scarlet_malfoy

Saturday September 18th, 1999 - early morning

Harry had been wrong.

He'd tossed and turned for hours that night, unable to get the picture of Malfoy out of his head; hurt, bleeding and utterly debauched. Whereas once he might have gloated seeing his arch-nemesis in such a state, he now only felt upset on his behalf, and even a little bit guilty. They'd both noticed something strange about that stall door in the bathroom that day, but neither of them had paid it any heed. If only Harry had thought to run some diagnostics on the door the second he'd sensed something was off ...

But Malfoy was all right. He'd heard it from the Healer, and he'd heard it from Professor Stark. And yet, he couldn't sleep.

He was awake at one o'clock in the morning when a thunderstorm began, starting off as a light pattering of rain against his bedroom window. Slowly the lightning and thunder increased in frequency and volume, until he crawled out of bed to stare out the window at the wind violently whipping the trees around outside his flat, as if they were mere play things. He resolved that the chance of sleeping was now out of the question.

At two-thirty, he found himself sitting on his living room couch, making a weak attempt at reading the homework. The crescendoing thunder made him jump, and he kept losing focus. Swearing, he slammed the book shut and threw it to the floor.

He leaned his head all the way back, and was rubbing at his eyes despairingly when there was a hard knock at the door. His nerves were already high strung, and at the unexpected sound, Harry launched out of his seat.

Gripping his wand firmly inside his sleeve, he made his way cautiously towards the door, and opened it a crack - in equal fear of the wind and rain as to whom might be knocking at this time of night.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. It was Malfoy, shivering and drenched to the bone, eyes wide like a lost child. Harry noticed the shirt he wore wasn't his usual black: it was a shade of off-white, and was clinging to him like a second skin.

"What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, get in, will you?" Harry demanded, unsure of why he sounded so harsh. It could have been that the man had been critically injured earlier that day, and that he definitely should be resting, and not knocking on his door in the middle of the night. Harry opened the door wide, trying to hide behind it, half in attempt to make room and half to avoid getting wet, but Malfoy just stood there. He gripped the frame on either side of him, and he stood in stark contrast to the terrifying storm, pale skin aglow in the light of the single lamp Harry had in the back corner of the living room.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, opening the door wider. The howl of the wind was deafening, and the rain icy cold; it was coming through the crack at the hinge, despite all Harry's efforts.

"No, you need to listen to me!" Malfoy urged, a look in his eye that made the retort die on Harry’s tongue. He was cold and getting wet, and he wasn't happy, but he was intrigued, and so he sidestepped around the door. Malfoy’s body at least blocked most of the rain from hitting him square in the face.

Every single one of Malfoy's muscles was outlined through his shirt. His trousers must have been weighed down with water, because they were nearly falling off the slim hips. Harry blinked, forcing his gaze back up to Malfoy's face.

"I'm sorry, Potter. I should never have said it!" Malfoy's knuckles were white as they tightly gripped the doorframe.

Harry shook his head, nearly screaming to be heard over the wind's roar. "What?"

A hand went to Malfoy's forehead dramatically. "Merlin, don't tell me you've forgotten about the duel already!"

In fact, Harry had very nearly forgotten. After the bathroom incident, it had slipped from the forefront of his mind. All those horrible things they had said to one another - but he could barely muster up the energy to be angry about it anymore, now that he'd been reminded. Professor Stark had said to get angry, and Harry and Malfoy both had definitely followed through on that direction. What more could he have really expected? Harry had just let it all get to him; he should have realised that Malfoy had only been listening.

Harry took a tentative step forward. "Malfoy, it's fine! Forget it, okay?"

"No, you don't understand! I never meant to insult Dumbledore, okay? I wanted to get at you, and hurt you, because you had hurt me, and it was the only thing I could think of!" Malfoy wouldn't look him in the eye, and it was driving Harry crazy.

"What did I say?" Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember all the things he had said. He wished that Malfoy would just come inside so they wouldn't have to shout at each other over the noise of the storm.

"The picture! You wanted to know who I was being cosy with in the picture at my flat, and I just ... I wasn't sure ... I thought you were trying to offend me, and I see now that you're just a duffer who doesn't know what he's talking about!"

"What?"

Malfoy managed a dry smirk. "Precisely." And then he paused, tilting his head. He sighed, looking resigned. "All right, Potter. That picture? It was of me and Ethan Mueller. He went to Beauxbatons, and he was a Half-blood. And he -- he was my boyfriend. Voldemort had him killed, because of me."

"Oh, Jesus." Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach, and his hand fell to the door handle and gripped it in shock. "I'm so sorry I said anything, Malfoy ..."

"No, it's fine! Shut up, will you? I'm the one apologising here!" Malfoy had shifted, leaning onto the side of the doorway kiddie-corner to where Harry stood gripping the door handle for dear life, and he was breathing heavily. It occurred to Harry once more that Malfoy really shouldn't be standing out in the wet, cold night. He'd almost died earlier, Harry couldn't even imagine how he'd been let out of St Mungo's at all, but he knew that he needed to get Malfoy inside, and into some dry clothes ...

But Harry could only stare at him, insides frozen. Malfoy had just confessed something grand; he had truly opened up, in a way that Harry could scarcely contemplate. Of course, now he felt like the world's biggest arse, but he supposed they had both said things that they now regretted. Harry could forget about it. And he could forgive. In fact, he already had.

Malfoy was shivering, and he looked so goddamn sad. Something broke inside Harry then, something he hadn't even realised had been about to break until it had, and he grabbed Malfoy by the front of his shirt and pulled him inside. His grey eyes were wide and startled, but Harry didn't stop to think. He shut the door with Malfoy's back, shoving him against it until it clicked shut, and then he leaned forward and kissed him, trembling from head to toe.

