A/N: AHH, tis finished! Maybe enough reviews will make me contemplate a sequel!
I have not even touched him and he's already writhing, Malfoy thought pleasantly as he tried to divest the Gryffindor of his pajamas – the tie was knotted and it took both fingers and teeth to loosen it. Potter shook as if he was going to jump out of his skin.
Draco kept his eyes on Potter's face the entire time he pulled down the flannel pajamas. His lips were parted as he breathed erratically – his eyes were wide with fear or was it anticipation? His obstinate chin pointed out rebelliously. Regardless of how he felt, he wasn't going to speak upon it, which suited Draco just fine.
Teasingly, Draco nuzzled the bulge protruding from Harry's plain cotton pants. And ever more the tease, he began lightly kissing the Gryffindor's quivering thigh, switching between them. He ran his fingers over the flesh, analyzing the softness, the tightness of the muscle. He was fit, impossibly so from adamant Quidditch training – Draco used to watch from the stands as the brunet lunged and ran and other exercises of the sort. He had convinced himself that he was merely looking for weaknesses, but was it just an excuse, even back then, to watch the way Potter's shirt strained across his chest?
The patience Draco promised himself he had was slowly waning. He wanted to toss Potter on the cobbled floor and pound into him. Yet somehow the blond doubted that would woo the romantic Gryffindor. He had to keep a steady pace, a luring pace or perhaps the Gryffindor might try to stop him.
His fingers inched up to caress Harry's erection through the itchy cloth binding him, delighting in the huffing above. Spurred on by Harry's obvious arousal, the blond tugged down his pants, binding his ankles together.
Potter was, of course, well endowed. His cock protruded from a mass of tight black curls, begging to be touched. Allured, Draco ran his thumb over the slit, smearing the precum there. Harry mewled responsively, tossing his head back. "Oh Merlin…oh bloody Merlin I'm going to hell," he hissed through his teeth, his body contorting as if hit by a Crucio.
Draco's salivary glands seemed to burst, filling his mouth. It was sick of him to need to taste Potter, but then again, he was on his knees for the bloody git. How mad could he get?
His tongue shot out to taste the cum leaking at the tip, sliding it down the shaft curiously before returning to the top. He scrutinized Harry's reaction, who was gasping like a fish out of water, lips parting and pursing. His emerald eyes opened wide and he stared down at Draco. Harry swallowed a couple times, but couldn't manage to find words. Then again, he didn't really need to. Draco read the need shaded over his features expertly.
Draco placed a kiss at the base of Harry's cock, kicking himself for the Hufflepuff-sensitivity of the act. As if to make up for that temporary lapse, he dragged his teeth from base to tip, smirking when the operation produced a soft howl from Harry's lips. Fueled, Draco enveloped the entire length in his mouth, making sure to keep pressure on the Gryffindor's pelvis: he was already threatening to buck his hips. Draco sucked greedily. His fingers came up to stroke the velvety flesh of Harry's balls, causing the erection to twitch inside his lips.
"Godric…. Malfoy, what if Filch catches us?" Harry ground out, his voice raspy.
"You'll just have to be quiet, won't you?" Draco shot back after he released Harry's cock with a languid suck. The idea of Harry being quiet though, was horrifying. He loved the sounds coming from the Gryffindor's lips too much to stifle them. Sighing, he unhooked the wand from his belt – not stopping his other hand's play with Harry's balls – and cast a strong Silencio as well as a series of locking charms.
He discarded his wand onto the floor with a clack, turning his attention to the brunet's body. He replaced his lips with a hand around Harry's cock. Instead, he began licking a line down from the base of Harry's erection, surpassing his testicles, to lave his arsehole.
"Oooohno, Malfoy," Harry wheezed, trying to twist away. "You're going…too far. I can't…I'm going to…." He pulled at the blond's hair painfully, wrenching him from between his thighs.
