. Before Draco could say anything, Potter added, "are you alright?"

Draco's eyes snapped up to meet Potter's, and a sudden burst of rage surged through his chest. Like Potter cared if he was all right. Like he had ever cared.

"Peachy." he said coolly, before breaking eye contact with Potter, pushing past him on the way to the door. "Now, leave me the hell alone."

He could sense Potter reaching out for him before he felt a hand closing around his arm. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but Potter's grip was like a vice.

"Don't touch me!" Draco snapped, and he hated the panicky edge in his voice, but it did the trick. Potter blushed, and quickly let go.

"Sorry." he said. "I just… please, could we talk?"

Potter's expression was one that Draco had never seen on his face before. It was hard to pinpoint it, but he was biting down hard on his lip, and Draco thought for a second that maybe he did want to talk, if he could be the one biting down on Potter's lip for just one second.

He clenched his jaw. Still not helping.

"No." he said finally. "You had your chance to talk to me, Potter. It didn't seem as important to you then."

But he didn't leave. It was as if something had rooted him to the spot, like some invisible force was preventing him from moving any further away from Potter. He was obviously going mad.

"Please." Potter said again, his voice urgent. "Smith came over and told me what happened, and after that article in The Prophet this morning… Malfoy, I feel awful, I never…"

Draco felt something cold that didn't have anything to do with the weather coil inside his chest.

"Your boyfriend told he everything, did he?" he snapped, even though he was not sure why. He hadn't believed Rachel's theory about that, had he? "I'm glad he enlightened you, Potter. Could you give him a message for me? One that's applicable to the both of you, I might add – stay the hell away from me."

Potter blushed again.

"He's not… that's not important. I doubt he would listen to anything I have to say, anyway. I sort of gave him a black eye."

Draco opened his mouth to snap something back, but then the words had time to sink in.

"Nice job." he finally breathed, and Potter smiled ruefully.

"It felt like the right thing to do." he said. "So, are we going in or what? I'm freezing."

"I don't really care about your physical health, Potter." Draco said, even though he was starting to feel the chill as well. "If you've got something to say, say it here. You have two minutes."

"Two minutes?" Potter said, frowning. "Malfoy, that's not enough time, I have…"

"One minute and forty-five seconds."

Potter growled.

"Fine," he huffed, drawing a sharp breath. "Malfoy, I'm really sorry about not showing up that day, I've been thinking about it ever since. It was stupid and selfish of me, I know that, and I know I owed you an explanation but I couldn't, it was just too… I had no idea what I was going to say, or how I was going to explain it without freaking you out again. So I did the easy thing, and I didn't say anything at all. I know I was being a coward, and I know that you hate me and that you never want to see me again, but I miss you, you stupid prat, and I need to tell you that… how am I doing with the time?"

Potter had been talking fast, and now he was trying to catch his breath, a bewildered look on his face.

"I don't know, I wasn't really counting." Draco admitted, feeling rather breathless himself. He closed his eyes, trying to snap out of it.

He used you. He's been lying to you before. Why should you trust him?

But the thought of Potter ever missing him was just too delicious for him to brush of that quickly. It was pathetic, but Draco couldn't help himself.

Potter looked at him with an exhausted expression.

"Please, can we just go inside?" he pleaded. "I owe you a proper explanation."

Well, that much was true.

"You do." Draco said. "And I guess I am curious about that article you mentioned." When Potter gave him a funny look, he added, "I cancelled my subscription a few weeks ago. One of the finer decisions I've made lately."

He went for the door, and didn't protest when Potter followed him.

"You haven't read it, then?" Potter said, and he sounded relieved. "Well, you're better off. It was a load of rubbish, anyway…"

"Of course it was a load of rubbish." Draco snorted as they climbed the stairs up towards his apartment. "It was Robbins who wrote it, wasn't it? But you're still going to tell me everything about it. Let me guess… something about me forcing some sort of love potion down your throat, forcing you to be my sex slave? That'd be a good one."

He couldn't believe how casual this felt, and he clenched his jaw. He couldn't allow himself to forget what Potter had done.

"Not really." Potter answered. "You're actually not the villain in this story - I am. Apparently, I dumped you, and you were heartbroken about it. A real sob story."

Draco felt himself stiffen.

"Indeed." he hissed.

