"Fuck you, Potter!"

Not-so-carefully stacked scraps of parchment flew off the desk as a skinny boy with dishevelled pale blond hair hurled around the Room of Requirement. He was soon followed by another; an even skinnier boy with even messier black hair and a wide, cheerful grin.

"Don't be a tosser, you know I didn't mean it!"

The blond skidded to a halt and ducked behind the post of a magnificent four-poster bed.

"It was your idea, Draco, I heard you myself."

The slightly shorter bespectacled boy advanced on the blond with a predatory gleam in his eye. He brandished a red and gold scarf and tried to smile appealingly.

"I was just reminiscing! You know that!"

Draco backed away, his eyes fixed on the scarf. His voice shook slightly when he tried to deter his companion.

"In fact, seeing as I've done it before, perhaps I should tie you up instead."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, leaning into Draco's and letting his breath play over Draco's ear. "If you're so against the idea, why are you hard?"

Draco closed his eyes and leaned into Harry's touch. Sometimes he hated the power Harry had over him. "Fuck you," he breathed.

Harry's laugh sent shivers down Draco's spine. "You wish," he returned, and reached his hand down…

… pulling his wand from his pocket and murmuring against Draco's neck, "Incarcerous."

Draco's eyes widened and he pulled on the scarf binding his wrists tightly to the headboard of the bed. He ignored the rush of desire that flooded through him. "You bastard," he hissed.

Harry chuckled and crawled – crawled, like a fucking cat – up the bed, hands lingering quite unnecessarily. He kissed Draco deeply and began undressing him and, really, Draco could hardly stop him. So if he moaned and arched up into Harry's touch, well, he was just playing his part. That was all.

No, screw that, Harry was bloody amazing and Draco knew it. Merlin, did he know it.

"You… you're…" he gasped, needing to share his revelation.

Harry kissed him. "Shh," he said once they'd parted. "Just let go, it's okay."

"Yes," Draco agreed mindlessly, and pushed his hips up into Harry's hand.

He vaguely heard Harry unpopping the cork of a bottle and his breathing sped up in anticipation of what was to come. Er, no pun intended.

Harry prepared him slowly and tenderly – so slowly, in fact, that Draco had practically lost the power of speech by the time Harry deemed him ready and finally – finally – pushed in; all Draco could manage was a breathless "Shit."

"I'm not hurting you?" Harry panted, a single bead of sweat making a trail down the side of his face. Draco shook his head helplessly and rotated his hips, determined that he shouldn't be the only one who couldn't formulate a sentence. It seemed to work; Harry growled and thrust forwards hard.

Oh fucking Merlin, you're good at that.

Draco pulled on his restraints, that one bead of sweat taunting him. He wanted to be able to reach out, to touch Harry, to lick it off. He wanted to be able to dig his fingers into Harry's shoulders as he rode Harry's cock.

Shit, how did I live without this?

Harry shifted, balancing himself on one hand while the other made a clumsy grab for Draco's leaking cock. Draco let out a helpless whine as Harry began to stroke it jerkily, his thrusts increasing in tempo and his breath coming in short gasps.

Fuck, Harry, I love you I love you I love you I love—


Draco's world exploded into brightness and he came spectacularly, dimly registering Harry burying himself deep into Draco's arse and letting out a litany of hoarse curses.

Draco kept his eyes closed after he'd come down from his climax, and hummed contentedly as Harry cast cleaning charms over them and settled on the bed, his head on Draco's shoulder.

Harry smiled, although of course Draco didn't see it, and placed a gentle kiss against Draco's neck, waving his hand over Draco's bound wrists and whispering with perfect tenderness, "Finite."