Title: Son, Your Teacher's a Great Lay
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been missing ever since the war. The Golden boy really didn't expect to see him as his son's swimming instructor … and he really didn't expect an aroused reaction whenever the git stretched his long legs to teach James the method of breast-stroke.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling is god. Therefore, she owns everything.
A/N: I had real fun writing this one. Oh and here's a funny story, I got the inspiration when my swimming instructor was stretching out as high as he can for breast-stroke. And man, who ever said swimming would just give you big shoulders and an excuse to call yourself a big ugly water hippo. Ididbutanyway, don't judge me by the title; I couldn't help it. Enjoy you perverts!
"I don't see green skin."
"The swimming trunks don't fit me."
"They're supposed to be tight, James."
"You won't die."
"But I don't want to gooooooo,"
"Hurry up we'll be late."
"MUM!" James groaned, determined to have the red-haired woman have pity on him and maybe … not let him go to swimming lessons?
"James, you're thirteen now, almost fourteen. You have to learn how – stop pulling those trunks, let's go, let's go!" Ginny slapped her hands in annoyance, and then quickly regained her balance, one hand supporting her protruding belly that now held in baby Albus. Snug and comfortable.
"James," Yet another soothing, elegant voice said from behind Ginny. Harry who was now wedded to one Ginevra Weasley placed his comforting hands on his son's small shoulders. James hesitantly looked up, determined not to let the tears fall. "It's a muggle swimming school, it will only take half an hour and right now, we're hidden from the wizard world. There's no need to be ashamed." Harry tried to reason.
Ginny hid a slight smile at his words and crossed her arms over her chest in a motherly fashion. "But dad,"
He continued with a hurt look on his face. "You won a triwizard tournament which included dunking your body down for ages … I don't even know how to swim. I'm thirteen, Dad. Thirteen."
Despite his son's earlier ambition, the green eyed man smiled as he heard reference to one of those stories he told James. "I had the help of Gillyweed, James. And you know it took me ages to swim my way out."
James ducked his head down and curled his lip, glaring at the stone floor. "They'll say I'm a stuck up git who's had a nose stuck up somebody's arse -."
"Language!" Ginny cried out, horrified.
"-for too long, I don't even know how to swim." James finished, looking apologetically at his mother.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure Professor Longbottom or Headmistress McGonagall will not let that happen, Jamesy. Besides, you have Harry Potter as a father, and I'm sure-."
"Harry!" Ginny said at once but couldn't hide that smile as she swatted her husband with the newspaper. Said husband grinned.
Yet James said nothing but gave up a defeated sigh. "Come on," Harry urged his son. "Let's go." Said the raven-haired boy.
James kept his head down in mock irritation as he picked up his bag and stomped out of the house, not even waiting for his chaffier. The boy who lived shook his head, kissed Ginny on the cheek and swept down to carry James' new flippers.
"Have fun!" His wife yelled.
Even though Harry was apparently "perfect" (Harry once snorted at this) in all ways, he couldn't help but inspect the muggle building which held the swimming lessons for his boy. The bricks were firmly aligned and you could almost smell the stench of chlorine regarding the heavy glass doors that entranced the teaching. Harry grimaced. If he wasn't intrepid he would stagger away.
At least it's only 30 minutes.
The receptionist sheepishly smiled at the undoubtedly good-looking man in which Harry returned clueless in all meanings of the word. Turns out, to James' delight, there were a lot of other people at his age that were just starting. The boy who now demanded people refer to him, man who lived considered on leaving James and coming back in half an hour. Honestly, they should do something with this inhumane smell.
The ex-Gryffindor waited in a room that had a perfect view for the pool James was now in, chest deep for him. He was trying to hold in a smile because he knew his dad was watching him – though Harry knew better.
They exchanged a couple of friendly waves and the man took notice of the other parents. They were older than him, and some were even giving him an odd expression. Potter decided to ignore them.
