Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, they're JKR's. If they were mine, more things like this would happen. No copyright infringement is intended, I'm only writing this for fun, not monetary gain. All characters are meant to be of age.
Rated M mostly for language and a bit of slash.

Summary: Draco wakes up in a bed that isn't his own, in the arms of a strangely familiar dark haired man… (EWE)

A/N: Well, this is my first fic. It started out as a dream, and I decided I should try and make something out of it. Don't be harsh, but review honestly, I'd really love to get feedback.

I might write a prequel for this, of the night before, or a sequel, of the subsequent events, If I get positive reviews!

Draco's eyes snapped open. Straightening up a bit and squinting in a room filled with sunlight, he realized he was lying in a bed that wasn't his own. Deciding he probably went home with someone after drinking himself halfway into a coma the night before, he settled back onto a soft pillow. When someone nuzzled into his neck and held him tighter and closer, he suddenly felt the heat that surrounded him. He was locked in a loving embrace with a dark haired man.

With a heavy heart he disentangled from the man, and got out of bed, the loss of heat and softness around him noticeable. A hastily cast Tempus charm revealed that he was once again late for work after a night of drinking. With a blooming headache beginning somewhere behind his right eye, he decided to call in sick, shake off the hangover and come back tomorrow feeling better.

Who was that man in bed with him? The dark, messy locks looked familiar, but the man's face was covered with a brightly colored summer quilt, and Draco couldn't see his features properly to successfully indentify him.

He sat on the bed gingerly, debating whether or not he should move the quilt and find out with whom he had spent the night, considering he was only wearing his dark green briefs, and his hair was all mussed up. He didn't want to wake the man, whose breathing was slow and even. But his curiosity was starting to get the best of him. He had never done such a thing. He'd never gone home with a man, at least not when he was so drunk. Usually he'd apparate home, even in his drunken state. If he got splinched, it was a lesson – don't ever get that pissed. But then again, the amount of times he went to work with a missing eyebrow or fingernail were substantial. He really needed to take control of his drinking, or at least learn how to hold his liquor.

Taking his mind back to the man that lay on the bed, he looked at him and noticed his body was scarcely covered by the quilt. He was pretty toned, and most of his form peeped through, as if sharing his bed with Draco was a bit too hot for him, and the covers intensified the heat, but he still couldn't sleep without some coverage, even with Draco's body plastered to him.
Draco snorted at the thought.

The man stirred in his sleep. Shit.

The last thing Draco wanted was to wake the man, without even learning who he was! Did he really drink that much last night? So much that he couldn't remember the man who held him the whole night?

Draco kept on contemplating the fact that he was acting more and more like a slut each time he got drunk. From time to time he'd snort a laugh or torture himself with mean words he threw in the air at himself. He was not the type to just sleep with someone like that. One-offs weren't really his thing. He had wanted a relationship. Ever since his realization he actually found blokes attractive, he felt as if his life would be much better if he had a loved one to share it with. The fact that that person will be male didn't deter him in the slightest… He believed people would accept it. After the war things have changed drastically in the wizarding community. Pure-bloods didn't have the upper hand any more, at least not like they did before, and homosexuality was becoming something people could handle, giving the things that had happened in the war, it was a piece of cake.

The sudden thought about the war made him feel ashamed of himself. His part in the war was negligible, but his loyalty, however false and motivated by fear and concern for his and his parents' life, was with the wrong side. Voldemort's ideas of blood-purity never meant anything to him.

True, he had been nasty to muggle-borns in Hogwarts, but only because his crew of underlings and so-called friends would've thought badly of him if he wasn't, and at the time, appearances meant the world to him. His opinion on the matter has changed over the years, and he had wished he could repent but never got himself to it. Feeling like a coward, he stood up and began pacing the room.

The onslaught of thoughts of the war and his misguided childhood flooded him and tears welled in his eyes. What is the matter with me?
Draco Malfoy was not the type to tear up. Not anymore. He was no longer a boy in his late teens, forced to do horrible things and left alone to deal with the toll they took. He left that part of his life in a box and only returned to peruse it in his moments of regret, that seldom came through his mask of confidence and power, which seemed to convince everyone but himself that he had grown up and recovered.