What the fuck am I doing, what the fuck am I doing?? Oh, god ... Harry's hands still gripped tightly at the soaked fabric of Malfoy's shirt, and just as he was about to pull away in embarrassment, Malfoy's hands touched down upon his shoulders, resting there tentatively. The body Harry was crushing against the door started breathing again, and Malfoy's lips began to move beneath his own. Harry was being kissed back.

Thunder cracked -- perhaps the loudest crack of thunder that Harry had ever heard, and he jolted physically out of Malfoy's reach. At the same moment, the living room's single lamplight ceased to burn.

They were left in complete darkness. Harry shivered from head to toe, but not from the cold.

"Harry?" A deep tremor pulsed through him at the use of his first name, and he was glad Malfoy couldn't see him.

He forced himself to utter a response, which came out more like a grunt that had gotten caught in his throat. "Uh-huh?"

"Are you gay?"

Harry blinked in astonishment. "Well, what do you think?"

"Have you ever been with a guy before?"

A pause. "Y-yes."

"Other than just now?" Harry could hear the smirk behind the words.

"Well ... no, but ... I've thought about --" Harry cut himself off before saying 'you'.

"You've thought about it before?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

Another pause. "Yes."

"Me, too."

Silence, but for the rain.

"Draco?"

There was a change in the proportion of air and solid object in front of him, as if with some sixth sense he could tell, without sight or sound, that Malfoy -- Draco? -- had shifted, and then Harry felt a body melt against his own.

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's middle, and buried his face in his neck, like it belonged there. Harry's brain stopped. Somehow, he managed to persuade his own arms to encircle Draco's soggy shoulders, but even then, there was no comprehension. He could only exist in the moment that he found himself a part of, the moment that was threatening to overwhelm every single one of his senses. He could barely breathe.

And then Draco was pushing him backwards, and kissing his neck. Harry could not summon the strength to say so, but instinct told him that they were about to back into the coffee table, and so he led them in another direction, hopefully towards the couch. The back of his knees hit the arm of it, and he let himself fall backwards, pulling Draco down with him. There was a bolt of lightning, and both of them held their breaths, waiting for the crack. A second later it came, but this time they were ready for it. Neither of them pulled away.

Harry couldn't stop shaking. He was so unaccustomed to the pressures of Draco's body up against his, pressures in such very different places. His thoughts whirled. God, breasts were so stupid! Who had even come up with the male and female design, and who first claimed that that was most natural? With such feminine tissues in the way of complete contact, he had never been able to understand that two bodies could be so absolutely tight like this, chest to chest. Harry couldn't believe he'd actually ever been fond of a breast before.

And fuck. He'd never imagined that two men could be together like this, with two half-hard cocks touching through wet trousers and semi-dry pyjama bottoms. At first Draco's cock was just there, against his.

But then he moved, and Harry's entire world seemed to explode with sensation. He couldn't think, and somehow it was like this was the moment Harry had been waiting for all his life. For the first time, Harry was feeling more than he was thinking, and he couldn't control himself. He rocked upward to meet Draco's cock with his own, grabbed at Draco's hips, stole Draco's mouth away from doing whatever magical thing it had been doing to his neck for a searing kiss.

He had never let himself go like this. When he'd been with Ginny, he kept waiting for it to feel right, for the passion to mount, but he'd always felt like he was forcing himself to move, willing himself to come, hoping that it was better for her than it had been for him, but this? Oh god, this ...

This was beyond anything he'd ever even considered himself capable of. He was moaning -- oh, god, was it really him making those noises? -- and Draco's eyes were above him, grey and vibrant, echoes of his own pleasure. Harry was desperate for closer contact, and his hands started to make their way down to the button on his pajama pants, but they were abruptly thwarted: Draco had grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, against the arm of the couch, and Harry shuddered, arching upward, holding back another moan.

It was just cock against cock now, with wet, friction-warmed layers of slippery clothing dividing them. Harry wished that he knew a wandless spell that would remove it all, but he did not; Draco seemed hell-bent on torturing him, doing this the hard way, leaving bruises on his neck and wrists and cock.

Draco stopped thrusting, and Harry whimpered as he began moving back and forth, achingly slow, letting their cocks slide, graze the other just so.

Harry wanted to cry. He couldn't help himself; now that his eyes had adjusted as well as they could to the blackness, he looked up into grey eyes that seemed so in control, and so light that Harry swore there was a bit of blue in them - but it could have been a trick of the lightning. As the inevitable thunder crashed, it seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body, and he felt Draco start above him.

He stared into Draco's eyes and began thrusting upwards to meet him as hard as he could while being held prisoner. Draco, breathing heavily, began grinding against him harder than before; there were beads of sweat forming on his brow, and as Harry looked up, he knew perfection. He would never have been able to dream up a more perfect vision than this; he had never imagined that he could have sex with someone else and feel conscious of his soul within him. Even though it was dark, the sensations filling his body and his heart were more vivid than anything he'd ever known.

Harry was going to come in his pants, any second now. Draco was moaning above him and then he thrust once, twice, and cried out; Harry immediately followed suit. His orgasm ripped through him, overpowering him completely. He saw white, riding it out for as long as he could. And then he was gone, he was spent. Jesus Christ.

Draco's body was limp on top of his, wet, warm and sticky. His head came down to rest on Harry's chest. He finally let go of Harry's wrists, and Harry realised his hands had gone numb at some point. He stroked Draco's hair without feeling it until their breathing had returned to a steady pace. Draco looked up, and placed an unexpected kiss on the tip of Harry's nose.

"Draco," Harry whispered. The thunder was rolling away, mere rumbles in the distance. A light rain tapped at the windows.

"I know -- you don't have to say it. I'm the best shag you've ever had."

Harry laughed. "Well, true, but that wasn't what I was going to say."