It seemed like ten minutes before the swimming instructor entered the pool. The figure, (a man) had quite the physique – built in the arms and had a great arse. Then Harry frowned, crooking his neck in better view to this strangely familiar man. Silvery – blonde locks dribbled down a rather feminine face and as Harry examined, his body was lean though built. Was that even possible? The blonde man's skin was fair and shimmered under the poor lighting.
With a clipboard in his hand, the man finally turned around, giving his profile to Harry. Honestly, Harry should've worked him out by the face but it was those piercing grey eyes that gave it away. Harry rose up, eyes widening.
What the bloody hell, was Draco bloody Malfoy bloody doing here?
As Harry watched, Draco's mouth was moving as if saying something – ordering something and soon enough the children started to move like cows in the water. Bloody Swimming Lessons. Bloody Malfoy. Bloody sound-proof glass.
The next thirty minutes were just staring and mouth-opening-in-disbelief. Malfoy had been reported missing a couple of months ago. Who would've thought muggle London, teaching muggle kids how to swim?
He finally laid his eyes on his son and his new, exhausted peers. They were finally getting out, nodding furiously with excitement. Harry smiled as he finally spotted his son, getting up to go to the change rooms and soon enough, the reddish-brown headed, seven year old boy disappeared in the changing rooms. Expectedly, he next shot his head up and shook with delight as the man took his move to get out of the room.
With great speed he picked up from all those years off quidditch, he strode out of the room and the blonde seemed to be picking something from what Harry assumed was his locker.
The blonde head rose and unmistakably raised an eyebrow at the curious man. If the git was surprised at seeing Harry Potter – the boy who lived, he didn't show it. At least not physically from what Harry knew. Truth be told, he was getting a little hot-headed at how many people addressed him as the boy-who-lived or the "chosen one" or hell, even Harry Potter. But Malfoy not showing any signs of these? Have some dignity here please, Mary Sue.
"Can I help you?"
A shiver went up Harry's spine at the sound of those words forming – slipping out of those luscious lips – that voice he hadn't heard for almost four years. Yet it sounded different; there wasn't any harshness or sneer or snarl. It was just, emotionless.
Potter honestly didn't know how to reply. Why-the –hell-did-you-go-missing-and -why-the-fuck-are-you-working-at-a-muggle-swimming-centre –teaching-muggle-kids-how-to muggly-swim didn't have that ring to it.
"Malfoy?" He asked rather dumbly.
Harry swore he saw a shock of lightning towards the blonde's eyes. But then, to Harry's surprise, the blonde smiled. That cold, twisted, emotionless, unforgiving smile.
"I'm sorry." He said and again, Harry shivered as if he was a commoner five years ago hearing Voldemort's name again. "I don't know anyone by the name of Malfoy." The cold flat tone remarked.
And Harry's eyes snaked down to apparently-not-Malfoy's tag on his breast pocket. Two words formed; Tom. Felton.
Tom Felton left, walking swiftly towards the doors.
Tom. Felton. It didn't at all resemble the name that held two; Draco Malfoy. It was a possibility that this Tom person really was a muggle and a Draco-look-alike. Then he shook his head and denied it as he remembered those lips. Those gorgeous pink lips. That aristocratic nose and how that painless emotion seeped out of the man's piercing, hypnotizing grey eyes and into Harry's emeralds.
What was the prat playing at?
"Dad," James was at his side, tugging at his woolly sleeve. He smiled at his son who was looking sheepishly exhausted, hair dripping wet and stank with that unforgettable stench of chlorine. "Can we go now? It's freezing," And as if to prove his point, James shivered noticeably.
Harry grinned and placed a quidditch-callused hand on the small of his son's back, leading him the way. "Going. Did you have fun?"
"Yeah it was fun! Dad, dad did you see me jump in? The instructor was totally awesome and we learnt how to hold our breath and crud it was amazing – ow- oh and Molly can actually dive in – she actually looks a bit like grandma Molly and we also got taught how to –."
Harry nodded in the right places he hoped. Because his mind kept focusing onto that blonde who seemed eager to leave.