Draco glanced up at him curiously, then it dawned upon him. A virgin, eh? It only caused his own erection to throb more painfully in his trousers as he imagined stripping that title away. Carefully, Draco straightened, ignoring his knees when they protested, and pulled the shaking brunet into his arms. He stole kisses from Harry's lips (when did I start referring him by his given name?), hands caressing Harry's sides.
"I know you're a virgin, Harry. I want you regardless." Draco pitched his voice an octave lower than usual, trying to entice the brunet.
Still, Harry tried to pull away, which ultimately only caused him to frot against Draco's very hard, very excruciating erection. It dragged a desperate groan from Draco's lips. Harry stopped, slightly amazed, his eyebrows shooting into his low hairline. They both panted in silence.
"I'm not bottoming, Malfoy," Harry finally said in an attempt to sound imperious, but it fell flat.
Draco grinned, pulling his hands away from Harry long enough to pull his jumper over his head. "I somehow doubt that, Potter."
No way I'm bottoming, Harry grumbled mentally as indexed Malfoys body. He was svelte and luminescent in the moonlight, his skin abnormally pale, but still breathtaking. He reminded Harry of Greek sculptures, with the same perfect proportions and the same alabaster tone. However, unlike those sculptures, Malfoy had a long, zigzagged, puckered scar marring his chest. It was nasty, probably still painful depending on the weather. A shot of remorse left Harry temporarily light-headed and sick.
As if under a trance, Harry couldn't resist touching it. He dragged his knuckles from Malfoy's shoulder down to just below his ribcage. He looked up from under his lashes to find Malfoy's mercurial gaze staring heatedly at him, his lips twisted.
"It's in the past, Harry," Malfoy said passionately, grabbing Harry's hand. He kissed the brunet's knuckles innocently. "We were different people then, under different circumstances. And tonight, we're making the future."
"You're so tacky," Harry responded, but let Malfoy's words soothe him. He reached out for the blond, careful of the trousers and pants keeping him immobile. He placed a series of delicate kisses along the line across Draco's chest, smiling inwardly when the Slytherin began to pant.
"You've barely touched me and I think I'm going to explode," damned Malfoy murmured honestly. It was probably just said to stroke Harry's ego, but it worked. Daringly, Harry began to trace the scar with his tongue now.
Draco's palm shot out to the column by Harry's ear to steady himself. He was on the balls of his feet, leaning towards him. He smells like moonshine, Harry noted before the blond captured his lips, sucking the lower, then the upper. He tilted Harry's face up for a searing kiss that Harry hoped wasn't as finalizing as it felt. It was a chaste kiss, compared to the exploiting kisses Malfoy had given prior, but that seemed to only worsen the intimacy until Harry's heart burned his throat.
"C'mon laddy-love," Malfoy said before pausing, then smiling in spite of himself. Cautious of the bindings around Harry's ankles, he dragged them to the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower. Temporarily shocked, Harry allowed the blond to straddle him.
Methodically, Draco tugged off Harry's pajamas and pants, tossing them away. He grabbed the robes only a bit away, however, bunching them up and placing them under Harry's skull, which only made the Gryffindor smirk: like hell he was bottoming. Ignorant of Harry's plans, Draco then turned his attention to Harry's flimsy shirt, tugging it unceremoniously off and overhead.
"You're beautiful," Malfoy hummed reverently, skirting his voyeuristic hands all over Harry's frame. He dipped his head to seize a dusky nipple and Harry all but lost his mind. The blond was too good at making Harry somewhat unconscious. However, Harry needed to maintain the ability to process.
With an ample amount of strength, Harry rolled the Slytherin onto his back. His platinum eyes widened, then narrowed, probably already thinking of a sly plot, but Harry didn't allow Malfoy the time. He made quick work of Draco's belt, tossing it far away. It clanged against the railing, slipping off the Astronomy Tower entirely. The blond's trousers came next, which had a pleasant, silky feel to them. He tugged one leg, then the other, running his hands along the porcelain skin. They felt better.
