Summary: A little punishment was in order, they told him. Harry couldn't agree more. Draco had been making his life complicated since the beginning of training.

Warnings: Slash (male on male relationship), sex, language

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. No infringement intended.


It had been an accident, that kiss.

Draco had somehow become a part of Harry's life, and for the life of him he couldn't remember how. One minute, he was signing up to the Auror training program, and then next he was stepping into his dorm, hollering for his roommate to make himself known. So when Malfoy stepped around the corner, a muggle lollypop captured between his lips, and a slow grin working its way onto his lips, Harry had felt a sense of foreboding. Their floor leader had forewarned the troops that the floor plan was set and if he wanted to switch rooms, he'd have to organise it with another tenant. That night in bed, he had resigned himself to being stuck with the annoying git. He didn't even bother asking anyone; he felt he was the only one with enough balls to face Malfoy every morning.

They had driven each other insane for two years. Harry would often bitch to Hermione and Ron, and hid from their little flat when just seeing the blonde's face made him want to take a swing at him. But whenever he returned, he'd find Malfoy in a pitiful state; either curled up on the couch or sulking around their small apartment, fiddling with Harry's muggle kitchen appliances (to which he showed no mercy). Each and every time Harry found him in that state, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been waiting for him to return.

Then their third year came, and along with it a placement position as a junior Auror and a small pay cheque. There were no third year dorms, and they were all required to find their own accommodation outside of the Academy. They said it was to 'prepare them for the outside world'. Give them pay, help them find a flat, and even offer support for getting them set up. Though Harry tried to not connect the two, Malfoy had grown into a particularly foul mood ever since they first found out.

Those had been the worst four weeks of Harry's training. Malfoy had complained and moaned about everything in sight. Harry's clothes lying on the floor, his magazines strewn about the place ("Not even in fucking order of release!") the kitchen appliances (again) and Harry's friends.

It took a hint from Parkinson, of all Merlin's creatures, to make things suddenly click. She had quite blandly told him to, "Hurry up and ask him to move into a flat with you." Then proceeded to inform him that, "The little shit is grinding on my last nerve, and it's your fault. Fix it."

But he hadn't asked. Instead, he had stewed over it for two days, connecting each and every dot whenever Malfoy made a scene and finding himself bizarrely gleeful that Malfoy was (in an odd way) upset about parting ways; never mind that they had every class together and he had insinuated himself into the seat beside Harry in each one.

Then, one foul day when the heavens had opened and decided to piss on a perfectly good weekend, Harry had been browsing through a pamphlet of a new apartment complex. Malfoy had waltzed in and spotted him, but instead of flying into a rage, his shoulders had slumped. Harry vividly remembered he didn't like the defeated look that appeared in Malfoy's eyes when he caught sight of the little leaflet. Not one bit. A put-out looking Draco made something in his stomach clench.

"Come over here," he remembered saying, past the lump in his throat.

Malfoy had scrunched his nose up and eyed him as though he were cruel. "No."

Just as the git had been about to leave and hide himself away in his bedroom, Harry had sighed dramatically and said, "Fine, and here I thought you'd be interested in where I think we should move to."

The cautiously hopeful look in Malfoy's eyes had made Harry grin and wonder why he had taken so long in the first place. When he dangled the pamphlet up high and uncrossed his legs, Malfoy had nearly flown across the room, snatched the advertisement from Harry's grip and dumped himself into his lap.

Incidentally, that was when Harry had begun to notice him. Physically notice him, since it was hard not to notice the sod when he was strutting around making loud complaints about everything in sight. The Slytherin had been so god damned excited, wriggling around in Harry's lap and squirming to get comfortable, Harry had immediately become hard, and had to grip the blonde's hips to stop him from leaning back and discovering something he couldn't explain. It hadn't helped. Malfoy's hips were small, and the bones jutted out around where his fingers were placed. Then he had turned and looked down at him questioningly, and Harry had to fight back thoughts of losing it and devouring the unsuspecting blonde.