"Yeah," Potter said, and even though Draco couldn't see it, he could hear the discomfort in his voice when he added, "I thought you might not like that."

They didn't say anything else until they were inside the apartment, both seated opposite each other at the kitchen table. Draco realized he had kept the chair that Potter had conjured that first morning around. How odd that he hadn't noticed that before.

"So… you missed me." he said, when Potter had opened his mouth to begin the conversation and closed it again too many times. "That's… interesting."

Potter bit his lip.

"I did," he answered. "Malfoy, first of all, I want you to know that I am so sorry about… about the kiss…"

Draco's stomach made a little jolt.

"… I know that I was pushing it too far, that you never wanted me to do that. But I want you to know that I will never cross that line again. I know you don't feel that way about me, and that what I did was wrong… did I mention that I was sorry?"

"You did." Draco said, frowning a little, his pulse quickening a little as he realized he was about to ask the one question he hadn't been able to stop thinking about, but also the one question he didn't know if he wanted answered. "I'm still confused as to why you did it in the first place though. I realize you wanted to get rid of me, but there were lots of other, less… unpleasant options for you to choose from, wasn't there?" He realized he was practically quoiting Rachel. Damn her.

Potter looked completely nonplussed.

"Get rid of you?" he repeated, distractedly running his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. "Malfoy, did you really think that was what it was all about?" When Draco just shrugged non-commitedly in return, Potter sighed. "Merlin, you just don't…"

"… get it, do I?" Draco finished the sentence for him in a dry voice. "Yeah. You mentioned that back then, I believe. I'd appreciate it if you would stop trying to point out how dense I am. It wasn't really as though you were there to explain it to me, was it?"

Potter looked a little embarrassed.


"You're repeating yourself." Draco pointed out, although there was no real edge to his words. "Care to explain to me where my theory fails, then?"

Potter blushed, yet again. Draco, unfortunately, started to think that that red tinge on his cheeks suited him quite nicely. He forced himself to look away.

"Malfoy, I…" Potter begun, but he seemed to have trouble finding the right words. Draco wasn't surprised – eloquence had never been Potter's strong suite after all.

"I don't have all night."

Potter groaned.

"Fine," he said, a familiar sort of determination to his voice – the kind that said he was about to throw himself recklessly into a potentially dangerous situation. "Seriously, Malfoy, why do you think people usually kiss each other? I wanted to. I… wanted you, in fact."

Draco opened his mouth to answer. Then he closed it again. He chanced a glance at Potter, but he was looking firmly away, biting down on his lip so hard it was bound to leave a mark.

"Excuse me, what?" was all Draco was able to say after what seemed like an eternity of silence. He must have misheard. There was no way Potter had just…

"I kissed you because I wanted to." Potter's voice was defiant now, almost daring Draco to question him again. He was looking back at Draco now too, his eyes filled with that same determination Draco had heard in his voice earlier.

"You wanted me." Draco repeated, mostly to himself as his mind was trying to grasp this new information. And before he could stop himself, his treacherous lips blurted out, "Do you still... want me?"

The words were unfamiliar on his lips, and he could feel himself blush as he said them. Fortunately, Potter didn't seem to notice – he was looking away again, rubbing his temple wearily.

"Yes" he answered roughly, and Draco involuntarily drew a sharp breath, before Potter added, "But it doesn't have to mean anything, Malfoy. I would never do it again, I told you, I just felt like I needed to explain it. Could we please just forget about it?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, although he didn't now whether he was about to agree that they should never speak about it again, or if he would argue, because the thought of Potter never kissing him again was just simply ridiculous. A nervous, slightly aching feeling in his gut stopped him though, and it took him a while to figure out what was wrong.

Then it hit him – Potter was lying to him. Again. Maybe his initial intentions hadn't been the ones Draco had suspected, but Potter was telling him the things he thought would freak Draco out the most yet again. Draco no longer thought that Potter was trying to get rid of him, but he was definitely lying to cover something up. And Draco was fed up with it. He wanted the truth.

A plan was starting to take form in his head, and before he could second-guess himself, before the more sensible part of his brain could tell him that it was a horrible idea, he stood up. Potter looked up at him, clearly confused, but Draco promptly reached for his hand an dragged him up too.