"Would you stop pacing and come back to bed?" uttered a voice from the bed.
It was hoarse and sounded tired, but also warm and inviting, and somehow, familiar…

With a sharp intake of air, an image of a black haired, skinny boy wearing oversized muggle clothing and round, ugly spectacles swiveled in his head for a moment.

Potter. He woke up in bed with Potter. He was pacing in Potter's bedroom. Saint Potter.

His jaw dropped and his mouth formed a perfect, comical O. He stood there gaping for a moment, mortified, when the black haired figure rose from the bed, sitting up, exposing a shirtless Harry Potter, devoid of spectacles.

"Are you coming or not?" potter said in a drowsy tone and rubbed his eyes.

"P..P..Potter?" Draco said, refusing to believe it until it was absolutely confirmed. Suddenly he began remembering the night before. Flashes of a muggle bar, weird colorful drinks and loud music came to his mind.

"I wasn't Potter last night, Draco," the man said huskily, "Don't you remember screaming my name?"

With a squeal, Draco clamped his hand to his mouth in utter disbelief. He had spent the night with Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Was-Chosen or some other crap. What was the matter with him? How many drinks did he have?

A rustle from the bed had informed him that Potter was getting up. Draco turned in trepidation, and saw he was wearing grey pants and nothing else. Draco's mouth went suddenly very dry. Potter was breathtaking.
His chest was slightly furred, but tanned and shaped, his abdomen was smooth and perfect, and there was a trail of black hairs from his navel down to his pants… Draco wanted to walk over to him and follow it with his tongue. Realizing the dangerous path of his thoughts, Draco snapped himself out of the haze of sudden lust that filled him and looked anywhere in the room but in Potter's direction.


"Yes, Potter?" Draco answered in a waspish tone. The fact that Potter was unfairly fit shouldn't mean anything, really, seeing as he did not have any intention to carry this on. A one-off it is. He and Potter would never work, and he was not the type to just have meaningless sex with someone… Though some of that 'meaningless' sex was starting to come back to him, and he felt dizzy for a moment, a hardness becoming more pronounced down in his briefs.

"Are you alright?" Potter asked. He sounded almost… Concerned. A warm feeling spread through Draco, having nothing to do with the room's temperature.

"I'm fine. It's just… Well… What the hell, Potter?" Draco answered, and immediately regretted speaking at all. Potter's face was suddenly sad with the realization Draco didn't remember their night.

"What do you mean 'what the hell?' " Potter asked in a very high pitched voice, that startled Draco. "Don't you remember…?" Sitting back down on the bed, Potter put his head in his hands and groaned.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Potter said in a devastatingly hurt voice. Draco wanted to go and hold him, but quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He wanted a relationship, and a night with Harry Potter was definitely not going to become that. He refused to waste his time.

"Were you that drunk?" he said, sounding suddenly harsh.

"Erm –" Malfoy started, but Potter cut in.

"It only figures. You were too nice. And you came home with me. How could I be so stupid?" Potter seemed to be talking to himself, disregarding Draco completely, ranting silently.

"Of course. Why on earth would Draco Malfoy be in my bed the morning after? Pissed. Why would he bottom? Pissed."

Suddenly Draco became very aware of a tingling sensation in an area that really shouldn't tingle… Did he let Potter fuck him? The world looked like it was coming to an end.

"Bottom…?" He said quietly, not meaning to get a reply.

"Yes bottom. Seriously Malfoy, can't you feel anything? Your arse should really hurt."

Draco absently noted the use of his last name, feeling a bit disappointed, surprising himself. "You said it wouldn't hurt that much last night..."

He turned to see a gaping Harry Potter staring at him.

"So you do remember?"

"Only bits of it. I remember a muggle bar and lots of colorful drinks. Mind you, they're worse to handle than Firewhisky... I remember chatting with you at the bar, I remember leaving. I don't quite remember the sex…" The last part sounded quite bitter. Harry laughed.

"Oh, do you regret not remembering our night?" he said with a bark of laughter with a voice that dripped sarcasm.