"I thought no one knew where we were? Right dad?" James said from the kitchen. They had rented a small peasant house near the coasts. One that consists of what you needed and nothing more. The Potter family was getting quite sick of fame they did not ask for.
Ginny had her face pinched into a scowl that Harry corrected – she didn't need all stress when she was holding baby Albus. That was the whole point of this really. Harry didn't like seeing his beautiful wife's soft yet firm face so tired all the time. "That's what we thought. And that was why I was so shocked when head auror Thurlwell floo'ed me this morning!" She said frustratingly.
Her husband patted her on the back soothingly. "Don't beat yourself up, Gin. He can track anyone at any time. Believe me."
Ginny snorted, her fingers rubbing at her fore-head wearily. "Sometimes, I think the war did us more bad than good," She chortled wearily.
"Don't ever say that," Harry learned to soothe and correct her at many times. He had learnt regardless that Ginny was confident, noble, loyal and brave – she wasn't too keen on calling herself independent.
Harry tucked James into bed, thrilled that he was learning so quickly; the swimming centre. After telling him the story of how the golden trio tricked Crabbe and Goyle into eating those cupcakes and poly-juiced themselves to trick Malfoy (though Harry quickly summarized in order for his son not to get influenced in trying to charm any cup cakes. Or knock out anybody. Or use polyjuice.) James could barely open his eyes without grimacing.
Harry leaned down, whispered an affectionate 'good night' and kissed his son's forehead. The ex-gryffindor was about to turn off the lights when:
"Dad? Where is that … whad'yucall'em …?"
"Mmm…where is 'dat Malfoy?" His son said wearily.
Harry stared at his son a couple of moments, deciding whether to tell him or not. "I don't know Jamesy … I don't know."
Because that's what his family needed right? They were already dealing with the unasked fame that Harry cursed into their lives. He thought of Ginny; beautiful, delicate and hard-working. And couldn't seem to imagine her dealing with the stress that resulted from Malfoy coming back.
She needed Harry. James needed Harry. Never in a million years would he abandon them …
"Go to sleep," The man with the scar chided softly. The lights went off.
And he tried to do so with his thoughts. But he couldn't help the dozens of memories with the boy before the war rolling in. And a chest ache formed deeply into him as if stabbed by a foreign spear.
"I'm telling you Blaise! I. Ruddy. Saw. Him." The blonde man punctuated every word with annoyance through his gritted teeth.
"Are you serious? I mean it can't be him; he's supposed to be running away from all the fame, Skeeter's wrath, fame and Skeeter's wrath,"
Draco grimaced at the disadvantage of using a muggle phone. He couldn't spit at Blaise using this stupid muggle rubbish.
"What's a better place to do it than muggle London?"
Draco could hear an annoying chortle over the phone. "Now I get it when Professor Snape said you and he think alike."
"We think nothing alike!" Draco reasoned exasperatedly.
Blaise snorted. "Right. Anyway. Parkinson's off to marry Nott in a couple. You'd be there won't you? Pansy would kill you."
"Like I'm ever going to tell her where I am." Draco said, rolling his eyes.
There was an uncomfortable silence that met after Blaise's statement.
"Blaise," Draco said somewhat helplessly. "He's going to be coming here every Saturday for thirty minutes because his son doesn't know how to swim." Typical for a Potter.
Blaise winced in sympathy. "Ayeash." He said. "Out of all the jobs in the whole of the muggle London you had to be a swimming instructor."
Blaise knew their history and Malfoy felt relieved that they revealed themselves to him those years ago. "I told you Zabini. The owner kindly let me in and put use to my knowledge. Then I was beginning to think that when father forced my whole head down the pool and made it stay there for literally an hour, he was actually doing me good and not plotting to kill me."
"Maybe you can just … sink away or retreat whenever he comes up to you. Like Skeeter does whenever she sees Celestina Warbeck!" Blaise choked on a laugh, recalling the series in the daily prophet involving those two earlier that year. Draco had gotten used to how funny Blaise's and anyone else's voice was through the muggle creation.
