Harry wakes.
The dream of death at Hogwarts grips him again, and he fights to slow his breathing. He likes to think they're getting easier, less heart-breaking, but if it's not Fred, it's Tonks. If it's not Snape, it's Colin. Sometimes Neville doesn't get the sword out of the flaming sorting hat quick enough, and he's reduced to a smouldering pile of bones. Sometimes it's not Molly who gets in the killing shot, but Bellatrix.
And sometimes, Draco loses his grip on Harry and slips from the broom, getting swallowed up by the flames in the Room of Requirement, his screams resonating in Harry's ears.
This is the vision he's trying to shake now, but nausea grips him too, not just fear, and he can't seem to free himself. "Draco's fine," he mummers to himself. "He's alive, he's okay."
It's been weeks since the incident in the bathroom, and Harry understands now he can't shift this gnawing sensation growing in his heart. He and Draco are civil in lessons and at meal times, but they haven't really spoken and Harry isn't sure how much he remembers from that drunken haze. But Harry remembers everything, as does his cock, which now wakes him regularly with wistful thoughts of soft blond hair and pale pink lips.
Maybe they should talk. But how would he start a conversation like that? Harry argues with himself. "Hey – you know how you said you wanted to get me into bed? Well now I can't stop wanking over you." Hmm.
He gets up, seeing the time is just gone two in the morning. He finds his slippers and his wand before putting his glasses back on. The nights are chillier now, so he throws on a jumper too over his pyjamas, and creeps quietly outside. He checks the bathroom, pretending he isn't hoping to see a pair of legs sticking out of the shower cubicle again. He doesn't like the idea of Draco hurting himself in the slightest, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't half hopeful of recreating their solitary rendezvous.
He takes a piss, washes his hands and splashes water on his face, before wandering down to the common room. He thinks of possibly sourcing some food from the House Elves, maybe curling up in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.
The Eighth Years had been given their own, new section on the fourth floor for a unified house, and Harry still found having everything on one floor strange after Gryffindor's spiralling tower. But there was a sense of comradery here that made him glad they hadn't all been put back in the regular four houses. The couple dozen of them that had wanted to come back to school to study for their NEWTs shared something important; they were survivors, and Harry finds after everything that his old house loyalty and pride seem a bit defunct when they all literally fought for their lives together this summer. He guesses he's still a Gryffindor at heart, but he's happier now that they all seem to just refer to themselves as 'Eighth Years'.
The best aspect of their new common room is that it has large, glass doors which open out onto a wide balcony that overlooks the school grounds. Before he goes on the hunt for something to eat or drink, Harry decides to step out and look at the night sky for a while, maybe clear his head from thoughts of lost friends or the now-persistent longing for Draco Malfoy.
This might have worked, if Draco Malfoy hadn't already been standing on the other side of the doors.
Harry stands there in shock, hand on the glass pane as he stares dumbly at Draco leaning on the stone railing. Should he leave? Has he seen him?
"Stalking me, Harry?" Draco asks, answering his questions.
He's not sure what to say, how to defend himself when he's sure his guilty thoughts are splashed all over his face. "Sorry," he stutters, moving away. "I just-"
"Relax, I'm teasing," he says, finally turning around. "I'm not very good at it," he adds with a roll of the eyes. He's dressed the most casually Harry's ever seen him; navy joggers and a grey long sleeved t-shirt that he's rolled up to the elbows. His blond hair ruffles in the wind glancing off the great lake stretched out below them, and his angular face has a softness to it that Harry doesn't remember from their years together at school.
"Oh," says Harry a little stupidly. "Did you want to be alone?"
"From other people," he states. "Yes. But like I said the other night, I don't mind you so much."
He grins lopsidedly, and Harry feels his insides flutter. "You remember that then," he says, coming out to stand next to the balcony edge as well, a few feet away from Draco. "I wasn't sure, you didn't say anything."
Draco shrugs. "Neither did you, I didn't want to push it."
Harry feels his courage swell, and the tingling in his lower regions propels him a step closer. "And what is 'it' exactly?" he asks.
Draco leans on the stone lip again and looks up at him through his hair. It's got a bit longer since the summer, and it adds to this new softness Harry's seeing more and more of. "Don't worry," Draco assures him. "'It' doesn't have to be anything. Like I said, I was drunk, I maybe acted rashly, but I don't regret it. So you don't have to say anything if you don't want, I'd be happy carrying on with this arrangement we now have of not killing each other."
Harry wonders if that's the longest and most pleasant thing Draco's ever said to him. Probably. And the fact he's giving Harry a pass, not pressuring him, it's a shift in personality as well. The aggression that laced his every action seems to have melted somewhat, and he's more approachable because of it.
Harry doesn't want a pass to forget what happened. He wants to know more.
"Yeah," he agrees. "Not killing each other is good, but – you were trying to pull me into bed, I didn't make that up right?"
