Part 5

Draco measured out an ounce of Puffer-fish parts and added them to the bubbling cauldron, stirring anticlockwise as he watched the potion for any signs of ill reaction. When the mixture turned a iridescent purple, he nodded to himself, a small smile of accomplishment on his face. Another few weeks and it would be ready.

Hearing sounds of movement coming from his outer office, Draco quickly cast a Stasis Spell and left the room, warding the door behind him. He turned around to see Harry moving toward him, only the tiniest hint of a wobble in his gait. The past week and a half he'd spent with Draco had seen a vast improvement in his recovery. With the aid of the potions Draco had tailored for him, as well as the reinstated use of the salve, Harry had been up and walking within days rather than the full week Madam Pomfrey had predicted, albeit with a lot of cursing and sniping at Draco when he offered help.

Neither of them had mentioned the kiss that they'd shared and it had not happened since. Well, perhaps "shared" was too loose a term given the fact that Draco had simply stood there as though he'd been hit with iPetrificus blond inwardly cursed himself for the millionth time in a week. He'd had Harry Potter, the man of his fucking dreams, willing and pliant in his arms and he'd stood there like a complete idiot and done nothing. By the time he'd regained his wits, Potter had been stuttering an apology and looking so embarrassed that Draco had been sure he'd wanted to forget the whole thing.

Things had gone back to normal - as normal as they could be with Harry Potter living in his quarters - and Draco found it both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, they were able to get on as well as ever with only the occasional moment of awkwardness. On the other, Draco was being slowly driven mad by having Harry so close and being unable to touch him. Perhaps the most frustrating and confusing thing of all was Potter's behaviour toward him. Despite the usual bickering and snarky commentary between them, Harry had actually been rather pleasant. Too pleasant, in fact. He was always smiling and leaning too close. Always finding a way to touch Draco and drive him up a proverbial wall with need. If Harry wasn't such a consummate Gryffindor, Draco would have suspected the man of doing it intentionally.

It was all too much and instead of ridding himself of his ridiculous crush, Draco could feel his infatuation deepening with each passing day. By the time he was half way through the potion he was brewing he realized that he was head over heels in love with the bespectacled git. Why else would he spend all of his valuable free time concocting a cure that would inevitably take Harry away from him? Draco knew that, more than anything, Harry wished he could fly again. Not as an instructor, but as a full-out, no-holds-barred, professional Quidditch player with the freedom to do as many stunts and dives as he could. It tugged at something foreign inside of Draco to see the painful longing on Harry's face anytime the subject arose and after only the second day of having Harry in his care, he'd begun brewing a cure.

Shaking his head slightly to clear it of lingering thoughts, he arched a brow at Harry as he moved further into the room.

"Look at that, you can walk all by yourself." Draco sniffed dramatically and dabbed an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm so proud."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry said with a small smile as he approached. Draco smirked at his response and watched as Harry came to stand before him. An odd moment of silence followed as the two men stared at one another.

"Right. Well," Harry said, a curious blush rising in his cheeks as he broke the silence. "I guess since I'm mostly healed I should finally let you have your rooms to yourself again."

"Right," Draco replied, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Another silence grew as they continued to stand and stare at one another.



They stopped speaking as suddenly as they'd started, each chuckling awkwardly. Harry blushed deeper, running a hand through his hair, a sign of nervousness that Draco could have read from a mile away. He barely had time to wonder what Harry could possibly be nervous about before the man looked up at him with a determined glint in his eyes.

Draco's eyebrows rose as Harry stepped closer, pressing his Quidditch-toned body along the length of his. Harry's hand rose slowly to wrap around the base of Draco's neck, fingers curling in the tendrils of hair at the nape as he pulled Draco down to him. The gentle brush of lips barely qualified as a kiss, but even so it had Draco's breath hitching and his blood heating instantly.