Malfoy sighed and Harry immediately looked up, finding himself surprised that he actually enjoyed the sight. His cheeks were pink, and it spilled down his neck to his chest in an infectious flush. His metal eyes looked like liquid in their lusty haze, almost humane. And vulnerable.
Harry dragged his fingers along his Sectumsempra scar once again, ending the path for one less traveled. He caressed Malfoy's shoulders now, tickling the inners of his elbow, his wrists. He stopped when he found the stale Dark Mark on Draco's forearm, bending down to kiss the fading skull, as if to ease the tension before continuing his travels. Now he ran his knuckles down his flanks, his thighs, his feet (which were just as long and lithe as the rest of him, with a perfect pedicure might Harry add)…. When he ended at Malfoy's feet, he traveled the trail back upwards, his lips (and occasionally, his tongue) joined the journey. All the while Malfoy sighed or huffed or moaned, watching eagerly and patiently. He didn't mind Harry's revelry, nor did he make any movements to halt it.
Harry ended his exploration at Malfoy's stomach, petting down the fine blond hairs disappearing into his crimson pants. He quirked an eyebrow at the Slytherin curiously: either he was feeling really festive this morning or he had foreseen shagging a Gryffindor. Malfoy only huffed and squirmed.
"Don't stop there," Malfoy pleaded, wiggling his hips more fervently.
Harry shot a half-hearted smile of anxiety at the Slytherin before hesitantly drawing down the blond's drawers. Those flew off the side of the Astronomy Tower to keep company with the belt.
Malfoy's prick is pretty, Harry thought waywardly. It stood pink and proud, a measurable amount of cum leaking without even being touched. The thatch of hair surrounding it was so light it looked nearly invisible. At least I know he's a natural blond.
"Don't be scared now, Potter," Malfoy said tenderly, grabbing Harry's hand. He curled it around his cock, hissing with the contact. He arched appealingly, seeking more. "It's just like wanking, except on someone else. Or are you that immaculate you never wanked, Potter?"
"Shut up Malfoy," Harry growled. How is it that he could do that? Be so annoying after being so sweet and expect good things out of it? Harry squeezed more than was prudent around the Slytherin's cock for good measure, but of course the kinky slut liked it – he hissed a long syllabic moan that sounded slightly reminiscent of Harry's name.
Harry tugged at Malfoy's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip and down the shaft. Malfoys legs twitched now, as if he was going to kick. "Salazar," he mumbled, closing his eyes. He bucked into Harry's fist, timed to Harry's wanks. The sounds coming from his lips were certainly unholy. I'm going to hell, Harry reminded himself as his other hand, much out of its own accord, came up to fondle…FONDLE, Merlin's trousers I'm really going to hell… the Slytherin's sack. It wrenched a shout of pleasure from Malfoy's wet lips, one that vibrated straight down to Harry's groin which was still impossibly hard.
"Potter, if you keep…ah, doing that I'm going to come. I'd much rather do it inside you, if you please," Malfoy bit out, trying desperately to sound conversational.
"Who decided you'd top? If anything, I should top. I've owned you in everything else," Harry reminded him darkly, giving another tight squeeze.
Malfoy's eyes rolled back into his head, but he managed to pant, "That's the ironic pleasure about it. And not everything Potter. I could kick your arse at Quidditch anytime. I was just too distracted by the way those uniform trousers fit it." He brought his hand up for a playful slap on Harry's bum before tumbling them over. "Besides, I know the charms and you don't."
The first argument was invalid, but Harry couldn't deny the sense of the second. I'll top next time, Harry thought to cheer himself up, then realized he was already planning a next time.
"Accio!" Draco called, settling the robes underneath Harry's head with a warning glare. With wand firmly in hand, the Slytherin pushed at Harry's knees until they spread painfully wide.