The ex-slytherin rolled his eyes in what would have been an appropriate gesture if he wasn't grinning uncontrollably. Who wouldn't love seeing Skeeter tortured in public?
"Rita Skeeter's a stupid woman. She does stupid things. I'd look stupid repeating her actions."
"How do you think I look talking into this undeveloped muggle blasphemy just to communicate with you?" Blaise said harshly. "Hold on a sec-OI! WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? KEEP WALKING!" He roared at what Draco guessed was an oncoming passer. "Sorry. Bloody teenagers."
"I'll figure you'd look dashing."
"You're just trying to sugar things up so I won't shut down completely on you."
"Too right." Draco grinned. "But I know you won't anyway."
Blaise hung up the phone. The Malfoy boy made a face and redialed him.
"Fuck you. Now father Weasel thinks I have an interest in muggles." Blaise's odd voice spoke out.
"Your fault for hanging up on me."
Blaise snorted. "Now you're even using muggle sayings? Are you clinging onto them as tight as those hartzy jeans hug your arse?"
"Hardy har har."
"I'd think so. So anyway, does Potter really look as fit as he does up close now like in those new magazines that got published?"
If Draco had a gulp of fine water in his mouth, he would've spat it out.
He couldn't see Blaise but he knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers wearily. "Come on." He groaned. "You can't seriously contradict that Potters the wizarding equivalent of a walking wet dream."
"You are so gay."
"And so are you, my friend."
Then another awkward silence. "He looks amazing." Draco said quickly and checking around his apartment to see if any Rita Skeeter holes and note pad appeared suddenly.
"I knew it." Blaise said. "Did you get a hold of his package?"
"I meant with your eyes, dumbass!"
"No! I didn't look – who the hell would look?"
"Who the hell 'wouldn't' look?"
"I'm done talking to you."
"Aww okay." Blaise pouted. "Bye Tom!" He sniggered – knowing it could be heard by the other end of the phone and hung up once again.
Draco pressed his back against the firm white wall. He really hated this muggle name.
But it was the least he could do to keep Harry away.
:::Four Years ago.:::
A slow, lusty purr filled the pregnant silence the room was giving away. Draco clamped his mouth shut in horror as Harry's eyes expanded with lust and a smirk marred his handsome face.
"You need to be quiet, Dray. How do you think daddy would feel when he sees you bent over his own desk like my personal bitch?" Harry somehow managed to whisper with his tongue slathering Draco's sweaty neck.
Regardless, another moan was almost let out but Draco swallowed it. The room was quiet if not for Harry's steady breaths … Draco's ragged breaths … and the sink that either one forgot to turn off; water droplets seeping out and landing on the bottom with a soft 'plink' every five seconds.
The blonde let out a few more dramatic breaths before grinding his lower back into Harry's erection. It quickly earned him a steady hand on his back; a firm grip stayed him flat on the table and he found himself unable to move.
"We have time …" Harry whispered into his ear. "Why don't we embrace it for once?"
Draco struggled to shake his head furiously. Oh if…if father ever found out…
He really didn't want him to find out when he was bent over his study desk in his office, his probably important sheets in a big pile of mess on the floor or splattered all over the table. Harry standing behind him, his strong hands holding Draco down by the shoulder blades and his erection grinding into the crack of his bare arse. Oh and not to mention, his precum threatening to soil his father's paper-work while Harry's large hand was on the base of his member.
Harry waited for another deep inhalation before palming his way up and pulling the fore-skin of Draco's member down allowing the breathy moans to come out – then only tapping the tip with his other finger. If it wasn't for Harry's strong hold, Draco was sure he would have jumped. Then Draco dismissed the thought because Harry chuckled softly as if he 'had' jumped.
"Harry please … come on, fuck me already," He whispered ferociously. For a long time, there was silence (despite the noticeable drops of water leaking from the tap) and Harry complied; thrusting in when he least expected it.