Draco sat up, and Harry shivered as he was left without that pleasant warmth on top of him. He dug in his sleeve, and, to his surprise, found his wand still there. He dried them both, paying special attention to the fronts of their pants, and then settled into the crook of the couch. Draco scooted closer, turning to sit cross-legged at Harry's side.

"What were you going to say?" Draco intoned quietly.

"That that was ... that was probably the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me." Harry turned to look at Draco, who looked baffled, but pleased.

"I don't understand you, Potter."

"So it's back to Potter, now?" Harry teased. Draco tilted his head to one side, almost shyly.

Then he leaned forward a bit, hand tentatively reaching for Harry's. "It's going to take some getting used to, don't you think?"

Harry smiled, revelling in the feel of Draco's hand in his. "Yeah."

With a sad smile, Draco shifted his gaze to the window. The rain drizzled down the glass in non-descript patterns, creating shimmering shadows on the floor. He looked worried.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, concerned.

Draco nodded, but he didn't turn away from the window. With a surge of courage, Harry touched Draco's cheek with his free hand, turning his head to face him.

"What is it?"

After a deep breath, Draco sighed, his other hand coming up to rest on top of Harry's on his cheek. His grey eyes pierced into Harry's, and Harry wished with all his might that Draco would tell him, could feel secure in telling him.

"You saw today that I had the Mark. Didn't you?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed like a fish, eyes stealing a glance at Draco's left wrist, at his own hand underneath Draco's upon his cheek. "Yes, I did. What does it matter?"

"How doesn't it matter, Harry? I pay for this every single day of my life!" Draco rolled up the sleeve, and the Mark was visible. "Things wouldn't ever be easy, with me. I'll never get away from the accusations and the reputation ... not ever! I'm doing the best I can to change people's minds about me, but I'm starting to think that it's pointless. How could I possibly expect you to forgive me? And even if you somehow could, how could I expect you to deal with all that will undoubtedly come with … this?" He made a vague gesture indicating the two of them, and Harry’s heart swelled.

"Draco, listen to me." Harry turned to sit cross-legged, a mirror image of Draco as he faced him, grabbing both his hands in his. "Do you honestly think that I will ever have a normal, simple, carefree life? Do you really think things changed all that much after the war, regarding the media, at least?"

"You're Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake. Everybody loves you, you could do no wrong. If they saw you with me ..."

"But my name's already in the paper as often, if not more, than yours. Sure, they'd talk, but what's new? People don't leave me alone, Draco, and I'll never get away from my reputation, either. I'm not perfect or wondrous in any way, but everyone in the wizarding world seems to think so, and they'll never change their minds."

Draco shook his head, staring at his own exposed wrist with bitterness. "But how can you not care about it? I did this to myself, Harry, I went and I asked for it, and I got it of my own accord, and ..."

"And you made a mistake," Harry finished. Draco looked up at him, eyes wide. "You've changed since then, haven't you?"

"Yes," Draco whispered, seeming to shrink a little.

"Well, I've made plenty of mistakes, too." Harry entwined his fingers with Draco's, and squeezed.


:: :: :: :: ::


Monday September 21st, 1999 - 5:00 p.m.

"Why not look at it as an exercise in trust and caution?"

Draco shook his head, burying his face in his hands. Harry and Draco were both seated in Professor Stark's office after class; he said he'd needed a private meeting with his prize pair.

"Because that's not what it is, Professor. I don't need Harry to take care of me."

Harry begged to differ, but the issue wasn't really his own, at the moment. The professor had just announced that, on Ministry order, Draco was to be escorted at all times -- at least until they had caught Dominik Pavel. He had disappeared since the attack in the bathroom.

For once, Harry and the Ministry were on the same page: Draco was most definitely in need of as much protection as he could get.

"Are you sure I'm the right person for this?" Harry asked skeptically. "I mean, I'm happy to do it, but shouldn't a full-fledged Auror ... be ..."

Draco looked scandalised, and Harry had stopped speaking mid-sentence. "Harry, come on! If this has to happen, I don't want an Auror trailing me around, I'd much rather have ... just, stop making this even more difficult than it needs to be!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. There's nothing I can do. If I don't insist that you follow along, I could be arrested." Professor Stark stared down at the Ministry order in his hands. "Honestly, I don't think it's going to last for very long. Just give it time. With the both of you together, just think of it as an excuse to get farther ahead in class!"

Draco did not share the professor's enthusiasm. He gritted his teeth, sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Professor Stark turned to Harry. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Mr. Potter. The two of you together can handle this. I have the utmost confidence in you."

"Well. All right," Harry said weakly, as Draco made a non-committal noise beside him.

After they left the office, they turned together towards the exit. They had made plans for dinner, but now Harry was walking ahead of Draco, and speeding up.

"Harry?" Draco asked, pulling on his elbow, but Harry tugged his arm away. He knew that he was overreacting, but at the moment he didn't care; he was hurt that Draco had so vehemently objected to being put in his care.

"Harry! Listen to me, okay? It's nothing personal."

Harry stopped walking at once, turning to face him. "Oh, really? How do you figure that?"

Draco winced. "I just ... this whole situation reminds me too much of the war. I feel like Professor Stark doesn't trust me, you know? Like he thinks I'm not powerful enough without you to be able to take care of myself!"

"That's ridiculous, of course he doesn't think that --"

"Doesn't he? He trusts you more than he trusts me to watch out for myself. I don't know, Harry."

Harry's expression softened, and he relaxed. He let Draco take his hand. "He just wants to be careful, that's all."

"He's forcing me to stay somewhere against my will. Voldemort did that, Harry. I'm just not happy about it."


:: :: :: :: ::


8:20 p.m.