"Harry," Draco murmured his name like a reverent prayer before he pressed closer, deepening the kiss as his arms wound around the ex-Gryffindor's waist, pulling him tight against his chest.

Draco's tongue dipped out to trace the shape of Harry's mouth, causing him to gasp lightly before he acquiesced to Draco's silent request for entry. He moaned as his tongue met Harry's, his head swimming with the overwhelming knowledge that he was finally kissing the man he'd wanted for over a decade. Draco's hands began to move of their own free will as he plundered the sweet mouth moving beneath his, his fingers delving beneath the hem of Harry's shirt to caress the heated skin beneath.

All too soon, the need for air had them parting, each gasping for air as they stared at one another; Draco's hands gripping the firm globes of Harry's arse while Harry clung to his shoulders for balance.

"Fuck me," Harry said suddenly, his hooded, lust-darkened gaze boring into Draco.

The words went straight to Draco's cock, causing his already hard prick to throb almost painfully.

"Harry, I can't. You're still recovering."

"I'm fine, Draco. Please." Harry moaned as he leaned forward to lay a series of kisses along Draco's jaw. He sank his teeth into the soft patch of skin just behind Draco's ear, nibbling gently.



The word "please" coupled with the sensation of Harry's lips on his neck crushed Draco's resolve. Without warning, he gripped Harry's hips, spun him around and pressed him against the wood of the desk, his lips reclaiming Harry's with feral intensity. Draco's hands worked at the buttons of Harry's shirt, swiftly unbuttoning them to reveal a glorious expanse of toned, tanned flesh just begging to be worshiped. Leaning forward, Draco obliged, eagerly covering the warm skin with heated kisses and bites; sucking, licking and tasting his way down Harry's torso.

Harry moaned beneath the onslaught of Draco's mouth, his hands frantically working at the buttons of Draco's shirt until, finally, his hands reached Draco's abdomen. Draco moaned as Quidditch-rough hands touched him for the first time, each caress leaving fire in its wake.

"We should take this to the bedroom," he muttered between kisses even as his hand slipped into Harry's trousers to stroke his throbbing erection. The moan that came from Harry at the touch made Draco's knees weak with want.

"No. Here. Now," Harry demanded, fumbling with the clasp of Draco's trousers and shoving the offending clothing down past his slender hips. Emerald eyes darkened near to black at seeing Draco's cock freed from the confines of his trousers, the head glistening in the light of the office.

Harry swallowed thickly and glanced up into silver eyes, an unspoken question in his gaze. At Draco's nod of assent, Harry reached out, wrapped his fingers gingerly around the base of his shaft and gave it one long, tentative stroke.

"Fuck," Draco groaned, his hand stilling momentarily on Harry's prick as he arched into the inexpert touch.

Harry's eyes widened and a wicked smirk spread across his face as he got a firmer grip on Draco's prick and began to stroke in earnest.

Draco moaned again, his eyes sliding closed as Harry's hand worked him; his movements awkward at first, but with growing in confidence with each passing moment. What Harry lacked in expertise, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm. Draco's body thrummed with pleasure at each rough stroke, his knees threatening to buckle as a calloused thumb swirled over the sticky head of his cock, spreading the fluid that had gathered there. All too soon, he could feel his release approaching. Reaching down, he gripped Harry's wrist to still his movements.

"If you keep that up, I won't last," Draco warned.

Harry grinned at the proclamation, a look of unmistakable pride on his face.

Realizing that Harry had effectively robbed him of his control, Draco determined to take the lead once more. Gripping Harry's trousers with both hands, Draco dropped to his knees and dragged the cumbersome material down with him. Watching Harry from beneath a fan of white-blond lashes, Draco flicked his tongue out to taste the leaking head of the cock before him. The gasping moan of desire that came from Harry had Draco's lips twisting into a feral smirk before he leaned forward and wrapped them around Harry's cock.