"No, you did not," Draco replies evenly. "But I can see how you'd be disgusted with the idea, so if you're not interested, that's fine. But I'm not really up for any personal attacks on my moral standing."
"I don't care if you're gay," Harry says quickly and decisively.
Draco arches an eyebrow. "How refreshing," he drawls. "But that's not exactly what I meant." He brandishes his Dark Mark, his fist closed defensively below it. "Surely you see how ridiculous it is for me to want you, after the way I've treated you, and your friends, this whole school even. I'm not fool enough to think that wouldn't be stacked against me."
Harry takes in the mark. If he's cut on himself again, he's done a better job of healing the wounds than before. He can't help but hope that instead he just hasn't replaced the razorblade that Harry still has sitting on his bedside cabinet.
He thinks about what he wants to say, how he wants to say it. "I spoke at your trail," he starts.
"I noticed," Draco quips, and Harry glares at him to be quiet.
"I think I understand what you went through a lot better than you realise," he carries on, holding Draco's gaze until the other boy breaks and studies his tattoo instead. "You were in an impossible situation with Voldemort" – Draco winces but he ignores it – "A situation your father put you in. And now you're free, you've got your life back, and it isn't hard to see you're trying to make the most of it. You've come back to school, and that can't be easy, people haven't been kind to you."
Draco shakes his head. "Let them," he said firmly. "I did help put them in danger. I made a lot of fucked up decisions and I can't blame them all on my father, I have to live with them, move on, make amends where I can or just forget." He looks back up at Harry, determination blazing behind his pupils. "I promised myself before I came back here I was only going to move forward from now on, and never let anybody play me the way either of them did. I'd rather die. So I don't care if people like me or not, I don't care what they think of what I did. I'm my own person for the first time in my life, and no one's going to carve my destiny but me."
He exhales, his breath slightly misty in the night air, the look on his face challenging Harry to disagree with him. "Good," he says to him instead. "Because this new Draco's alright. I'd hate for that other twat to come back."
Draco laughs. "So I'm Draco now?" he says, apparently relieved that Harry believes him when he says he's changed.
Harry shrugs. "I'm Harry, so it seems," he tells him. "Besides, new you – new name. It works for me."
Draco shakes his head and leans his back on the stonework, lacing his fingers in front of him. "Okay," he says slowly. "So, Harry, you want to talk about my behaviour the other night in my room? Because I feel like you do."
Harry tilts his head; he's right, he does want to talk about it, he needs to understand where this insatiable lust has come from, what Draco has awoken in him. "It just took me by surprise, I guess," he says honestly.
Draco sniggers. "Yeah, I guess it would have been a bit of a surprise for you, you always have been a bit oblivious."
Even though Harry responds with a "Hey!" he knows there's no malice behind Draco's words. "I should have figured it out before?" he clarifies.
Draco runs his tongue over his teeth, and something hot pools in Harry's belly, wishing it were his tongue instead. "I don't know, I am pretty cunning," Draco jokes. "A Slytherin fooling a Gryffindor is hardly unprecedented," he adds with a wink.
The hotness tugs at Harry, urging him a bit nearer. "So you're telling me you've fancied me for a while."
"Merlin you're narcissistic," Draco cries dramatically. "Yes, alright. I, Draco Malfoy, have been pretty keen on shagging you, Harry Potter, for a rather long time."
"How long?" Harry asks in little more than a whisper.
Draco smirks. "Why do you think I was such an insufferable fuck to you all those years?" he asks. "You didn't have any pigtails to pull, so I tried to get you expelled and killed instead. I can't believe you didn't suss out my true intentions." His tone is self-deprecating enough, Harry could almost take his words as an apology. In fact, he does.
"Wow," he says, swallowing and processing the fact that Draco has actually fancied him, all these years.
Draco picks at his immaculate fingernails. "I'd rather you didn't spread that around," he says heavily. "But it's up to you. If you and your mates want to have a good old laugh at me, that's fine, I'll accept that."
"I don't think this is funny, Draco" Harry rasps, his heartbeat quickening. "And I'm not going to tell anyone either."
"Not even your little Weaslette girlfriend?" he asks, and Harry doesn't miss the hint of vulnerability behind the words.
He moves a step closer again, shaking his head. "Not my girlfriend," he states. "After everything, the war, Fred, we just...lost what we had."
"Okay," said Draco, brushing over his comments about Ginny a little too quickly. Was that hope on his face? "Well, thanks, I'd rather people didn't know. They already have enough reason to hate me, and if this was common knowledge, that a traitor like me had a crush on The Boy Who Lived..." he trails off, biting his lip. "That might just break me."
"I told you," Harry says. "You've been hurt enough." He rallies his courage and reaches his fingers out to brush over the Dark Mark again. Draco freezes and watches his hand intently.
"I don't want to play games, Harry," he says softly, a slight tremor in his voice.
Harry steps closer again. He's right in front of Draco now. "Me neither," he says, still caressing the textured skin. "I was taken by surprise the other night," he admits. "But...I've thought about it since. A lot."
