Title: Secret liaison
Chapter: 7/?
Story rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Story warnings: slash, rimming, slight violence, very slight dub!con
Summary: In 8th year Harry gets into a fight with Draco Malfoy that leads to a relationship neither of them planned.
A/N: I know it has been a LONG time for this update. I am however in the middle of a really long fest fic and a long one shot. I promise this story will not be abandoned and it certainly won't take this long for an update again, but just be aware that I won't get it out weekly all of the time. Sorry. I know, I hate that too. But I still love comments, so shout at me if you must but also... I need a bit of cheerleading.

It was the light shining in his eyes that did it. He hadn't realised he had fallen asleep or just how comfortable he was until he was ripped from his slumber by the orange glow behind his eyelids.

He scrunched them tight, moaning tiredly as he pushed his nose deeper into his pillow, his decidedly hard pillow... which smelled rather nice. Blinking rapidly, fighting the heaviness of the sleep in the corners of his eyes, Harry was greeted with a white button. He lifted his head slowly to get a better view and spotted another button then another. They ran length ways down the cotton.

Harry jumped back when his pillow inhaled. He stared open mouthed at Draco Malfoy who was still quite peacefully asleep by the look of him. His blond fringe was fanned across his forehead, his lips parted ever so and his arm – which previously had been curled around Harry – bent at the elbow so his fingers rested against his own cheek, palm up.

Harry stared at the sleeping boy for a few moments, his heart slowing down as the shock settled in. He'd fallen asleep, nestled up against Draco Malfoy.

Okay, he told himself, worse things have happened. Not that he could think of any at that moment in time, but still he was sure there must be some.

Wetting his dry lips with his tongue Harry shifted on the pile of cushions and tried to slip his way towards his wand. Before he could move a mere inch, Malfoy had his wrist trapped within his fist.

"Going somewhere, Potter?" he asked his voice a little heavier than usual.

Harry swallowed before replying, "It's morning."

Malfoy opened his eyes a little more and lifted his head to peer over at the window, which had a soft early morning light shining through, catching dust particles in the air as they floated and bobbed.

Malfoy peered back at Harry and tugged the held wrist; Harry fell onto his side back on to the cushion, his face only a few inches from Malfoy's.

"Do I not get a morning kiss?" he asked his voice soft but his smile sharp.

"Um," Harry croaked. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to move away but unable to.

Malfoy chuckled under his breath before moving in closer, his lips looming over Harry's. Harry was absolutely mortified and ducked his head down quickly. He could not allow Malfoy to kiss him when he had just woken.

Malfoy's lips landed in Harry's hair. He heard him click his tongue in annoyance but then inhale deeply as though he were breathing in the scent of Harry's hair. Harry blushed a deep red and kept his head lowered until Malfoy cupped his fingers beneath his chin and lifted it so Harry had to meet his eyes.

"Not in the mood, Potter?" Malfoy asked lightly.

Harry could only wince slightly before shaking his head. "It's morning, Malfoy. I've only just woke up." Did his voice always sound so pitiful, he wondered.

"And?" Malfoy asked clearly perplexed.

"And... well..." Harry sighed before realising he had just breathed on Malfoy and quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

Malfoy seemed quick on the up take and his eyes widened. Then, he laughed. He laughed so hard his whole body began to shake.

"Oh Merlin, Potter! Are you worried about morning breath?" he gasped between giggles. "Oh bloody hell you are so adorable."

Harry frowned, his hand still over his mouth. "M'not," he mumbled, the sound garbled.

Malfoy was still chuckling as he picked up his wand which sat just above their heads. He waved it in one smooth motion and Harry felt his teeth tingle with the sudden freshness. Breathing surreptitiously onto his palm, Harry smelled the clean scent of mint.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as Harry slowly lowered his hand. "Are you a Wizard, Potter?"

Harry didn't respond, merely screwing his mouth up in a grudging ascent of his own stupidity. Malfoy smiled again, obviously finding the whole thing rather amusing before pressing his lips in a successful kiss this time.

Harry allowed it as Malfoy's tongue wrapped its way around Harry's, massaging the muscle gently. Malfoy's hands found their way into Harry's hair and he coaxed him back to lie against the cushions, Malfoy on top of him.

The weight of Malfoy above him made Harry part his legs and Draco made a humming noise as he fell through them. The sound vibrated through Harry's lips and he arched upwards into Malfoy's heat.

It only took a couple of seconds of Malfoy grinding back against Harry for Harry to clutch at the back of Draco's wrinkled shirt and come quickly and heavily. His thighs clamping down on Draco's hips, keeping him in place as he rode through his pleasure.

When he slumped back and released his grip, Malfoy pulled back from the kiss, allowing Harry to breath. His head fell down to Harry's neck and he sighed deeply. Harry thought he sounded regretful.

He couldn't blame him really, he had come so quickly again. It must be completely off putting.

When Malfoy began thrusting his hips once again, this time against Harry's thigh rather than his groin, Harry just lay back and tried not to make any noise. He stared up at the ceiling, the blond hair on Draco's head just there in his periphery vision.

It was all rather embarrassing really.

When Malfoy finally tensed, his fingers digging into Harry's sides and his teeth grazing his neck, Harry closed his eyes. Malfoy had lasted longer than Harry would ever be able to.

Malfoy pulled away quickly when he was done. He glanced at Harry before casting his eyes downwards. His cheeks were tinged pink and his lips were pinched.

He stood up and tried to brush out the numerous wrinkles on his shirt. With his back turned Malfoy said, "Next time try moving, Potter."

Harry frowned and sat up, the familiar feeling of stickiness distracting him briefly as he picked up his wand and muttered a cleaning charm.

He blinked up at Malfoy, his back still turned towards Harry. "What?"

Malfoy turned slightly to reveal his profile and muttered, "It's like doing it with a pillow. Honestly," he sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "Just tell me if you aren't interested."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he stood up, his knees still a little wobbly from their previous activities.

"Excuse me? Not interested? I come here don't I? Come without any questions."

Harry saw Malfoy's eyes shift slightly before looking down at the ground.

"Whatever." He turned his back again, his arms folding in front of him. "Just meet me back here tomorrow, same time."

That sounded like a demand. And then Harry remembered who he was dealing with. Selfish, arrogant, brat Draco Malfoy. Tender kisses and gentle hands weren't going to change that and Harry felt defiant.


This time Malfoy turned round fully, his face twisted in a familiar sneer. "Excuse me?"

"No." Harry repeated. "This whole thing has gone on too long. It's wrong."

Malfoy blinked, but didn't say anything.

Harry swallowed and looked back at the cushions that were their makeshift bed.

"Do your friends find it funny?" Harry asked. He didn't even know where that question came from but it was out before he could even think about it.

There was a pause before he heard Malfoy shift like he was stepping backwards.

"My friends?" Malfoy whispered. He spat the last word and Harry frowned. "You really are a total idiot aren't you, Potter?"

Harry turned in time to see Malfoy opening the door and slamming it closed behind him. Then he was alone. The resulting silence was deafening, not at all like the peaceful quiet he had woken in.

He kicked at one of the pillows and sent it sailing across the classroom. He still felt sticky, his cleaning charms were rubbish.