Draco gasped a bit more than 'audibly' and they both froze, Harry inches deep inside of him when they heard the clanking of heels echoing from the main entrance that was 'meters' away from them. Mother! Draco thought in horror.
The sound of something getting squashed informed Draco his mother decided to sit down on the Malfoy crested couch and did what she always did; read a book.
Harry allowed more silence to fill the room. "Potter," Draco breathed out. "I really think we should-." The boy got cut off as Harry equipped a long hard thrust into him, just inches off his gland.
Draco howled. He knew this was a sin; being fuck-buddies with the enemy. But like Eve, the temptation disorientated his head. And God - let him be damned. Him and Harry.
Every little pleasant fuck during the war, Harry remembered like it was only just yesterday. Every little detail. Everything.
Was Draco trying to avoid him? Four years ago, their interaction (besides the fucking) was just as low as now. It's not like Draco loved him or something. But one surely just can't forget everything that happened!
And that was why Harry decided to follow him. He waited one whole week and he was already about to explode. It was Saturday again. He and his son knew what that meant.
"Have fun!" Ginny called out, laughing to see how eager his son was.
. . .
There he was again. Ruddy Malfoy. Bloody Malfoy – what was he playing at, changing his name – not acknowledging him thank you very much –
Harry was about to snap any moment. He felt as if a ferret was biting his toe repeatedly until he decided to scream, kick the ferret away and demand for the actual ferret to tell him what the hell happened to him.
Snarky-arsed albino git – can't even gather his dignity to at least say oh hello, fucking teaching my son – fucking telling him what to do. God, is this what he always wanted? Ordering defenseless muggles around and them can't do one thing except complying? Poncy fairy twonk knows I'm watching him when he's showing how to bloody swim –
Harry's breath hitched. He saw a dozen of children lifting as high as they can from the waist deep water. And Malfoy stretching as high as he can.
Oh Gods … his logo, black t-shirt (which looked bloody amazing on him) happened to slide up a few inches as his arms spread up, revealing a new bit of white skin. His peach colored shorts for all swimming employees hugged his firm arse …
Then Malfoy stopped stretching and laughed at his students. What just happened? His mind was still busy working things out as he noticed James raise his hand.
Silent words spilled from James' mouth and Draco nodded, replying back. What the hell were they saying? And suddenly, the blonde man secured his hands on a bar next to him gripping tightly and lifted a leg, straightening out.
The prat! He knew he had great legs! Harry bit his inner cheeks so hard he felt pain inside his mouth. The green eyed man squirmed uncomfortably on his seat. Fuck, this wasn't fair! Not with Draco displaying (here he was exaggerating a tiny bit) SEX POSITIONS in front of HIM and TWELVE YEAR OLD KIDS and his motions were innocently appropriate with not the tiniest hint of 'I'm sexy, go fuck me' intentions!
Bloody hell his insides were screaming! What was happening to him? He hasn't felt this way in … four years …
Harry felt his libido pressing into his pants with more pressure than neutral. Well it wasn't the first time Malfoy got him hard. Merlin be damned.
He then sucked in a harsh breath as Draco repeated the same exercises; his firm arse bobbing and weaving. Let Harry die in Dudley's room with the words 'I get hard by swimming instructors' carved on his back by thinking this was exactly like showing a five-year old boy candy then eating it in front of his face.
It was something about that little white strip of skin that revealed itself that made Harry want to stagger over there and rip his whole shirt off. As well as his pants. Arm bands can stay.
Then Draco moved to his right, reaching up with his hands. Harry fiddled with his own sweaty fingers. God damn … he whispered.
. . .
'Tom Felton' sighed exasperatedly.
"I don't know who you're talking about." Draco said the same time as the person he dreaded to see said "I don't know what you're playing at."
Silence played cold and deadly. Whatever. Harry can deal with silence … he was an auror; silence is their plus one move. For what seemed like ages, they stared at each other blankly.
Harry saw Draco waver and grinned.