Harry had given in, after all. Though the Ministry order had stated that Draco was to stay at Harry's flat, Harry found himself at home alone, putting together an overnight bag and Apparating over to Draco's flat, instead. If it would make for a less whiney and annoying Draco Malfoy, Harry was all for it. He didn't feel that they would have been any safer at his own flat, really. And they would still be together, which, he supposed, was the important thing.

When he had arrived just outside the door of Draco's flat -- feeling far less anxious this time -- he knocked. For several long moments he waited, and then knocked again, but to no effect. Worry settled in the pit of his stomach, and he turned the door handle. He was very surprised when it gave no resistance, and the door opened quite easily. Draco must have had the wards down just for him, specifically. Perhaps he'd implemented the touch-and-go ward that Professor Stark had mentioned in class last week - at a specific person's touch on a door handle or any other surface, the wards would permit them, and only them, entry.

Draco wasn't in the living room or kitchen area. Harry dropped his bag on the floor by the couch, looking around. The bedroom door stood ajar, and Harry could hear running water. Could he be in the shower? He peered inside the dark bedroom; a door that could only have been the bathroom was open a crack, and light was filtering through, allowing one long line of light to pierce the darkness along the floor.

The line of light seemed to be pointing directly at Harry. He walked along it as if it were a specifically designed pathway, and stood just outside the bathroom door. When he looked through the crack, he had to fight to keep from gasping out loud.

Harry had been right -- Draco was in the shower, visible through the single, sheer shower curtain. With trepidation, Harry struggled to think of what time it was; when he'd Apparated, it had been around 8:20, and so he supposed he was a few minutes early. Even so, it wasn't like Draco to run behind.

Harry's vision had gone lax as he thought, but then there was movement from behind the shower curtain, and Harry looked up, soon finding himself utterly transfixed.

Draco washed himself with his bare hands, soap bubbles making his skin glisten in the areas he had already scrubbed clean. Harry's own hair got a lot darker when it was wet, but not Draco's. His hair was as white-blond as it ever was when it was dry. He turned slightly under the spray, towards Harry's direct line of sight, and Harry was forced to draw the same conclusion about the rest of the hair on Draco's body. The light smattering of hair on his chest that trickled downwards, getting sparser and sparser until it condensed all at once beneath his belly-button and on down: it was all the same shade of blond.

Harry grinned; he had to admit that he'd been curious, and though he felt much like a stalker, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the scene before him. He hadn't been physical with Draco since the night he had shown up at his flat in the rain, and even then, he'd seen more of Draco's body during the duel than he'd seen that night.

The scar on Draco's chest was especially visible in the heat and steam of the shower. With all of his might Harry hated himself in that moment, for being so careless -- for being the cause of so much of Draco's embarrassment and pain. He'd have done anything in his power to take it back.

But Harry was roughly jarred from his bitter train of thought as he saw Draco's hand lower itself inch by inch down his chest, over his stomach, to wrap around his cock. He didn't seem to be doing anything other than enjoying the beat of the spray against his back, and the feel of his dick in his hand. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Harry's cock gave a twitch, beginning to stir at the display.

He really should leave now. This was a ridiculous amount of spying, and Draco deserved his own private shower time. There was absolutely no reason that Harry should still be standing there, he should go sit and wait in the living room until Draco had finished, as he was sure the blond had intended.

Draco's hand began to move slowly, and within seconds his length had begun to harden in his hand. Just unhurried, steady strokes; Harry found his breath catching in his chest rather dramatically, and his own cock began to harden in imitation, as if it were the one being teased and fondled before him.

It occurred to Harry then that perhaps Draco had intended for him to see this. Really, it was sort of like he'd left a trail of breadcrumbs for Harry to follow: the open doors, the guiding light from the bathroom that shone like a beacon, and the fact that Draco should have been expecting him to arrive at this time.

Perhaps not, though. Maybe Draco had just lost track of time. Harry really should turn around right about now --

But in the next instant, Harry's decisions were no longer his own. He could not make himself turn around, as Draco's easy pace had suddenly quickened. The blond was holding onto the wall with his other hand for support, moaning something quite unintelligible from Harry's vantage point under his breath, and before Harry even realised what he was doing, he had unzipped his trousers and was stroking himself in time with Draco.

Harry would have been content to just watch the glorious scene unfolding before him, like so many fantasies of his own suddenly come true, but it came to him all at once that wanking on the sidelines was not all he could do in this situation. He didn't know where his instincts were coming from, but a strange certainty was taking hold of him and he was wrestling to lift his shirt over his head and kick off his shoes at the same time. He pulled his trousers off and tore off his socks, and then peered through the door crack to be sure he hadn't been heard. Draco was fully engrossed now in his wank, so Harry was fairly certain he hadn't been.

Stepping out of his boxer shorts, he pushed open the bathroom door slowly, so that it would surely creak. He wanted Draco to notice and be surprised, but he didn't want to frighten him.

Draco started at the noise, and he let himself go hurriedly, but when he turned and saw Harry standing there, a slow smile spread across his face. "You're late," Draco admonished quietly as he stared, taking in the details of Harry's form.

"No," Harry said gently, taking a few steps forward. "I'm right on time, actually."

Harry's cock stood at attention, weeping for contact as he removed his glasses and set them on the lowest shelf of Draco's medicine cabinet. He'd come this far on pure nerve, but a seed of uncertainty had weaseled its way into his mind, and he paused before going any further. "Should I ...?"

"Yes. Get the hell in here, please." Draco pulled aside the shower curtain and all the small details that had been slightly skewered through it came into focus: the intensely grey eyes, the throbbing pink muscle between his legs, and the redness of the ugly scar all along his chest.

With a strangled sort of whimper, Harry had climbed over the low tub and had Draco pinned against the wall. The water was hot; he hadn't taken any time to get used to it, he'd simply ploughed ahead, and now he was in the thick of it and didn't know whether it was really the hot water that was such a surprise, or if it was the heat of the wet body beneath him.