"Malfoy, what are you…" Potter begun, but Draco held up one hand to silence him. They were standing opposite each other, a few feet apart, and Potter was looking at Draco like he was going insane. Which, in all honesty, he probably was.

"You want me?" he asked, locking eyes with Potter. "Well… prove it."

Potter's eyes widened slightly. When Draco looked more closely, he could, indeed, see that there was a faint mark on his lower lip where his teeth had sunk in earlier.

"I… you… what?" Potter spluttered, clearly bewildered by Draco's odd behaviour. Draco rolled his eyes, and took a step closer to Potter. He could see the other man stiffen visibly.

"I'm done with you hiding things from me, Potter," he said, his voice a little rougher than he would have liked. He edged even closer. "You say you want me, but I don't believe you. If it's true – prove it. Kiss me again."

Potter gasped, probably in shock, and it took Draco all his willpower to not pull away. It wasn't one of his more elegant plans, but it would force Potter to show his true colours. It was simple, like a game of chicken - one that Draco had every intention of winning. Potter was bound to pull away first, and then Draco would be sure that he was lying. He tried to ignore the part of him that hoped that Potter wouldn't draw back.

Potter didn't look scared, though. On the other hand, he looked almost angry.

"Very funny, Malfoy" he snapped, but Draco noticed that he didn't move away. "Is this some kind of test, to see if I'd break my word and force myself on you again? Because I won't."
Draco ignored him, drawing even closer. They were inches apart now, so close that Draco could feel Potter's warm breath tickle his chin.

"Scared, Potter?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. It was both painful and exhilarating being this close to Potter, knowing how easy it would be to just reach out and touch him, how it would only take one single, small step to close the distance between their lips.

"You wish" Potter mumbled, but he was biting his lips again, and Draco knew that Potter was just as nervous as he was. The flaw of the plan was quickly starting to catch up with him – he had no idea what he was doing.

"Last chance," Draco said, licking his lips, edging just a fraction closer. The tips of their noses were almost touching now.

Potter swallowed.

"I'm not going to do it," he declared, although his voice was wavering a little. He would probably pull away at any second.

"Coward" Draco said softly, and then he thought to hell with pride, and dignity, and bloody self-control. If he was only ever going to get one chance at this, he would be an idiot not to take it. With one last step, he closed the distance between them, hesitantly pressing his own lips against Potter's.

Potter made a surprised little sound against Draco's mouth, but his lips remained unresponsive, and for a second, Draco thought that he had been right, that Potter really had been lying to him, and although he had expected, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach reminded him that it still hurt. But then, Potter's lips parted ever so slightly, his tongue flicking lightly across Draco's lower lip, and it felt so inexplicably right. Draco tilted his head slightly to the right, experimentally letting the tip of his tongue slide over Potter's, and the marvellous little sound escaping from the back of Potter's throat let him know that he did just the right thing.

They pulled apart simultaneously, both struggling to catch their breath. Looking at Potter suddenly seemed out of the question – instead, Draco focused on the regular rising and sinking of Potter's chest. Then he felt something graze his cheek, and he realized that Potter was touching him, his thumb grazing the line of Draco's jaw, the soft caress sending a shiver through his entire body.
He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Potter's, their breaths and scents mingling in a delicious mess. Potter's hand had seized its exploration of Draco's jaw, and was now resting awkwardly somewhere between Draco's shoulder and neck, as if he wanted to draw Draco closer, but didn't quite dare. Draco decided to make things easier for him, firmly grabbing the nape of Potter's neck, pulling him in for another kiss. It was sloppier this time, more urgent – more like in Draco's dreams, with Potter's mouth hot and desperate underneath his own, hands travelling over each others bodies at lightning speed. Draco stumbled slightly as Potter pushed him up against the wall, struggling a little to regain control before eventually giving up. He found out that he didn't really mind being pinned to a wall by Potter, especially not given how brilliant Potter's thigh felt as it pushed against Draco's all too neglected crotch.

"Malfoy…" Potter breathed against Draco's cheek, and Draco took this opportunity to let his hand escape under Potter's shirt, his fingers sweeping across the flat abdomen, nails digging in to the firm skin as Potter did something glorious with his tongue against Draco's neck.

"Too many clothes" Draco managed, his voice deeper than he ever remembered it, and in an assembled effort, they succeeded in dragging Potter's sweater over his head. This left his glasses askew, but Draco managed to solve that problem by unceremoniously throwing them away in the corner – they could always Reparo them later.