"What do you want?" Draco – yes Draco – said wearily.
The man wanted to scream out 'I KNEW IT'. Though, he couldn't get it out. Malfoy almost snickered to see that all too familiar dumbstruck look on his old rival and fuck buddy's face.
"W-why?" Harry said obviously clueless.
"Why what?" Draco repeated.
"Why are you here?" Harry said through his teeth, a determined expression marred on his face just for Draco.
"Why can't I be here?" He raised an eyebrow. Harry cursed. It was the same eyebrow that rose the last time he said 'I can't stay for the night.' Four years ago.
"U-um – I don't -." Harry stammered embarrassingly, a faint blush spreading through his handsome face.
"Stammering like a child like always, I see." Draco glared. He had no reason to be angry but he was for some reason Draco couldn't quite put his finger on.
Harry glared competitively back. "There's nothing wrong with acting like a child despite my age."
"Is that why you threw me away?" Draco said through clenched teeth. Harry froze. "Like a used toy that got replaced by the newer, better – improved version?"
"Draco!" Harry flustered. "I'd never - ."
"You'd never." Draco actually sneered, hinting a trace of old memories. "But you did, didn't you?"
"I love Ginny." Harry said sternly.
"Then we have nothing to say to each other." Replied Draco darkly. Despite his emotion currently displayed, he felt a bulging, wet sensation at the back of his eyes.
"Yes we do." Harry said just as serious. "What happened to you? Why are you here?"
"Why can't I be here?"
"Don't give me that shit!" Harry yelled out and he found his hands clenching tightly.
Draco chortled harshly. "Why, Golden boy?" he smiled dangerously. "Because I'm banished from the wizarding world. That's why."
Harry gaped, horrified. "Why?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "You're limping."
"You're limping." He eyed Harry's cloth-covered leg. Harry followed his gaze and blushed.
This had to be the most awkward conversation the two had so far. "Not your business." Harry said defensively.
"Sit down." He ordered. Harry frowned at the command, desperate to question but afraid that would annoy him more. So hesitantly, he sat down on the floor. Draco almost grinned.
"Where is it?"
Harry nodded somewhat sheepishly and almost leapt out of his position when Draco bent his knees to his level and pulled out the raven – haired man's leg out by the calf.
"Draco, what are you –."
"Shh." He said sharply and pulled Harry's trouser leg up. He began to caress his calf, gradually pressing harder and before Harry realized, he was massaging Potter's paining calf.
Harry exhaled. "Um-Draco,"
"Relax, Potter." The man soothed, grinning when he began to rub circles over one particular spot that made Harry almost smile in relief. "I work with kids that swim thirty minutes a day. I know what to do."
Harry jumped when he made his way higher. "I – can see that." He said breathily. Draco smirked. For a while, it was the same caressing and massaging. Harry finally managed to smile.
During some point, Draco moved onto the next leg and made his way up. The hairs behind Harry's neck started to stick up as his breathing quickened up. Draco was massaging his thighs now: and Harry knew that he knew that nothing ached there. Besides the thing between his –
Harry cried out when Draco pressed down on his trouser-covered crotch.
"Seems like you have a problem here Potter." He practically purred. Harry said nothing; Draco slowly started to massage the bulge in his pants, the same technique he used but somewhat gentler.
Harry let out a few shaky breaths. "O-oh, Draco …"
"You missed this." Draco stated; wasn't an offer … was a statement. The next thing Harry knew, the sneaky blonde slid his hands inside his shirt and pressed those lips Harry ached to touch against his own.
Harry made a sound in between the kiss that elicited a moan and he returned eagerly, both fighting for dominance. The ex-gryffindor placed his large hand on the back of Draco's neck and pushed him even closer so their noses crashed into each other. They didn't care.