He had fooled around with two guys in the past. One during his returning 'eighth' year at Hogwarts, the other not seven months ago. He was cautiously bi, yet not caring enough to come out to the Wizarding world. Hermione knew, of course, and though he hadn't told Ron for fear of rejection, he suspected he knew too. He still saw the occasional girl, but none of them held his interest and Ginny had become fed up of him and began fooling around with other guys. Whether to insight some deeply buried jealousy in Harry or just have trysts because she wanted to, he didn't dare find out.

The move had been smooth with Zabini, Ron and Hermione's help. Malfoy had been so unbearably giddy (and pants at hiding it) that Harry could barely see the sneering boy he used to be at school. He wondered if this was a side only the Slytherin's had ever saw, and if that meant Malfoy had definitely come to think of him as a friend, being free to relax around him.

Then he had begun imagining they were moving in under other circumstances. Like Harry asking him to, because they were close like that and why not share a bed? It'd be warm in the winter. Then they could curl up on the couch together-

But he had immediately stopped all that nonsense with a horrified realisation, and then stored it in a corner of his mind to gather dust. Erasing or forgetting it altogether didn't seem to be at all possible.

The party which started the turn of events (the kiss) had been during the third year initiation week. Donalds had organised the whole thing, dragging them out to the most ludicrous, muggle night club not five blocks from the Academy. The place was almost obscenely heterosexual, which Harry would have fit right into had he not had a lap full of squirming blonde recently. Now, he couldn't even bring himself to appear interested in the girls who kept swaying up to him for a dance.

Malfoy, however, had situated himself dead centre in the dance floor with five different men. Harry's eyes had bogged, and with a cursory glance around their group (who either didn't care, or were oblivious) he found that none were surprised. The patrons around them were openly staring, and Harry caught one or two thankful smiles among the men, who later joined the growing group.

Only Malfoy, he had thought fondly.

But as the night wore on, Harry's humour in the situation slowly drained. Malfoy was now pressed the entire length of some bandy punk's body, giggling - giggling! – at something he whispered in his ear. He was definitely wasted, had been halfway there before they'd even left home, which he should have realised when there seemed to be no reservations about dancing with muggles. Though no longer openly racist, he still held himself stiffly around them. Just as Harry was debating his rights as a roommate to intervene when the blonde was clearly not in the right state of mind, some even drunker fool had wrapped both arms around the lithe blonde and hoisted him in the air and away from the affronted punk.

Their Auror group had now become interested, but not in the way they should have been. After a few rounds of drinks, they'd turned from being the next generation's line of protectors to rowdy school boys, spurring on the fight.

Malfoy had become abruptly sober, struggling and bargaining with the man to leave him be, but the punk he had been grinding against was neither patient nor understanding. He had stepped forward and ripped Malfoy away by his arm, then began to have a scrap with the drunk, never mind he was taller than them both and build like a mountain. Harry had crossed the dance floor in a heartbeat, his chest pounding with a mixture of music and panic. When he had found the blonde standing at the side-line, lip curled, arms crossed and clearly unimpressed as he watched the two, Harry had taken his arm (gentler than the punk had) and steered him towards the exit.

"What are you doing? Let go!"

"You're wasted Malfoy, and the centre of a fight is not where you want to be as junior Auror."

Harry left no room for struggling. With his delayed growth spurt he had somehow gained a whole head and a half on Malfoy, and he had much broader shoulders and longer legs. The blonde was struggling to keep up with his fast pace, never mind fighting to be freed.

Outside, the flashing, loud lights inside the murky nightclub, and the smoky, tainted air were replaced for the more calming light of the moon and the faint glow of streetlamps. The bouncers gave them a gruff nod, before admitting two more into the club from the line outside, but they ignored the muggles.

The air, unfortunately, had hit Malfoy. He slumped almost immediately once they passed the queue of muggles, but Harry accepted his weight, threw the sod's arm over his shoulders and wrapped his around the blonde's waist. His very trim waist.

"M'not tired," Malfoy argued, despite the fact Harry hadn't suggested he was.

"Come on, let's go home. Never thought I'd see the day the great Draco Malfoy willingly fornicated with a muggle."

Malfoy had snorted, then paused and mulled over the thought. "Wasn' forn'cating."

"Might as well have been," Harry snapped, trying desperately to keep from losing his cool and allowing his jealousy to make him sound bitter.