Harry's mouth slammed against Draco's, demanding entrance, and Draco obliged, opening his mouth and letting Harry's tongue plunder him. Draco was writhing, moaning through the kiss, and Harry rocked forward, forcing their cocks together.

"Oh God ... Harry ..." Draco was arching forward, fingers scrambling against the tiled walls for something to hold onto. When Harry finally opened his eyes, he saw shocking grey staring back at him with so much need, so much desire; he groaned in the back of his throat and began to kiss and suck at Draco's neck, applying his teeth lightly at first and then without warning more viciously, and Draco arched into him again.

Harry's hands lightly roamed over Draco's chest, and they found his scar, which did not feel as rough and damaged as it looked. He ran his hands over Draco's shoulders and back down again, over his hair, and his nipples; Draco shuddered in response and Harry grinned against his neck, sucking his way down his chest. His tongue began to make light circular motions over Draco's left nipple, and Draco sucked in a breath, seeming to have trouble letting it back out again in anything other than tiny spurts of uncontrolled air; one of his hands came to rest atop Harry's head, and very gently and persistently began press down upon it.

At first, Harry didn't get it ... until he got it, and a nervous feeling settled immediately in his gut. He allowed himself to be maneuvered downward, though he resisted slightly, making sure to kiss and suck every inch of Draco's skin along the way. Harry kneeled, and Draco laughed for a few seconds as Harry kissed the area around his belly-button; he seemed especially ticklish there, and Harry smiled, filing the information away in his memory for later, because Draco's ticklish spots were not his biggest concern at the moment.

Harry's biggest concern was the erect penis that was currently staring him in the face. He'd -- he'd never even touched another man's penis, though he obviously knew the theory of how things worked. Harry's hands were resting on Draco's thighs, and slowly, cautiously, he moved his right hand along Draco's skin until it met with the base of his cock.

Noting that his own cock might have been just a little bit bigger than Draco's - but not by all that much - he ventured that things would work very similarly. He wrapped his hand around it, applying more pressure than he normally would have as he moved along towards the head, because of all the soap. The soap created a wonderful lube, and Harry was able to move at a fairly fast pace that was leaving Draco panting above him. It really wasn't all that different from wanking himself off, only this was -- this was intensely more erotic. He found himself so completely attentive to giving Draco pleasure; Harry's own pleasure was somehow banked on it. Touching Draco like this was almost an extension of himself -- he found himself growing harder and harder, and could hardly resist running his other hand along his own length.

"Harry ... please, I want you to ... I'm going to ... please ... oh, fuck ..." Draco begged, and it was all Harry could do not to indulge him. He leaned forward, heart pumping like mad, hoping that he wouldn't mess it all up as he took a tentative lick, from the base of Draco's cock all the way to the head. Interesting. Harry stared up for the first time into Draco's eyes, which were wide and imploring above him, lips parted just slightly; he was flushed a deep pink, the darkest colouring that Harry had ever seen on Draco before. He thought it suited him.

"Please what, Draco?" Harry asked, smiling sweetly up at the prone figure above him. Draco moaned, and he seemed unable to control it when his hips thrust forward, but Harry took hold of his hips again and pushed him back against the wall.

"Harry Potter ... I'm going to fucking kill you," Draco muttered through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's not like it's the first time I've heard that one." One of Harry's hands snaked between Draco's legs, and his fingers began to teasingly brush against his balls.

Draco thrashed wildly, though he didn't get very far - Harry's other hand was still holding him against the wall.

"Please ..."

"Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it," Harry promised, grinning evilly.

Draco nearly growled in frustration. "I want you to put my bloody cock in your mouth, Potter, and I want you to suck it!"

Harry appeared confused. "You mean ... just put it right in there, and suck? You don't want me to put my mouth on you like this, just over the head, and --" Harry leaned forward and took the head of Draco's cock in between his lips, sliding back and forth and letting his tongue flirt with the idea of moving beneath his foreskin. Draco immediately thrust forward again, but Harry pushed his hips firmly against the wall once more.

After several moments had passed, and Draco hadn't thrust forward or begged while Harry had sucked gently on his head, Harry supposed that he should take more of it into his mouth. This was the part that he was afraid of, however. He had no idea if he had a gag reflex or not, if he'd be able to coordinate his lips and jaw and throat and hand to all work together towards the same common goal of getting Draco Malfoy off.

But it was now or never; he didn't know how much longer Draco would last before realising that he could simply take hold of his head and fuck his mouth, which was something Harry had been fearing all along. Harry would much rather be in control of the situation.

And so Harry opened his mouth wider and took as much of Draco's cock down his throat as he could stand; it happened to be a significant amount more than he had initially thought, which pleased him. The sounds that Draco was making above him were well worth the bit of pain it took to stretch his jaw so wide.

When he began to pull away, he put more pressure around Draco's length with his lips, sure to flutter his tongue lavishly around the area just under the head, which he hoped was just as sensitive on Draco as it was on him.

"Harry ... Harry ... oh, fucking god ... " Draco moaned out, and Harry moved towards him, taking in the length again. He repeated this rhythm, slowly gaining speed. Draco's moaning accelerated into yells, and then Harry felt Draco's hands in his hair, but he wasn't pushing or pulling -- he was just holding on, for which Harry was grateful.

All at once, Draco's cock was harder in his mouth than Harry thought it had any right being, and he didn't stop to wonder why this was. He just continued to suck and to bob back and forth, feeling his jaw beginning to ache, but he didn't care; Draco was loving it, how could he not love it, too?

"Har - I'm gonna --" Draco pulled almost painfully at Harry's hair, and suddenly he was coming into Harry's mouth. Completely surprised by this, but thankfully not at all averse to swallowing, Harry's eyes widened and he looked up half-way through Draco's orgasm, still sucking, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face ...