The slightly bigger man (who was also known as the Golden boy) finally regained his position, moving his way up to grab his partner's crotch through those damned shorts and started squeezing rhythmically
Draco gasped and Harry took his opportunity to thrust his tongue into Draco's warm mouth. There they both moaned; Harry mapped out every inch of Malfoy's mouth. He missed that familiar yet foreign taste. Like a sun that only shines darkness. Like a question answered with a question. There were a million things running through Harry's head right now. None of them resembled or acknowledged he had a wife and a child.
Draco pulled away regretfully, both caught their breaths. "We have thirty minutes." He said and Harry grinned to see him so flustered.
"Won't anyone see us?"
"That's the thrill of it." Draco breathed back, recalling the exact same words from one time they did it in front of Severus Snape's closed office.
They engaged another lustful, eager kiss and their clothes were off due to Draco's clever fingers. "Harry …" Draco had said. "Fuck me,"
Harry moaned at these lungful words and didn't have the heart (or the time) to refuse to comply. He pressed the now standing figure into a wall and Draco wrapped his own leg around Harry's waist, allowing access to his opening. Another hand on Harry's neck made him aware of the fact that he was ready.
He quickly moistened his own finger with his saliva and brought it down to sink into Draco's entrance. The blonde was too far gone to feel any pain and tried to bore down on that seeking finger. Harry's breathing hitched; his partner's inner walls decided to clamp down on his fingers as if to suffocate it.
"Draco … tight," Harry gasped and started finger-fucking him.
Draco moaned, hitting his head on the wall as he arched back in ecstasy. "Missed this," He hissed.
Harry was up to three fingers now, holding Malfoy's thigh up with one hand and watching with pure lust and fascination as his fingers stretched the tight pucker. He arched his fingers up, searching for-
"Fuck!" Malfoy screeched and attempted to push down on those wonderful fingers. "Again," He panted.
But Harry shook his head, pulling his fingers out and Malfoy refused to say anything as the boy aligned his rock hard cock to Malfoy's fantastically stretched hole.
Then he saw Malfoy's desperate face; eyes closed in concentration and those beautiful lips getting bitten by his teeth. Harry leant over and claimed his mouth in a careful kiss as he pushed inside Malfoy.
Draco moaned into his mouth and his arms seemed to move by themselves, one wrapped around Harry's shoulder to clutch at his messy hair and the other to cup Harry's arse cheek, pulling him closer.
Harry thrust forward and began fucking him in earnest. Draco tried his best to sway with the rhythm, with his leg held up almost punishingly and his back like fire against the cool wall. When he felt his captor scrape his mouth over his neck and bit none too gently, he choked on a dry sob.
Harry grunted, changing his angle when he felt near, Draco threw his head back, gave a full-throated wordless groan, and fought to force Harry's libido deeper within him.
"F-faster," Draco choked out with great difficulty and groaned as Harry began to thrust, hard and rough and at a punishing pace. "W-wait!" Draco gasped and Harry gained all of his strength to stop in confusion. Though he could hardly believe that he still had the decency to respond to actual words.
Draco tore away from him and dropped onto the floor, the cool, hard floor already beginning to create an ache in his own knees but that's exactly what he wanted. He looked at Harry over his shoulder. "Please," He whimpered.
Harry quickly climbed atop him. He fucked his ex-fuck –buddy as hard as he could, snapping his hips forward and clutching at parts of Draco's skin possessively the entire time. Both of them howled at the new proposal; Harry seemed to go deeper into him.
With the new position, Harry quickly found Draco's sweet spot due to his incoherent yowls that made Harry's head spin. "Harry!" Draco yelled, warning him he was close. Harry was too and thought for a second that he would faint by the force of his future orgasm. He clamped a hand over Draco's aching cock and wanked him in time with the thrusts.
The ex-slytherin choked on a scream as he came, quivering and dotting his chest and coating Harry's hand. Harry came shortly after, gasping and didn't stop thrusting into him until he was totally emptied.
He held Draco by the chest and waist, like he owned the boy. The beautiful, pale, blonde boy.
And his thoughts drifted to Ginny and James.
They didn't need to know.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! It's my first ever long lemon and I thought this would bore some of you xD.