"And what have you been thinking?" Draco asks.
"I wish I'd let you have your way."
He looks up, and waits for Draco to slowly raise his eyes and meet his. The two of them are still like that for what feels like an age. Draco's jaw is clamped, his breathing through his nose deep and shaky, his eyes wide with fear and anticipation. Harry tries to reign in his thumping heart, the blood in his ears is so loud it's deafening. He waits.
Eventually, Draco pushes himself away from the balcony edge, closer to Harry, his wrist still being loosely held in Harry's hand. He reaches out with his own free right hand, and traces feather light fingertips down the side of his face.
Harry's skin erupts in goose bumps, his whole body feels electric. He's spent the past few weeks day-dreaming himself silly at the idea of Draco touching him, and now he is. It's real. Draco gradually leans down, covering the distance between their faces inch by inch, painfully slowly until...
Harry breaks. He launches his mouth at Draco's, crashing their lips together and forcing his tongue in to meet the other boy's. He moans, sliding his hands up Draco's back, seizing him, moulding their bodies together as Draco runs his own hands through Harry's hair.
"Fuck," he gasps when they eventually pull apart for air. "Fuck, oh Merlin, fuck!" He studies Harry with disbelief. "You kissed me. You kissed me."
"Well you were being too slow," growls Harry hungrily, diving back in for another go. He is rock hard as they press against each other, and through the thin material of their trousers he can feel Draco is too. The friction of their cocks rubbing together is like nothing he's even experienced before, and a small part of the back of Harry's brain suggests maybe this was what had been missing from his flings with Ginny and Cho.
Draco suddenly stumbles backwards, pulling Harry with him back into the dimly lit common room, yanking him down on top of him as he falls into a sofa by the fire, its flames warming them deliciously as their bodies gyrate. "Ah," Harry cries out, overwhelmed, but Draco isn't done with him yet. His hand snakes between them and grabs Harry's cock, sucking the breath clean out of him and making him stutter and cough. Draco only graces him with a minute to recover before his lips are back attacking Harry's, kissing with such force it wipes all other thoughts clean from Harry's mind.
He realises Draco's hand shifts slightly, tugging at Harry's pyjama bottoms, getting his hand under the fabric and onto the taught skin of Harry's dick. "Oh Potter," Draco breathes in ecstasy. "What a lovely cock you have."
Harry may be two seconds away from losing his mind, but if Draco was going to get a good grope of him, he wants his fair turn too. He lifts himself up slightly to work his own hand in between them, delving straight under Draco's joggers, delighted to find that he's neglected to wear boxers.
His prick is slightly longer and slimmer than Harry's, it feels strange but good in his hand after years of only ever pleasuring himself. Draco's head drops back with a cry, and Harry strokes firmly, loving knowing that it's what he's doing to Draco is making his face look like that. He's delectable, lost in his revelry, and Harry wants more.
Draco knows what to do though, he's in charge, leading the way further than Harry has even gone with anyone else before. He pushes Harry off him and worms his way up the couch. "Blow me Harry," he hisses, angling his erection under Harry's face, running his hands through his hair. "Please, please I've wanted this, so long."
Harry thought he might have been more squeamish, but when presented with it, he wants nothing more than to swallow Draco's length down, to keep that incredible look of want on his face. The taste is salty but it's more the warmth that strikes Harry as he wraps his lips and tongue around the shaft, sliding down half way and pulling up again. He's not sure if he's doing it right, but Draco seems to be enjoying it, guiding him with the hand thrust into his hair, so he carries on until his jaw begins to lock.
Draco is obviously peaking, but he pulls away suddenly. "No, wait, hang on," he says, slipping down the sofa a bit as he pulls Harry up to meet him, kicking and pulling their trousers down further. Their groins meet and Harry gasps. No longer with clothes and the added slickness of their pre-cum and Harry's saliva, the sensation is mind-blowing. He kisses Draco with a fierce urgency, his own climax building easily. "I'm gonna," Draco grunts, digging his fingers into Harry's arms and bucking his body.
Harry speeds up, wanting to come at the same time, trying to keep his voice down when all he wants to do is scream. In no time at all he explodes internally, unleashing his orgasm all over Draco's t-shirt. But seeing as Draco's doing the exact same thing to him, he figures it's okay as he flops down on top of him, panting and grinning.
"Wow," he whispers, kissing Draco again, slower and more tender than before though. "Was that worth waiting for?"
Draco can't seem to focus. He blinks a few times before coming back to reality and grins at Harry, stroking his naked arse. "No," he says, and for a split-second Harry's stomach drops. "I can't believe we didn't do this earlier, we have got some serious work to catch up on."
Harry's insides pick themselves back up again and fizz with anticipation. "Does that mean you want to do this again?" he asks.
Draco arches an eyebrow. "Are you kidding?" he asks. "I'm pretty sure you're going to have a hard time keeping me off you Potter." He kisses Harry, slowly, luxuriously. "I've got you now. There's no escape."