Draco was looking down at him, mouth wide in a silent scream. His eyes were open and bright and more alive than Harry could ever remember having seen them. When it was over, Draco closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands as Harry regretfully let Draco's softening cock out of his mouth and stood to face him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly, feeling as if the sound of the running water couldn't possibly have been the only noise in the background during the first blow-job he'd ever given. Surely there had been music playing of some sort, because the sound of the water now sounded so empty to his ears.

Harry's hands went out to pull Draco's down from over his face, finding the blond with nearly the same expression in his eyes, although he had closed his mouth. "Draco?"

"Jesus Christ." Draco shook his head back and forth rather mechanically. "That was your first time?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah, well ... yeah. Was it all right?"

Draco laughed, grasping Harry's hands tighter in his. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was more than all right, that was ... that was amazing." Draco actually blushed, and Harry didn't have the chance to look shocked because Draco had leaned in to kiss him.

He had almost forgotten that it had been Draco who had come, and not him. When he felt Draco's body moving against his still rock-hard prick, he moaned into his mouth, hands feeling along Draco's back where he was pretty sure the bathroom tiles were outlined in his skin. Lower and lower his hands roamed, until they were resting on the cheeks of Draco's arse, very tentatively.


More uncharted territory. But this time, he didn't feel nervous. His hands upon Draco's arse felt so right; he had to resist the urge to turn him around and fuck him against the wall of the shower right then and there ...

"Draco ... I just ... can I ...?" Harry didn't know how to phrase what he wanted, but Draco seemed to understand. That sweet blush was still on his face when he pulled hurriedly out of the kiss, whether it was the same blush as before or whether it had been renewed at his question, Harry did not know.

And Draco was nodding, almost shyly. "But let's ... can we do it in my bed? I'd rather it not ... the first time, in a shower, you know," he finished lamely, and Harry understood that it must be Draco's first time doing this. He'd been almost sure that Draco had lost it to Ethan Mueller, and the fact that he hadn't made his heart skip a beat.

"Of course we can. Anything you want," Harry assured him, placing one more lingering kiss on Draco's lips.

"All right, well -- I've got some lube in the kitchen," Draco said, twisting the knob set into the wall and turning the shower off. Immediately the hot water ceased, and Harry burst out laughing.

"What's it doing in the kitchen?"

Draco turned to glare at him as he stepped out of the shower, wrapping himself in a towel and throwing another at Harry. "My mum comes to visit me quite often, and she's nosy. It's much easier to pass off that sort of thing as some kind of cooking oil if she comes across it, whereas if she sees it in my bedside drawer ..."

Harry grinned in understanding, realising as he tried to do it that with the massive erection he had, there was no way in hell of successfully wrapping a towel around his waist without it looking ridiculous. He abandoned it in the bathroom and followed Draco out the door. "Want me to come with you to get it?"

Raising an eyebrow at Harry's cock and grinning suggestively, Draco shrugged. He turned to exit the room, dropping his towel nonchalantly as he was half-way across the room, treating Harry to a view of his perfect arse as he marched out the door. Harry grinned, and followed the footprints of water Draco was leaving.

Draco was kneeling down to reach into the cabinet beneath his sink when Harry emerged from the bedroom. Harry leaned sideways against the long, kitchen island, dripping water everywhere, to stare at Draco's purposefully spread arsecheeks. He wondered what it would be like to touch him there, lick him there ... god, he wanted it so fucking much ...

And then Draco stood, brandishing a small tube victoriously. "Got it."

Harry felt completely maniacal; he couldn't really get his mouth to form words that would correlate into anything that made sense with what Draco had just said. He was absolutely bowled over by the beauty of this creature before him; how hadn't he ever realised how perfect Draco was? He needed to have him, needed to be within him. Harry had never ever felt a sexual urge as strong as this; there was almost nothing he could do to stop himself as he grabbed Draco and shoved him against the kitchen island, kissing him savagely and grinding his soaking wet body against Draco's.

"Harry, what --" Draco began, but Harry cut off his words with his lips, kissing him harsher yet. He used strength he didn't even know he had to lift Malfoy by the hips up onto the island and push him backwards, scattering several pots and pans that had been stationed there to the floor with several echoing clatters. The top of the kitchen island was sanded and varnished stones of green and blue, smooth and expansive and now soaking wet; when Harry finally settled on top of Draco, he looked down to see the blue stone bringing out the colour in his eyes.

The lube was a few inches above Draco's head, and Harry grabbed it, twisting it open and depositing a glob onto the fingers of his right hand. Draco sucked in a breath as he realised exactly where Harry's hand was heading.

Harry hadn't known what to expect, or where Draco's hole would be about, exactly, but he found it easily enough. It was small and tight; Harry didn't know how his cock was going to fit. With one tentative finger, Harry stroked Draco's hole, causing the man below him to shudder convulsively.

"Oh, Harry ... oh my god ..." Draco's eyes squeezed shut and both of his arms were clutching Harry's shoulders. Harry slowly stuck the tip of his finger inside of Draco, causing him to bite his lip; after a moment, Draco relaxed, and Harry pushed his finger in a little further, a little further -- Draco was grimacing but he wasn't complaining, and Harry knew that as far gone as he was, he'd still stop the second Draco told him to.

There. One finger was all the way in, and Draco opened his eyes below him, an indescribable look on his face.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, trying his hardest to not hump the man's leg as he finger fucked him.

"I'm fine ... Merlin's fucking pants, Harry, you've got me here, now fucking ... fucking do something!" Draco practically shouted at him, bearing down upon his finger. Harry wiggled his finger, wondering where Draco's prostate could possibly be. Several seconds later, he was fairly certain he had found it, because Draco made nearly the same face he'd had as he had come in the shower, for the briefest of moments...