"Next time I'll do everything by hand," Malfoy panted, meeting Harry's viridian stare with a smile. "But I'm really running out of patience."
Next time. "Then stop lollygagging," Harry snapped. It was bad enough he was spread open like a One-Knut rentboy – they didn't need to start in-depth conversations now!
Malfoy chuckled. "Only you can say lollygagging and still be undeniably sexy." He then broke off into a string of spells, some Harry recognized from when Ron was poring over naughty magazines to keep diseases at bay, while others were allusive. The last two, however, Harry found out the meaning the hard way. The ring of muscle in his arse felt as if it was stretched, not painfully, but uncomfortably so. The latter spell was more shocking and highly distressing – it slicked his channel with what felt like lube straight from a freezer.
"Ready Harry?" Malfoy asked, slinging the boy-in-question's legs around his waist. Harry nodded, shooting an unsure, twisted smile at the blond. He couldn't trust the blond as far as he could throw him, but one thing was for sure - Harry needed instant gratification and the Slytherin was offering it.
Despite his preparations, he was careful to enter Harry. He needed to make sure the Gryffindor felt as much pleasure as he, with the least amount of discomfort. Where he managed to swipe the Herculean patience from, however, Draco didn't know, but he would probably send an artfully penned thank you later. That's if he managed not to combust before the night was over.
"Salazar, Salazar, Salazar," the Slytherin chanted, trying to distract himself from the fact that Harry was unbelievably tight and hot and…oh Merlin.
Harry, on the other hand, was looking slightly unimpressed, and uncomfortable. But still watched Malfoy, slightly dazed with interest. Experimentally, Draco rocked himself against the brunet, making sure he was sheathed completely, as deep as possible. Harry winced, but continued to watch, a drop of sweat slicking between his eyebrows. No glasses, Draco thought suddenly. No wonder his green eyes were more intense than usual, more like fresh jade. But Draco couldn't focus too well, no. How this musing managed to find bearing in his lust clouded mind was irrelevant. What was important was satisfying the animalistic urge to fuck Harry to the dungeons.
Draco slicked out only to slam back in. This elicited a response from the Gryffindor, who arched off the ground with a gasp. Now the brunet was the one stringing a mantra of curses together, trying to keep a sense of sanity. Draco bucked again, thrusting deeper into Harry's depths, grazing his prostrate this time. Harry cried out, his head falling back with the effort, while his hands came up to claw at Draco's shoulders.
"More," he pleaded through gasps. "Faster, harder, more."
Malfoy growled his response, snapping his hips back before plunging in, creating a thundering pace. Harry found the rhythm and impaled himself downward in time to deepen each thrust eventually, deepening in the feeling. He shouted in ecstasy beautifully until Draco smothered his cries with his lips. They kissed, far more passionately than before, the Gryffindor's nails biting into Draco's flesh as if to channel some of the energy snaking in his body.
"I'm going to lose it," Malfoy groaned, snaking a hand between them to pump at Harry's leaking cock. He nearly forgot in his own ectasy. Merlin, he didn't last half as long as he ought. "Harry…you're just soo…."
"Then come!" Harry hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain.
Not until you do, lover, Draco retorted internally because his mouth was too dry. He watched Harry through the buildup of the pleasure delaying his senses and completely lost it despite his original refusal. The brunet was just so beautiful in complete ecstasy, his head thrown back, his viridian eyes opened and smoldering yet seeing nothing. Malfoy bit his tanned neck in an effort not to scream as he let go of his orgasm in a rush. He rode out the walls of pleasure crashing over him, bringing Harry to his orgasm shortly after. He coated their stomachs in his seed, sticking their flesh together when Draco collapsed.
Colors passed behind the blond's eyelids, tastes, scents, smells. All the things his senses neglected while they tried to hold his orgasm came in overwhelming waves. He could smell Harry's woodsy scent, heightened by the sweat streaking down his skin, could taste the salt on his flesh. This is new, he thought lightly, licking a bead of sweat caught in Harry's clavical. He could hear the way his lover's breath gasped underneath him, trembling in aftershocks. They shook together until the sweat dried on their skin, until their breaths became syncopated.