But he must have cocked up somehow, because no sooner than they turned down the apparition point (a back lane which smelt strongly like garlic and week-old rubbish), disapparated back home and landed in their living room, Malfoy was grinning up at him. Harry tensed all over.

"Aw, Pot-Pot, if you wan'ed ta dance wi' me, all you had'ta do w's ask"

Irritably, Harry had denied all images of dancing slowly with the little git, dragged Malfoy into his bedroom and dumped him on the bed. When he landed, he had broken out into laughter and flung his arms above his head. Harry didn't look at the skin of his stomach, from where his shirt had risen. Not even for a peek.

While he laughed, Harry had got down on all fours and began unfastening Malfoy's boots. It had been a struggle in itself when the blonde idiot began making a game of it and tugging his feet away like a child.

"Tryin'na get me in bed, Pot-Pot?" He broke off to snigger at the new nickname, while Harry bit down his rising frustration. "Didn' know you had it in you."

When he stood up again, he found Malfoy had ditched his shirt while he'd been distracted, and despite his best intentions, he ogled. Unlike himself, Malfoy was thin, with a perfectly flat stomach and smooth pecks, upon which sat two pink nipples.

Even better; Malfoy had his stomach pierced.

The groan he'd been biting back rose lowly in his throat, and came out more a growl than anything else. Malfoy's laughter died in his throat when Harry caught his eyes, and he felt smugly satisfied that the traces of mirth were wiped from his face. Satisfied that Malfoy was now taking him seriously.

He couldn't help himself, he would repeat over and over again later. Malfoy's eyes were still a little misty from the drink, and oh so silvery. His hair had been thrown into disarray with his struggling on the bed, and there was a delightful flush spread over both cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Harry bent down and captured his pink lips.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath through his nose– because it had to be Draco now he was pressed intimately against his face – and didn't waste any time in reciprocating. His arms wrapped themselves around Harry's neck to drag even closer, and then his lips parted. An open invitation if Harry had ever saw - felt – tasted one.

His taste was addicting. Alcohol (something fruity and girly he would remember to tease him about later) and something distinctly Draco he couldn't put a name to. He wasted no time in shoving his tongue in the blonde's mouth, and was rewarded with a deep moan and long fingers tangling in his hair, all the while their tongues battled and Harry traced every contour of his mouth. God, he tastes like paradise.

Harry broke the kiss unwillingly, yet the need for air was strong. They both gasped when they split, still intimately close and nearly touching, but Harry wasted no time in lowering his head and sinking his teeth into the delectable, pale neck on offer. Draco whined and tugged at Harry's hair, but he didn't let up as he proceeded to kiss, lick and suck every inch on show. His own hand had reached up to grab a handful of fair blonde hair, so he could tug his face to the side and reveal more skin for Harry's perusal, while the other was tracing down the blonde's side, towards the metal piercing in his stomach.


Malfoy panted when he dipped a finger into his belly button and fiddling with the metal there, but though he was enjoying himself, Harry felt fingers go slack in his hair and the panting soon evened out into deep breathes.

Reluctant to break away, yet knowing exactly why Malfoy had gone silent; Harry withdrew from the reddened area of skin and looked up into Malfoy's peaceful face. The git had passed out on him.

The reality of what had almost happened (and what had happened) hit him full force, and he detangled the blonde from around his neck and stepped right back from his bed, as though proximity was the trigger to his actions. It probably was, too. His own breathing was harsh and he was unbearably hard and dying for some release.

He left the room quickly, yet not before tugging the covers up and over the blonde in bed so he didn't catch a chill, and made his way for his own room. Once inside, with the door locked and a silencing charm thrown up, Harry had thrown his clothes to one side, collapsed in his bed, slicked his hand and worked himself to an unsatisfying orgasm, with Draco in his mind and his name on his lips.

He was royally fucked.

The weeks that passed the incident were testament to that. They were almost as difficult as the few in which they were told they had to move out of the dorms. Only Malfoy wasn't sulking or throwing his temper around.

It started with harmless jokes between the two, then Malfoy would be catty about anything in sight, but the complaints didn't last long and Draco became unbearable to live around. At first, it was the sod leaving his things out in the open, in between doorways for Harry to trip over, then the deliberate pranks started and it was as if they were back in school again.