Harry moved his finger against the spot again and again, and Draco seemed to come apart at the seams. He was being driven mad by what Harry was doing to him, absolutely mad, he was moaning and moving all over the island, forcing Harry's single finger in and out of his hole. There seemed to be more space now, Harry thought, and so he'd entered a second finger ... a few minutes later, a third had joined, and Draco was practically in tears. Harry thought he would come just from watching him writhe on the counter below him, fucking himself on Harry's fingers.

He hadn't noticed Draco pick up the lube at all, nor when he'd slathered a bit of it into his hand. When Draco had clamped his hand around Harry's dick, that was about the time Harry took notice that Draco had decided to take things into his own hands.

Harry hissed in sudden pleasure, nearly coming on the spot. "Stop, no! Let go!" he demanded. He wasn't going to come unless it was inside of Draco Malfoy...

"Fuck me, Harry ... oh god ..." Draco had never sounded so desperate, and Harry had never felt more apt to follow an order before in his entire life. He removed his fingers from Draco's arse, and with both hands lifted Draco's legs to wind around his waist. There. He knew that a lot of men did it front to back, but this was the way that Harry had always known he would prefer... he wanted to see Draco's face, wanted to be able to kiss him if he wanted... oh god, he was about to fuck him, wasn't he?

Harry grabbed hold of himself, shifting a bit so that the angle wouldn't hurt Draco, and then he positioned himself at Draco's hole. It felt looser than it had before, but Harry still knew this was going to hurt him ... he hated that it had to hurt him, but he told himself that it would just be this first time ... and every time after this would be good for Draco, too ... it would be okay ...

And then he pushed forward, just a little bit, because the look of pain on Draco's face was enough to freeze his heart. "Are you okay?"

Draco didn't say anything, he just nodded, turning his head to the side as if he were trying to hide from Harry. After a moment, the pained looked passed, and Harry couldn't help himself, he pushed forward more, but at the returning pained look, he paused again.

"Don't stop, just go, just go ... it'll be better if you do it fast, do it ... do it, Harry!" Draco shouted, clearly in pain, and Harry didn't want to hurt him, but if it was true that it would be better to do it fast, then he would move ... and he slid the rest of the way into him. The feel of it was beyond anything that Harry had ever experienced; so tight, so much pressure in all the right places. He was not going to last long at all. It took all his willpower not to move, to let Draco adjust. He was wincing below him, but after a moment he looked up with his strange greyish blue-tinted eyes, and he nodded.

Harry began to move slowly back and forth, not willing to risk going faster, not even when it felt like heaven on earth with each little pump, each little movement ... god, he was so tight ... and when Draco began to move against him, impaling himself on Harry's dick of his own accord, Harry knew that he could take him as hard as he wanted.

"Faster, Harry ... oh, please ..." Draco was moaning, and Harry grabbed both of Draco's hands and pinned them above his head, and began to fuck him in earnest. Draco Malfoy was laid out before him, moaning and moving in time with him, and he pumped in and out of his tight arsehole only a few more times before he came. His last few thrusts were powerful enough to slide them a few inches across the island, as wet as they were, and he collapsed on top of him, heart beating so fast that he was sure it was about to explode. He wondered what had become sticky all over his stomach, and realised that Draco had come again, too...

"Draco ..." Harry's face was buried in the blond's neck; he was overcome with the desire for Draco to understand that he didn't mean to impose on him like this; not sexually, and not within his home. He wanted Draco to be all right with everything, to understand ...

"You can't be ready for another go already, can you?" Draco murmured into his hair, out of breath.

Harry managed a weak laugh. "No, no, I just ... Draco, Professor Stark is such a fucking idiot."

With a bit of difficulty, as Harry was still sheathed inside of him, Draco sat up on his elbows. "Please don't bring up Professor Stark right now! This subject matter is disturbing me very greatly at the moment ......"

But Harry seemed not to have heard him. His cock was getting softer and slowly slipping out of Draco's arse, and he hadn't made to move form his position above him at all. His eyes burned with an earnestness that made the blond lose his train of thought entirely. "I know you can take care of yourself, do you know that?"

Draco sighed desperately, and Harry wasn't sure if it was from the loss of being filled, or from Harry's statement. "Harry, I know."

"But I -- I need to make sure that you really know." Harry sat back on his knees, and pulled Draco up to sit in front of him. "I wish everyone in the wizarding world, Professor Stark included, could see in you what I see ... I wish they had the faith I have, and you know what, Draco? I know I don't need to be here. But I --" He paused, choking up, and only when Draco's hands clasped his tightly did he feel he could continue. "I'd be here even if I didn't have to be. I ... I want to be with you."

The hands in Harry's were shaking, and when Harry looked up into grey eyes, he could see Draco's resolve struggling not to break. It was almost a process that Harry could see going on behind Draco's eyes and in his expression; the mask that Draco always hid behind was fighting with an onslaught of emotion within him, and for several moments Harry wasn't sure which would win. Half expecting Draco to slide off the island and away from him, Harry lessened his grip on Draco's hands, turning his face away.

"Harry --" Draco's voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it carried with such magnitude that Harry froze, looking at him, and then Draco had thrown himself forward into Harry's arms, trembling all over. "God, I'm afraid to want you."

The whispered sentiment in his ear made Harry's heart jump wildly, and in his effort to hold Draco closer his legs had gone around his waist and they were abruptly so wrapped up in one another that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

"Why are you afraid of me? Don't be, please please don't be ..." Harry broke apart just enough for their foreheads to touch, so that he could see Draco's eyes, and try to determine whether it was him or the mask speaking.

"You're going to disappear, Harry. I will admit to myself that I want you -- maybe even need you -- and the next thing I know, you'll be gone." There was a bitterness bursting through Draco's devastation, and Harry knew that this was really what Draco believed.