"That was brilliant," Harry murmured suddenly, hands coming up to stroke Draco's hair in a strange bout of intimacy.
The blond placed soft kisses over Harry's neck, where he was already starting to develop a bruise. Should I really be this torn up that I hurt him? I've hit him plenty a time afore. Draco asked himself as he tasted the tender flesh. I rather like having a claim on him...unhealthily even...but at a price of pain?
"It was," he sighed, reaching over to grab his wand. Not that there will be another, he continued sadly.
Swallowing that pill, he cast a Cleaning Spell, slipping out his flaccid cock to lie besides the brunet. As if pulled by magnetic energy, Harry rested his head on Draco's chest, slinging an arm over his waist. Draco really should have known the Gryffindor would be a cuddler. Draco didn't mind, however odd the notion was. He didn't mind being held half as much as he thought he would – then again, he didn't seem to mind anything when Harry did it. He remembered the way the brunet carefully took in all of him, caressing every patch of skin he could find reverently. Draco was beyond being modest or shameful or embarrassed now: what had he to hide? Better yet, how could he? Compared to Harry's exploitation earlier, cuddling was easy. None of Draco's ex-lovers were interested in the sensuality of sex, rather the demands, the power, the control. Yet Harry was content to drag his fingers over the Sectumsempra scar, instead of cringing in disgust as others had when Draco didn't cast a glamour.
It'll be easy to love him, Draco thought, staring down at the tanned expanse of Potter's back, the curve of his supple arse. He brought his hand up to caress the skin of Harry's lower-back, delighting when the brunet broke out in goosebumps.
"We're going to leave now, and avoid each other's gazes for days and pretend this never happened now, huh?" Harry asked quietly. He had tried not to sound so ragged, but his voice still had a raspy edge.
It took a while for Draco to come out of his reverie and actually process Harry's words. When he finally did, a sick feeling came into his stomach, killing the afterglow. Staring up at the stars, he retorted, "Only if you wish it." They were glittering, much like Harry's eyes. "Don't get Hufflepuff on me now Potter. I offered you a relationship, to be my lover. You never responded."
Harry frowned into Draco's chest. "So I'm back to Potter now?"
"No…? Harry, if you're expecting me to push you off and stride away you are mistaken." Draco tilted the brunet's head up and kissed his infamous scar, trailing his lips down his straight nose, to his twisted pout. "I want you in more ways than one. I told you this before we…."
"I know," Harry said wistfully. "I was just making sure you didn't have a Slytherin plot, or changed your mind or something."
Draco tried not to smile, but he couldn't fight it. "I do not have a plot, Harry, I assure you. Time only has the ability to tell, right?"
He twisted further into Draco's side, hiding his face under the curve of his chin, deciding not to respond. He shivered and then Draco realized they were on the Astronomy Tower, early in the morning, in February. The wind was possibly brutal since he stepped onto the Tower, but why hadn't he noticed it before? No matter now, Draco sighed, going to grab his wand, only to find it had flipped away during their activities. Again, no matter. He cast a nonverbal and wandless heating charm and Conjured a blanket, which he noted was a green similar to Harry's eyes, but not quite – it had too much blue.
Harry snuggled underneath the blanket, twining his legs with Malfoy's. "You're really good with those… wandless and all that."
Of all the conversations to choose from…. "I had a lot of practice time during the war."
"Oh," Harry murmured, voice thick with disapproval.
"That and I've been taking auror prep classes to starve away boredom," Draco added, trying to win the brunet's good graces although it was somewhat of a lie. He merely joined the auror classes in hopes Harry might be there and then to just to be spiteful.