Draco worked the turgid length of Harry's prick with relish, humming his approval at each and every moan and curse that fell from the brunet's lips. Strong fingers laced themselves in the soft locks of his hair as Harry began to thrust into his mouth. Sensing the man was nearing completion, Draco doubled his efforts; sucking, swirling and teasing until he felt Harry tugging desperately at his hair.

"Draco, I'm..."

Draco moaned as Harry came, hard and fast, filling his mouth with copious amounts of bitter-sweet fluid. Swallowing eagerly, he licked Harry clean with long, languid strokes of his tongue until he was shivering and begging him to stop. Finally, Draco relented and rose to place a deep, lingering kiss on Harry's lips.

Without breaking the kiss, Draco moved his hands to Harry's waist and urged him up onto the edge of the desk. Draco slipped his hands from Harry's hips to his thighs, spreading them wide as he moved to stand between them. As he teased Harry's tongue with his own, Draco let his hands wander down, drawing soft, teasing circles on Harry's inner thighs before slipping lower.

"You're sure?" Draco murmured as his fingers dipped down to trace Harry's entrance.

He arched into Draco's touch with a gasp.

"Absolutely sure," he replied, canting his hips forward as if to impale himself on the proffered digits.

A wave of lust surged through Draco at the wanton movement and he leaned in to take Harry's lips in another scorching kiss before pulling back to take a moment to fully admire the sight before him. Harry Potter - Saviour of the Wizarding World and bane of his existence for as long as he could remember – was stretched out on his desk, naked save for his unbuttoned shirt, his cheeks flushed, emerald eyes almost black and burning with desire as he waited impatiently to be touched. For iDraco/i to touch him. To make him his.

That thought finally spurred Draco into action. Reaching into the top right-hand drawer of his desk, Draco pulled out a pot of standard healing salve and unscrewed the lid. He smirked as Harry sent him a look of amusement.

"I'm a Slytherin and a Potions Master. We always like to be prepared," he said with a wink.

Leaning forward, he kissed the smile off of Harry's face, his tongue delving deep as he dipped his fingers into the salve and brought them to Harry's entrance. Harry moaned as Draco traced the ring of muscles, spreading the self-warming substance before pressing one finger into him. Harry gasped at the intrusion and instantly tensed against it.

"Relax, love," Draco murmured against Harry's lips, barely registering his use of the endearment as he gently eased his finger in and out of his tight hole. "I know it's off-putting at first, but it will get better. Trust me."

Whether it was his ministrations or his request for trust that inspired it, Harry's muscles instantly began to loosen. Draco's eyes opened and met hooded green filled with so much emotion that he couldn't look away if he'd wanted to. Withdrawing the first finger, Draco reinserted two more, working them in gently, yet firmly, confident that the healing properties of the salve were doing their job and effectively easing any discomfort Harry would feel.

Any worry regarding Harry's enjoyment was immediately eliminated by the cry of pleasure that came from him when Draco glided over his prostate. A wicked smile curved Draco's lips as he went about toying with that spot and turning Harry into an incoherent, babbling mess of need. Harry's renewed erection throbbed and twitched between them, red and weeping and utterly perfect.

"Now! Draco, please, now!"

The last of Draco's control snapped at the desperate plea. Slipping his fingers from Harry's entrance, he gathered more salve and quickly slicked his cock, ignoring the mess he made as it dripped with too much of the stuff. Gripping Harry's hips, he pulled him to the edge of the desk and lined himself up with his hole, pressing into him in one long, swift movement.

The tightness of Harry's walls around him had Draco seeing stars and his body shaking as he fought not to end it there and then. Once he was certain he wouldn't ruin the moment, Draco pulled out almost completely and slammed back in with a moan. Harry answered with a cry of pleasure and wrapped his legs tighter around Draco's hips, demanding more. Draco obliged, giving in to the animalistic urge to fuck. The sounds of flesh on flesh and the slick, delicious pounding of Draco's cock slamming into Harry's willing body filled the air, dancing around them along with moans and shouted oaths of pleasure.

Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, Draco adjusted the angle of his hips slightly so that every hard, punishing thrust drove his prick over Harry's sweet spot, tearing a litany of curses mixed with a reverent chant of Draco's name. Wrapping a steadying arm around Harry's waist, Draco brought his slick hand between them and stroked Harry's aching cock, bringing him over the edge with two firm strokes. The combination of Harry clenching around him and his desperate cry of pleasure had Draco following him mere moments after.

He rode out his pleasure, continuing to thrust deep into Harry until he had spent himself entirely. Draco leaned heavily against the desk, his forehead meeting Harry's as his shaky legs struggled to hold him up.

"Stay," he panted.

"Okay," Harry replied breathlessly.

Draco nodded against Harry's head and tried to catch his breath. As his heart slowed, Draco found himself smiling like an idiot before a giddy chuckle escaped him. He felt Harry's frown of confusion, but he couldn't help himself when his chuckle turned into a full blown laugh.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, obviously trying and failing to keep the insecurity from his voice.

Draco giggled a bit more before he finally managed pull back and answer.

"I've just fucked Harry Potter on the former desk of Severus Snape."

Harry's eyes widened in shock before his lips spread into a smile and a delighted laugh escaped him, causing Draco to moan as the action had Harry's walls clenching around the cock still buried in his arse.

"I wonder where else we can manage to fuck," Harry said with mirth and challenge shining in his eyes.

"I can think of a few places."


Two weeks later, Harry discovered that he was truly happy for the first time since his Quidditch accident. He was moderately healthy, a decent professor and completely in love.

Once they had broken past the barrier of uncertainty by way of mind-blowing sex on Snape's old desk – something that still brought a smile to Harry's face whenever he thought about it – Draco had proven himself to be both insatiable and daring. Harry had found himself in more compromising situations in the last two weeks than he'd ever thought possible; including a very exciting late-night encounter in McGonagall's chair at the Head Table.

They bickered as much as ever, many aspects of their rivalry carrying over into their sex life, but Harry found this only made their encounters more intense. They constantly challenged each other and despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, they seemed to fit perfectly.

Harry found himself missing Quidditch less and less the closer he got to Draco. He was slowly beginning to think that he could live happily at Hogwarts with the blond at his side. Of course, he still had no idea how Draco felt about him. Sure, he was attracted to Harry, that much as obvious by the sheer number of times they shagged each day. Draco just didn't seem to be able to keep his hands to himself whenever Harry was around, not that he was complaining.

Harry knew that Draco cared about him, but he had no idea how deep his emotions went. In the end, Harry found that, for now, he was content with what they had. Merlin knew Draco wasn't an overtly emotional person and Harry was certain if he broached the subject, he'd only push him away. He'd just have to be grateful for what he had and stop wishing for things he didn't.

Nodding absently to himself, Harry returned his attention to the Quidditch match just in time to declare Gryffindor the winner.


Draco peered into the cauldron, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight of the light-blue potion within. The mixture was complete and swirling in a sick mirror of his own emotions. There was a large part of him that felt proud that he'd been clever enough to concoct such a potion in the first place. This would revolutionize healing as the world knew it, and Draco would be the man behind the saving of many lives. But there was only one life he was interested in at the moment, and this cure would likely be the catalyst that sent him back to a life of professional Quidditch and away from Draco's arms. He refused to think about that now though. All he could think about was the joy he'd see in those emerald eyes when he told Harry that he would be able to fly like he wanted again.

It was time to give Harry back his life. A life of fame, freedom, and excitement. A life without Draco.

Stifling the vicious pang of pain that stabbed through him at the thought, Draco ladled the potion into a glass vial. He corked it and held it up to the light. There, sparkling innocently in his hand, was the end of his relationship with Harry. For a moment, Draco debated not giving it to him. Surely he deserved some sliver of happiness after the turmoil that was his life? He could smash the vial and Harry would never know that he'd had freedom so close at hand. They could be happy together. Only the memory of Harry's face, sorrow and longing etched in his beautiful features, had him abandoning that idea.