Harry would return home minutes after the blonde to find all of his robes sporting little Slytherin snakes, or his appliances – what was with Malfoy and his appliances! spitting out an odd combination of food and metal and sludge. Once, he'd been awoken to the sound of a rooster from his alarm clock, which he couldn't shut up and grew louder by the minute, and his shampoo had been tampered with until his hair grew tight, Edwardian curls he couldn't smooth out.

He had grown fed up pretty quick, and though Malfoy was the one behind the pranks (he wouldn't be surprised if he had help from his old Slytherin cronies) he was also becoming more and more sombre and nasty. Harry was convinced he could remember that night and was punishing Harry for taking advantage of him.

Draco had always watched him when they lived together. Harry would catch the looks, but they were innocent and often brushed off with a smile from the blonde. But now, when Harry caught him staring, it was an odd mix of emotions he hadn't believed the blonde could feel, let alone show. He looked desperate and impatient, like he was about to burst. But when Harry caught him, there were no smiles or innocent shrugs. Draco would turn away with a scowl or wrinkle his nose and ignore him.

He took it up with his friends one night when Draco had left to go clubbing with the two gay guys three doors down. He called Zabini in particular, but when he flooed over to the Italian's bachelor pad, he found Parkinson there, sitting with a cup of tea in hand and regarding him with a cold look.

"Okay, what the hell did I do?" He burst out, collapsing into the couch without being invited.

The place was quite classy, but he had expected no less from purebloods like Zabini. Thankfully, there was no green or silver. Just warm browns, mochas and the occasional hint of red he had to give a double look. Still, the furniture was pompous, with engravings in the wood, and weird quilt work to the tight cushions. It fitted Zabini to a T.

Zabini had exchanged one hopeless look with Parkinson and then turned back with a long, suffering sigh.

"You kiss him within an inch of his life, left a pretty big reminder of what you two had done on his neck, and then…"

"Nothing," Pansy finished Blaise's thought, draining her cup and placing it atop the Moroccan coffee table.

Harry had sighed and held his head in his hands. "I knew he remembered."

"Of course he did," Pansy blew up, standing up and rounding the coffee table to sit on the arm of the couch beside Harry. "He's been pining for you since you started training!"

"He- what-?"

"Oh come off it, Potter," Zabini cut in with a roll of his eyes. "Why do you think he kicked up such a fuss when you were made to move out? Why do you think he was so excited to move, if not for the fact he was with you?"

Harry gawped at the two Slytherins, who uncomfortably looked away and dropped the why's and how's of that conversation. Harry guessed Draco had left even them uncomfortable with the emotions he'd been showing during the move, even if Pansy had looked at him fondly all day and even patted his head like some sort of excitable dog.

"…then you give him a piece of the action and don't follow up." Realising Pansy had been speaking, Harry snapped back to attention.

"He fell asleep!" Harry barked back indignantly.

Though Zabini snickered at this, he lost his joy at a venomous look from Pansy. "And the morning after? You didn't mention it, or even hint that it had happened. You made him confused and it wasn't until he looked in the mirror and seen a huge fucking hickey that he even realised he hadn't dreamed it all up."

Harry winced and leant back in his seat. "He was drunk out of his mind, then he fell asleep and I realised what I had nearly done. I was taking advantage of him!"

Pansy swatted the back of his head, and he immediately shut up. "You're right that he wouldn't have wanted you two to shag under the influence. I think he'd have rather remembered being with you."

"He… still wants me to…" Harry trailed off, confused. He had been so sure Draco was punishing him for having touched him at all. "Why all the pranks, then?"

Pansy smirked, no doubt thinking about said pranks maliciously. Harry just knew she had been in on some of them. "He wanted your attention. Let's face it Potter, you forgot about him after the incident."

"No I didn't," Harry denied with a firm voice. Pansy and Blaise watched him speculatively. "So what do I do, then? How do I go about this?"

Blaise smirked, and Pansy handed over the reigns' with a grin. "Fuck him into the mattress."

Harry spluttered, about to deny doing anything like that, but Blaise continued.