"Really? You're interested in being an auror?" Harry's head popped out from Draco's neck to prop on his chest, atop his arms rather cutely. His green eyes were wide and sweetly inquisitive. He looked rather reminiscent of a Crup.
Resisting the urge to kiss the adorable Gryffindor, he responded, "Not particularly…. I'm more interested in learning as much about magic as I can. I do not really need to actually work. I could live off what I have inherited thus far, or go into my father's business of stock managing." Draco sighed, lips twisting at the idea. "But my mother, I believe you have met her, has taken that burden, allowing me to inspect other fields. I have considered being a freelance Curse Breaker though."
"Curse Breaker?" Harry frowned. "You mean running from country to country messing with Dark Magic."
Draco shrugged, shooting the Gryffindor a wolfish grin. "If anyone has the credentials, it would be me, don't you agree?" It was quite obvious that the brunet agreed, but didn't want to. Semi-consciously, his hand gripped Draco's forearm and caressed the Dark Mark. A shiver rolled underneath Draco's skin that was not quite pain, but also not quite pleasure.
"And you don't know yet?" Draco prodded, feeling selfish for speaking so long. His life wasn't half as interesting as Harry's.
"No… I'm not really good at one thing." The Gryffindor frowned deeper. The expression, paired with his drooping eyelids, made him look endearing and childishly petulant. "Quidditch is fun, but I don't want the publicity that comes with it. And I don't want to dedicate my life fighting dark wizards – I already spent seventeen years doing that."
"Maybe you'll feel differently at the end of the year," Draco suggested. He caressed the black mop on his head, ruffling the already haywire curls. "You have time and it is not like whatever field you choose will not welcome you gladly."
Harry yawned. "I suppose. But I don't want to be accepted just because I murdered someone, yuhnoe?"
"I do," Draco said, carding through his locks. They were soft, undeniably so, and smelled just as musky as the rest of him. "Salazar knows I do."
"You're not so bad," Harry said, breaking the silence overwhelming them, voice laden with sleep. "I don't think I'll mind you as my, uhm…lover."
Draco laughed at the unexpected statement, holding the Gryffindor tightly. "I either shagged you barmy or you're merely sleep-deprived to admit that. Hoping that it's the latter, go to sleep, Potter."
After a moment, a soft sigh came from the Wizarding World's Saviour, indicating he was completely knocked out. I'll have to work on his stamina, Draco thought wearily, continuing to rake through the brunet's hair until he, himself, fell asleep.
Harry awoke first, much to his personal pleasure. He reached out for the Slytherin, who was cocooned in blankets, only his blond hair sticking out at odd angles. Go figure, Harry thought. Of course the selfish, egotistical blond would be a blanket-hog.
Harry eased some of the sheets away and frowned when pale flesh was exposed. His nails had left deeper marks that he initially assumed – they were angry red scratches marring his shoulder blades. Some were scabbed over already, but still essentially going to scar.
"Way to start out on the right foot," Harry said hopelessly to himself, placing a kiss on the wounds. The blond shivered, but made no movements to indicative to being awake.
Harry sat up and reached around, looking for his wand. Instead, he found himself not on the Astronomy Tower, but a bed. Well that explains why my back doesn't feel on fire. However nice the notion was though, Harry was beginning to appreciate it less. By the look of the emerald green sheets, the silver hangings and what looked like a snake motif around cobbled dungeon walls, he was in the Slytherin dormitories. He's going to kill me, Harry thought immediately, looking more fervently for his wand.
He found it laid haphazardly with Draco's on the nightstand (along with the glasses he quickly affixed on his face), which settled Harry's fear. Malfoy wouldn't just leave his wand in reach if he was planning something nefarious. Calmed, he took a moment to take in the room, which seemed to be the prefect's, for it was smaller and hosted only one bed. Again, relief overcame him and then a bit of self-flagellation; he really needed to give the blond some credit.