With a heavy sigh, Draco slipped the potion into his pocket and went to find the man he loved. He found him sooner than he might have liked, sitting in front of the fireplace in Draco's own living room as if he belonged there. Harry turned and offered a warm, welcoming smile that had Draco's resolve wavering. What harm could come of waiting a few more weeks before giving Harry his cure? Or even a few months?

Swallowing, he cursed his loss of Slytherin selfishness and strode purposefully over to the Gryffindor, pressing the vial into his hand before he could further doubt himself. He turned away, unable to look into the confused eyes of his lover and instead cast his gaze toward the fire.

"What's this?" Harry asked in a whisper so faint it was barely audible. "This doesn't look like my weekly regimen."

"That's because it's not," Draco replied, an edge to his voice. "It's a cure," he added simply, as though he hadn't just handed Harry a vial containing the key to his deepest wishes.

"A cure?" Harry repeated, a look of hope mingling with his confusion.

"It will heal your original injury as if it never happened," Draco boasted. "Feel free to worship at my feet and name your firstborn after my brilliance."

Draco looked at him again. Harry stared at the vial of blue liquid, ignoring Draco's haughty words as a myriad of emotions flitted across his expressive face; disbelief, awe, hope. He looked up at Draco, his eyes filled with confusion and an emotion Draco refused to name.

"I don't understand. This is what I've dreamed of ever since that first night in St. Mungo's. Why...why would you do this for me?" he asked, turning the vial over and over in his hands like a precious stone.

Draco shrugged negligently, doing his best to appear detached and clinical. "I had some free time. Besides, I can't continue to let you sulk through the castle like a tarnished suit of amour, now can I?"

Harry blinked and looked from the vial to Draco and back again, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Oh Merlin….oh fuck."

"What did you think this was?" Draco demanded, catching the look of recognition in Harry's gaze. "I've shared my bed with you, shared my life with you and every day I feel the waves of displeasure while you're thinking about the life you lost. Don't you think I know that being at Hogwarts was your second choice, a choice forced on you by an injury? Don't you think I realize that I'm your consolation prize?"

"I don't want the cure," Harry stated firmly, pressing the vial back into Draco's palm.

"That's preposterous," Draco growled, trying to shove it back at the petulant Gryffindor, but Harry would have none of it.

"All this time, I've been feeling sorry for myself, whinging about never being able to fly again, never feeling that joy, when this whole time I've had something that brings me more joy than flying iever/i did. No. If gaining back the life I lost means losing this one, if it would mean losing you, I don't want it," Harry said, his voice deep with conviction.

Draco's heart skipped a beat at Harry's words and the love he heard within them. Harry loved him. Enough to give up Quidditch and life as he had known it. Harry Potter loved him enough to give up his passion for flying and freedom. It was inconceivable and unbelievable and the knowledge of it filled Draco so completely that he thought he would burst from the sheer, unadulterated joy that overwhelmed his heart.

"You know," he said, his mood significantly lightened by Harry's words and intoxicating proximity. "You could always take the cure and decide inot/i go back to being a professional Quidditch player," he mused aloud. "That is…if there is something to keep you here?"

"Well," Harry whispered, closing the distance between them, "I would feel like rubbish if I missed out on Creevey making Captain next year."

"I see," Draco replied bitterly, his lips curled into a tight frown that Harry wasted no time in attempting to kiss away.

"And of course, there's you," Harry whispered against his lips. "Tell me, Draco, would you tire of having me in your bed every night?"

Draco shrugged, pursing his lips imperiously. "I might, but we could always wait and see."

Harry smiled and pressed closer, taking Draco's lips with his own. As Harry deepened the kiss, Draco moaned, tightening his grip on him as his heart raced and his head spun. No. He didn't think he'd ever tire of this.