"Now wait a minute, Potter, Draco isn't one of your girl interests. Besides, what's a little punishment? I guarantee he'll be hard in under a minute if you put him in his place."

Burning from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, Harry stared at Blaise in silence. He wasn't naïve enough to discount the fact Blaise knew Draco would get hard off a little rough treatment, and his stomach burned irritably enough that a glare came easy to his face.

"He does?" He asked through gritted teach, to which Pansy began to laugh at.

"That's the spirit."

"Take it out on him, Potter," Blaise said, holding his hands up wearily.

"So that's it?" Harry asked for confirmation, resigned to the task ahead. "The answer to all these problems? 'Fuck him into the mattress?'"

Blaise smirked and gestured towards the floo. "Don't be gentle unless you love him, Potter." He said by way of goodbye, when Harry paused by the fireplace. "He looks into things, you see, and if you're gentle, you'll never be rid of him."

He didn't bother mentioning he was hardly ever going to be rid of him after the moving in issue. He suspected they already knew, in any case and their words were chosen so he didn't panic.

When he returned to the living room of their flat, realising he'd been gone an hour, he found a trail of clothing left lying out around the couch. His stomach dropped, but he didn't have to look far. When he followed the trail, Draco hadn't even made it to his bedroom. He was hurriedly discarding the shirt of the bastard pressed up against him, and avoiding every kiss aimed at his lips. Which meant his neck and everything below was free reign.

"What the fuck, Draco?" Harry yelled, unable to help himself, now the simmering anger had exploded in his stomach.

Draco yelped and pushed his pursuer away to turn and stare at Harry. His eyes widened, and then his mouth opened as if to explain, before clamping shut. His eyes narrowed warningly at Harry, and then he tugged the stranger back against his chest.

"Do you mind, Potter?"

"In fact, I think I do," Harry spat in return, storming over and ripping the stranger away from Draco. He didn't care for Draco's astonished surprise, or how much of a scene he was making. The blonde jumped and tried to pry Harry's fingers from his lay, but Harry shook him off them pushed the man to the living room. "Get your shit and get out."

The man stumbled and hurried to comply Harry being a good head taller - no spine at all - then hurried out through the door, which Harry locked with his wand a moment later. Once he replaced the wards, he turned around to find himself in full view of a fuming Draco.

"What the fuck, Potter? What the hell gives you the right?"

"So your own rules are a pile of bollocks now?" Harry yelled right back, grabbing Draco's wrist and forcing him to follow into Harry's bedroom, where he kicked the door shut.

Draco was too mindless in anger to even realise where he was being led. But that suited Harry perfectly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Rule number five," Harry mocked, the perfect imitation of a stuck up version of Draco. "Don't bring your lays in full view please, Potter, and I won't mine. Merlin knows we don't want to have to replace the carpet when I throw up all over it."

Draco gaped, and Harry tugged him from the door and towards his bed, walking him backwards. "That was when we were in the dorm! We don't even have fucking carpet in the living room!"

Harry tugged him closer until he was up close in Draco's face. Then, then, Draco realised exactly where they were and just how close Harry was. They stood chest to chest, with Harry leaning down in Draco's face. "I. Don't. Care."

Then Harry smashed their lips together and Draco melted in his arms. Or perhaps melted wasn't quite right. He struggled and tugged at anything Harry wore until the Gryffindor found himself shirtless, with his belt undone and hanging loose. He briefly wondered if Draco was punishing him as much as he was punishing the blonde, but took charge a moment later. He'd already been punished enough since that night with all those stupid pranks.

Draco's hands came to rest in his hair, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to find that Draco didn't taste of alcohol this time around, despite the fact he had told him he was heading to a nightclub. A wizard one this time.

All the better, Harry thought as he picked Draco up by his hips and deposited him on his bed. The blonde made the sexiest noise when he hit the bedspread, but Harry swallowed it up with his mouth and lowered his hands to tug and discard the blonde's pants.

"Ha – ah – Harry," Draco moaned, pawing at Harry's exposed chest.

"Shut up," Harry snapped, still mad at the blonde for all the torture he'd put him through the past few weeks. For the sight of the cheap bastard in the hallway who had him pressed against the wall. For the knowledge that Zabini knew he liked things to be a little hard.