Harry turned back to the sleeping blond with a twisted smile, trying to drink in the image he didn't have the ability to the night before. He was still sleeping peacefully, unknowing of Harry's minor breakdown. His face was relaxed and ever-still pale in the dank light of the dungeons. While in the moonlight he was blindingly luminescent, in the dungeons he seemed almost fey. Shadows danced over his sharp detailing, emphasizing them with a romantic seriousness. He was still a pointy git, but he also matured into the patrician elegance of his features, dominating them instead of vice versa. The platinum hair that was splayed across the pillows looked electrically charged and ever so soft. So beautiful…all of him, so beautiful. Harry carefully wound his hand through the fine locks, smiling when the blond leaned into the brunet's palm.
With a sigh, Harry brought his wand up to the scratches marring Draco's skin. It was the least he could do. Though, to be honest, the Gryffindor was rubbish with healing charms. He might as well try though.
"Don't you dare, Potter," Draco murmured weakly, flashing his steady gaze. "I rather like knowing you marked me."
Harry frowned, but let his wand drop away. He placed it back on the nightstand, gripping the Slytherin towards him instead until they were spooning. Harry inhaled the scent of his neck, which reminded him of amber and sandalwood, but not so heady. It was light, dizzying, like rain.
Leave it to Malfoy to make me poetic, Harry sighed.
"It's early yet," Draco purred, running his fingers over the curve of Harry arse. "Maybe I will even let you top this time."
Harry winced: his body was sore from the extraneous activities last night, especially the part of him Draco was happily caressing. Instead, he hastily responded, "I can't with all these snakes looking down at me. Don't you find them creepy?"
Draco laughed, the sound free and actually shocking. "You're lucky I managed to talk Nott into letting me borrow this room – the dormitories are worse. Opposed to all those sexy lions I bet are ravaging every inch of wall space. Mm…perhaps next time we'll go there. Though I'm sure there are anti-Slytherin wards. Or maybe the Weasels will catch my scent and hex me into next year."
"Weasleys," Harry corrected, ignoring the first true bit. "And they'll come around…unless you don't want to go public or anything…."
The blond turned around in Harry's arms, his iron gaze scorching and teasing. "After one night, you're already considering marriage. How adorable."
"M-marriage?" Harry sputtered, eyes wide. "I'm just talking about our uhm…relationship."
"I say we keep it low. Although I'm fine being your dirty little secret, Potter – no, Harry, I am sure your Gryffindor honesty would not be able to help itself." He smiled, kissing the side of Harry's neck, reassuring the brunet that he wasn't being critical. "Let's wait and see."
Harry sighed. It sounded like the best bet for now, though he was half-content. One half of him wanted to scream from the Astronomy Tower that he and Malfoy were…involved while the other half was afraid to take it so fast. Not too long ago he was trying to keep the blond at bay and now he was openly welcoming him. It was too fast to process, but then again why put it under a microscope? Harry spent too many years examining every little action - so much that he forgot to live. Whether being with Malfoy was morally right or wrong was irrelevant. Draco made him feel good, physically. That was enough for now.
The aforementioned-blond pulled himself out of the bed first, standing unashamed in his nudity. He flashed Harry a perfect smile before grabbing toiletries from the organized room. Harry watched him, taking in the quiver of his thigh, the slope of his back, the way his muscles tensed and contracted. And the blond was happy to allow Harry an opportunity to gawk. He stopped at the doorway however and flashed a sexy grin, opening it to reveal a large bath. Harry watched him play with knobs and such rather erotically, with emphasized strokes; watched him carefully fold his clothes and towels, which gave a lovely view of Draco's supple ass as he bent over. When the water filled, he shot the brunet a "come hither" glance.
"C'mon Potter. Are you going to stare, or are you going to accompany me? You need a bath too, laddy-love."
What would become of their relationship could wait, Harry decided, tossing his glasses aside while scrambling to join the blond (ignoring the twinge of pain in his arse). For now, he just couldn't find flaw in the Slytherin's devious logic, and nor would he try.