"Do you wish you could? I mean, you did bottom. Is that beneath you? Considering you are a flaming ponce." Harry spat.

"Malfoys don't bottom!" Draco spluttered, and flushed.

"Oh, but you did. And you liked it. You screamed my name when you came. I never even touched your dick." Potter said, scowling, and setting Draco's world back to rights, piercing him with a glare from the bed. There it is; the face he saw constantly for seven years of his life. A smile crept over his face before he realized.

"What are you smiling about?" Potter demanded.

"It's just… You're glaring at me."

"Well yeah, I tend to do that when I'm mad! For fuck's sake Draco. How could you do this?" He sounded hurt again, and Draco instinctively inched towards him. Seeing as Harry went back to using his given name, Draco figured it was safe enough.

Putting a hand on Harry's shoulders tentatively –and when had he become Harry? - He said "How could I do what?"

Harry looked up at him with an unfathomable look on his face. Draco couldn't really recognize the feelings that hid there. He looked at the green eyes for some time, and then Harry looked down, slumping.

"After all these years I finally get to have you, and you can't remember it." He said softly, his voice cracking a bit.

"Finally?" Draco asked, confused.

"Seriously, didn't you realize? All that time at Hogwarts?"

Draco gasped and looked at Harry, perplexed.

"You mean…"

"I mean, I have been falling for you since fourth year, steadily, and you never did as much as look at me without a scowl. And then the war… And school ended after that, and I never got around to telling you, and I haven't seen you in years… and suddenly you show up at my favorite bar. I took my chance."

"Falling for me?" Draco asked, his voice barely audible. His breath was shallow and his hand trembled over Harry's back.

"Yes. Falling for you." Harry answered, inching closer to Draco. "I've fallen. Hard."

It was all Draco could do not to pounce on him. He gently inclined his head towards Harry, moving slowly as if Harry might move back, and finally touched their lips.

Harry sighed silently and put his arms around Draco's waist, bringing him closer. Draco moved his hands to rest on Harry's shoulders, and touched his hair, realizing he's been craving to do just that, possibly for years…

He felt harry nudge his lips with his tongue, and opened his mouth, allowing access. Harry began to kiss him in earnest, swiping his tongue everywhere in Draco's mouth he could reach, sending tremors of pleasure and arousal coursing though Draco's body. He never realized there were places in is his mouth connected straight to his cock.

His hands began roaming over Harry's body, touching him only slightly, like he was something precious. Harry moaned into his mouth and Draco began moving more deliberately, intending to draw more of those beautiful sounds out of his lover.

Lover. The word sounded so natural in Draco's mind. The kiss went on and on and deepened with every touch, until the need to breathe was too strong and they broke apart, gasping for air, holding each other tightly.

"D…Draco?" Harry said, when he resumed normal breathing, still holding the other man close firmly in his hands.

"Yes Harry?" Draco answered, slightly amused at how Harry sounded so unsure, even after the heated kissing and groping that just occurred.

"I love you." Harry said breathlessly. It seemed as if he was holding it in for so long.

"I love you too, Harry." Draco said. He hadn't known until he heard it from the other man, but he was certain. He loved Harry With all of his heart… Possibly for a long time now. He never felt love towards anyone else. He wanted Harry, He wanted it to work. He wanted a relationship.

"You called me Harry." Harry laughed and held Draco closer.

"Of course I called you Harry. If this is going to work…" He started, but stopped at the look in Harry's eyes. He looked dumbfounded.

"This being…?" He said, with sparks in his eyes.

"Look… I don't know what this is. But I love you. I think I have for a long time; I just never had the courage to admit it to myself. That was always your department, being the Gryffindor that you are…" Draco started, with a light chuckle.

"But I want a relationship. I want flowers, and chocolates, and late morning in bed, and having sex on the kitchen counter because we can't control ourselves enough to get to bed." Draco felt himself blushing, but he didn't mind. He had Harry in his arms. What could possibly go wrong?

"You want all of that… With me?" Harry asked incredulously, eyes widening with disbelief.

Draco's passionate kiss was answer enough.

~I might write more, so for now TBC~