"No, no, no ... I won't be. Listen to me --"

"Fuck, Harry!" Draco yelled, startling Harry, who realised that Draco was probably only yelling to stop himself from bursting into unwanted tears. "Can't we go sit on the couch, and talk about this?"

Harry looked around, half surprised that they were still perched atop the kitchen island. It had seemed to him that they'd transcended into some other state of consciousness where surroundings didn't really matter; Draco was trying so very hard to ground himself from that, and Harry frowned. "Yeah, all right." They climbed down a bit clumsily, still sweaty and sticky, and Harry took his hand, leading them towards Draco's bedroom instead of the couch. Draco didn't complain or question Harry's direction.

The bedroom was an alien atmosphere, so different from the brightness of the kitchen. When Draco shut the door behind them, the only light came from the half-closed bathroom doorway, and their naked bodies were strikingly altered - all shadow and sinew and unknown depth. Harry didn't let it phase him as he held still tighter to Draco's hand and pulled him up onto his own bed. After that, Harry lay back on top of the covers and let Draco's hand go, letting him call the shots. He didn't want to do or say anything that might frighten him even more.

But to his surprise, the blond sidled up beside him, forcing Harry to turn and face him. Even in the near darkness, Harry could see a quiet anguish in Draco's eyes as he spoke. "Harry, I've ... I have never found myself able to tell anyone about the things that go on in my head."

Harry's hand reached up to grace his cheek, sliding a lock of white-blond behind his ear, but he said nothing, only waited.

"And I'm not going to lie to you and say that I feel comfortable telling you everything about me," he went on quickly. "But for the first time in my life, I actually ... I don't want to be alone in my head. I want to be able to tell you."

Harry's heart was pounding with nervous energy. "Draco, I ..." His hand had frozen in Draco's hair, flat against the back of his head, and he just wanted to inch forward and kiss him and kiss him, but he was sure Draco hadn't finished speaking yet.

"Can you be okay with knowing that there are things I can't tell you or explain to you yet, Harry?" The fear in Draco's voice was clear and distinct, and Harry knew that all of Draco's hopes were riding on this moment, on his response. Draco was putting himself out there, even though he seemed more afraid of doing so than of anything Harry had ever seen him face before ... and literally, for nothing.

"Of course I can. I mean, Jesus. I'm Harry Potter. You think I don't have a lot of secrets?"

Draco looked a bit surprised, but he managed to crack a small smile. "You, Potter? Secrets? Pray tell."

"All in due course, I'm sure. But seriously ... Draco? There is only one thing in you that I find fault with."

"And ... and what's that?"

Harry sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow and looking down at the blond. "Your only problem, Draco Malfoy, is that you seem to think I can't understand where you're coming from. That I won't be able to forgive you your vices. What you aren't getting is that I am probably the only person in the world who truly can." Draco's breath hitched in his throat. He didn't seem to be able to look at Harry anymore, and so he buried his face in his chest. "Our lives haven't been the same by any means, Draco, but you and I? We've been to hell and back, haven't we." Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, resting his chin on his head. "And ... I think I'm coming to understand the same exact things about you."

Draco managed to somehow giggle through his tears. "So what you're telling me is that we are the two biggest fuck-ups in the entire world, and nobody else would be able to really handle any of our respective shit?"

Harry laughed too, smiling down into his hair. For a few moments they lay there, just hanging on to one another. Neither said anything, and it was very comfortable, until Harry found himself shivering. "Can we get underneath?" Harry asked, and then both boys crawled under the comforter, settling back into one another's warmth.

"Do you believe in karma, Harry?" Draco asked, seeming to wonder out loud, staring at the ceiling. A car's headlights from far down below shone momentarily through the half-open shutters, illuminating the stretch of ceiling for a second or two.

"Mm, not really. I don't really know. I've never really thought about it before."

"I think karma is one of the only things I can rightly believe in."

"How come?"

"What goes around comes around. Always."

"Always?" Harry thought about his parents. Had they done something to deserve being murdered? Something behind closed doors that no one but Karma Personified would ever know about?

"Of course it doesn't seem fair to the ones around karma's victim. But really, it only has to do with one individual person. I think it's really personal that way."

Harry sighed, tracing circles with his finger tips over Draco's stomach. "I'm not sure what I believe, but I think karma is a bit backwards, if it's true."

Draco picked up Harry's hand from where it lay caressing his stomach, and he gripped it gingerly, his fingers making their way to the tips of Harry's fingers and back down to his palm again.

"Karma only seems backwards when it comes to me, Harry," he whispered, fingers now ghosting over his arm and up his shoulder, settling lightly on his neck. Harry shivered. "I don't think I deserve you."

Harry started. "What? What do you even mean, don't deserve me? I want to be here with you, and so I am. It's that simple." Harry frowned. "I thought you said you believed in karma. How can you believe in it, but think it's backwards only when it comes to you?"

A smirk formed on Draco's face. "I don't know. I can never seem to believe in anything wholeheartedly for more than a couple of minutes."

"So you're basically a walking contradiction?"

Draco paused. "I think it's just that nothing has stayed continuously valid and true in my life without changing, at some point. I don't really know how to believe in anything."

Harry found himself wanting to be the exception to that rule in Draco's life, but something held him back from saying so. The blond was looking sadly up at the ceiling; he was practically begging to be proved wrong -- or maybe it was just Harry's sudden determination to prove him wrong. But he just couldn't say anything right now without possibly going too far, and he wouldn't take the chance of messing this up. He would never push Draco farther than he was ready to go -- not ever.

He shifted closer to Draco under the comforter, and tentatively reached out. The other boy responded and was soon in his arms, resting his head along Harry's chest, as seemed to be one of his favourite places. Their legs intertwined, and Harry pulled him as close as he possibly could against him.



Part 4