"Bed?" Potter asked, his voice slightly muffled by the small kisses and bites Draco was placing on his jaw.

"You assume too much" Draco retorted, but he allowed Potter to drag him towards the bedroom anyway, kissing and groping each other as much as possible along the way. They fell down on the bed in a mess of entangled limbs, Potter half-naked and Draco still with his shirt on, although most of the buttons were already undone. They both fought for control for a few seconds before Draco gave up, once again letting Potter pin him down. It turned out to be a damn good decision, because Potter practically ripped away the remaining buttons on Draco's shirt and started doing unspeakable things with his mouth to Draco's stomach, and Draco didn't even feel embarrassed as a faint moan slipped past his lips. He was about to protest as the pressure of Potter's lips disappeared, but suddenly, he felt warm, hesitant fingertips graze his hip bone, and then, Potter undid his pants, and things turned a whole new level of unrealistic. Draco managed to sit up just as Potter's hand moved down to his inner thigh, sending a savage jolt of electricity straight to Draco's groin. He gasped involuntarily, desperately reaching out for the button of Potter's jeans, thinking that there was no way he was going to just lie there and do nothing while Potter touched him in all kinds of inappropriate places. His fingers were fumbling, but he finally got the button undone, hesitating for just a second before he realized that he was too far in to back down now. His hand slipped under the elastic band of Potter's boxes, and before he could stop himself, before he could think, his fingers closed around the warm hardness that was Harry bloody Potter's cock. Potter's eyes widened, his whole body cringing, and Draco thought that he must have either done something terribly wrong, or that he was a natural at being gay. Experimentally, he moved his hand slightly upwards, and Potter's eyes slammed shut, his nails digging in to Draco's thigh.

"Oh, God" he gasped as Draco moved his hand again, a little rougher this time.

"My name's Draco" he replied smugly, not sure where this new bravery came from. He didn't have time to think about it either, because Potter flung one arm around Draco's neck, pulling him in for another kiss, and Draco promptly forgot about everything else. Or at least he did, until Potter's hand slid in under his boxers, grabbing a firm hold of Draco's previously forgotten erection, and a million of new thoughts and sensations grabbed a hold of his mind. He struggled to slide his pants down further on his thighs as Potter did the same, giving Draco more room to do whatever it was that he was doing ('jerking off' came to mind, but he'd rather not think about that right now) to Potter. He could feel Potter's free hand reach out for his hair, and he leaned in to the touch, tilting his head slightly backwards, giving Potter a perfect opportunity to start to place wet, magnificent kisses on Draco's exposed neck. That, in combination with Potter's firm, rapid strokes to his cock was slowly pushing Draco over the edge, and he started to move his own hand faster, hoping that whatever he was doing was good enough. Potter's breath hitched, tickling Draco's skin in a deliciously tantalizing way, and he could feel that familiar tingle in his spine. With a soft moan he came over Potter's hand, the escalating, glorious sensation slowly ebbing away, and after a short while, Potter followed, hot liquid spurting over Draco's fingers and stomach. Potter's head was leaning on Draco's shoulder, his breath still tickling Draco's collarbone, and before Draco could stop himself, he placed his lips to Potter's hair, inhaling the delicious, slightly citrusy scent. They sat like that for a while without saying anything before Potter finally reached out for his wand that was sticking out of the pocket of the jeans that he was still half-wearing, casting a silent cleaning spell on the both of them. When he was done he looked up straight at Draco, his eyes wide and dark, completely unguarded. Beautiful, Draco found himself thinking.

"Can I stay?" Potter's voice was low and hoarse, and Draco swallowed hard, trying to avoid looking at Potter's lips.

"Yes" he heard himself answer before he even had time to think about it, and before he could say anything else, Potter kissed him. It was simple, just lips locking on lips for a few, short seconds, but it was still enough to make Draco shiver. They didn't say anything else as they both slid out of their paints and in under the covers, because at the moment, there really wasn't anything that needed to be said. Potter slid his arm around Draco's waist, and Draco allowed Potter to pull him closer, resting his head on Potter's chest. He faintly remembered Potter draping the duvet more securely around them before he started to drift off.

For once, he slept the whole night without dreaming a single dream about Potter.