As though only just remembering, Harry pulled back forcefully and pushed the blonde back so he knew he wasn't the one in control.

Draco yelped and pushed to his elbows trying to lever himself up so he could give Harry the full force of his disgruntled look.

"Don't dare look at me like that," Harry warned, tugging the blonde's pants away from his arse and down his creamy thighs. Draco silenced and looked wide-eyed at him. "You've put me through hell since that night."

"So you do remember," Draco snapped angrily.

Harry tugged free the pants from his bare feet, and then delivered a warning slap to Draco's uncovered thigh. He was even better than Harry imagined. Spread out on his black covers, every inch of his pale skin seemed to illuminate. His legs were long, despite being average height, and once rid of his underwear, Harry could barely keep his hands from him.

He was completely smooth and hair-free. Gods, if that didn't finish the job and have Harry hard in an instant.

Draco struggled to sit up and equal the odds, but Harry had had enough. He yanked Draco by his legs, until he could only hover with his weight resting on his shoulders and head. Kneeling down in front of him, he curled an arm around his back-to-front waist, and then hoisted him up so his bare arse rested against Harry's chest. He squawked indignantly, about to protest, but embarrassment took precedence when he realised his legs were spread, toppled to either side of his head, exposing himself fully to Harry's greedy gaze.

"Wait, what are you-?"

Harry slapped down hard again, and Draco whimpered. "Shut up." Then he looked down at the parted globes of the blonde's arse, which were in full view.

He leant forward, not really sure of what he was going to do until the smooth skin and shy, pink hole called to be tasted. Eyes darting up, he hooked Draco's gaze then dragged his tongue along the pucker. Draco's eyes widened impossibly while Harry teased him, but hooded soon after, in an effort to keep holding Harry's stare. He bit his lips, squirming in Harry's hold, then threw his head back and moaned when Harry poked at him and dipped inside.

"Ahh… Harry…"

The Gryffindor ran his fingers across the soft stomach he held, until he encountered the metal ring again. A devilish smile worked its way on his face. He had hardly let the memory of Malfoy's piercing die, along with that kiss. He had fantasized about getting a hold on it and twirling it between his fingers, much like he had been doing before Malfoy fell asleep. Without a second thought, he pinched at the piercing, rubbing and nipping it then dipping his finger in his belly button.

Draco was whimpering and squirming under his assault, unable to string together two words now, so Harry pressed on until the blonde was completely undone. He lathered the little pucker until it was drenched before he forced his tongue past the tight ring of muscles, and the blonde's back arched from where it rested against Harry's thighs.


Harry leant back and observed his work. Draco's muscles were quivering now and the blonde had begun to pant and wriggle for more attention. He fiddled around in the pocket of the jeans he still wore until he clutched his wands, and then aimed a lubricating spell at his two fingers. Once drenched in shiny, smooth oil, he sunk a finger into Draco's arse.

The blonde pushed up onto his hands and watched him deliriously.

"This is what you wanted, right?"

Draco nodded numbly, and then twisted around to lift his arms above his head. His eyes were unfocused, and his pupils blown up and filled with lust. Harry sunk in a second finger and began pumping the blonde's channel right before his gaze.

"Come on," Harry said heatedly, barely recognising his own voice. The sight of his finger disappearing right down to the knuckle had Harry's already straining member twitching to be in its place. "I want to see you squirm."

Draco bit his lip and pushed up to meet Harry's two fingers, causing the brunette to groan and tighten his hold around Draco's waist. When Draco managed pulled away, Harry pushed in another finger and began stretching to accommodate him.

Draco stopped and clenched his eyes shut tight, and though his mind kept telling him this was punishment, he let the blonde drop back to the bed sheets and ran his free hand along his thigh. "Relax," he soothed him. Slowly, the muscles surrounding his fingers gave way and softened, and then Draco began pumping again, slower this time, and careful, with his knees bent on either side of Harry's hips.

Harry forced his fingers further and further inside Draco, determined to find the little bundle of nerves which would make the Slytherin squeal. Once he found them, Draco cried out and forced himself back onto Harry's fingers, urging for more.

Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself focused. Draco's cheeks were flushed and slack, his arms still thrown above his head for leverage to push down onto the intrusion. Adding Draco thrusting into his fingers wantonly was Harry's undoing, and he pulled his fingers from Draco and got rid of his pants, while he watched Draco's hole quiver and pulse.

"Harry… Harry…" Draco kept mumbling. When Harry situated himself once more, closer this time, he spat into his hand and ran it over his red, hot erection with a hiss.

"Harry… please…" Draco wrapped a hand around the nape of Harry's neck and tugged him down for one desperate, open-mouthed kiss.

Then, he was sinking into the blonde's tight heat, his mouth opening into a silent moan. Draco's arse clenched around him, as though never wanting him to leave, and Harry had to hold still and grip the blonde's hips to keep from coming straight away.

He fisted the blonde's long, thin cock as he waited, which felt just as hot as his had before he'd sheathed himself. He ran his thumb over the slit and smeared the pre-cum over his head, making Draco jolt and tense in Harry's arms. Then, he was pounding into him, unable to slow his pace under any circumstance. But that was fine, because Draco was thrusting into his hand and slamming back onto Harry's hips, moaning and humming and pleading him to go faster.

Harry ran his hands down Draco's stomach reverently, feeling each and every straining muscle with a giddy joy as he pulled out from Draco and then snapped his hips forward again. He could feel the heat rising low in his stomach, and Draco was whimpering and sagging now, unable to keep up with his disjointed movements. Harry squeezed his cock cruelly when he felt Draco ready to come undone and kept thrusting into him until the blonde was crying for release. The Slytherin took hold of Harry's arse and dug his nails in to yank him further inside.

"Beg for me, Draco. Come on, beg," Harry panted, sweat trailing down his back. His balls tightened, and for a moment, he thought he wouldn't get to hear the sounds of Draco's broken voice keening for his own pressing need. His stomach began to tighten in warning.

"Please, please let me come… I need to come, please let me… Harry, please…"

Harry loosened his hold, and then pumped the blonde once, twice until he was shooting all over Harry's hand and his chest. Harry wasn't far behind, and he buried his face into the crook of Draco's neck as he cried out and emptied himself inside the blonde. Draco's arms looped around his neck and held him close throughout it all.

When the white faded from his eyes, and the screaming had died down into desperate pants, Harry collapsed to the side, falling from Draco, and tugged him close to his chest.


The brunette wrapped an arm around Draco's back and traced his spine. "Hmm?"

"What took you so long?"

Harry grinned and buried his nose in the blonde's hair, before kissing his head. "Sorry, I won't do it again."


This time, when Draco fell asleep, Harry was right beside him holding him too close to escape.

In the morning, when Harry awoke, he found Draco sat beside him, cross legged and looking nervous. He wore a pair of boxers Harry wanted to see thrown on the floor, and a loose t-shirt he suspected was the one he couldn't find and had declared missing two months ago.

"Were you drinking last night?" The blonde finally asked after a tense silence, in which Harry wasn't sure what to expect.


Draco's shoulders lost some of their tension, but he still seemed a little too high-strung for Harry's taste. He had a feeling he knew why, and reached out for the blonde's waist to tug him down beside him.

Harry buried his nose in the fine, blonde hair and inhaled the most wondrous scent. "Did you take a shower?"

Draco nodded and hesitantly reached out to lay a hand on Harry's chest. Harry smiled, reached out and pecked the blonde's neck.

"I don't like one night stands," Harry told him, tightening his hold around Draco's waist so he knew what Harry wanted.

That seemed to be what he was waiting to hear, for Draco melted completely and snuggled up to Harry with a sigh.

"Hufflepuff," he mocked, and Harry wisely didn't bring up the fact that Draco had been waiting for a promise from him.

Instead, Harry slowly began to peel the clothes off Draco until he was flushed and naked beneath him. This time, he didn't fuck him into the mattress. This time, he was gentle and slow, and made sure to kiss every inch of the blonde he could see, all the while Blaise's voice echoed in his head not to be so gentle, and that now he'd gone and done it, he better love the ridiculous blonde.

Harry thought he could manage that.