Harry hadn't heard from Draco in a few days and was becoming increasingly anxious. He was beginning to worry Draco had misread the situation horribly— finding Harry in his bed, even if he had been fully clothed, he had looked mortified. Harry tried to take his mind off of things by spending his free time researching the books on wandlore that Mr Ollivander had lent him, but he struggled to concentrate, his thoughts returning to Draco time and time again.
He lay curled up on the living room couch when the whoosh of flames altered him to a fire call. He looked over his book and saw Draco's head suspended in green flames with a serious expression.
"Draco," Harry placed the book on the coffee table. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine," Draco replied flatly. "May I come over and speak to you?"
"Sure, come on over."
Harry tried to suppress his excitement and renewed anxiety. Draco didn't look happy. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and a moment later Draco appeared. Stepping out of the fireplace he brushed some soot off of his black shirt and suit trousers.
"You, uh, left these behind," said Draco meekly, holding out Harry's shoes.
"Oh." Harry took the shoes and set them on his lap. "Thanks."
There was an awkward silence.
"Uh, would you like a drink?" asked Harry.
"No, thank you. I have something to say and I'm going to spit it out before I lose the nerve to." Harry held his breath. Draco shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, staring at his feet. "I've been avoiding you these last few days because I'm embarrassed by my behaviour— in the field, and at the cottage. I just wanted to come here and apologise personally for how I behaved, and for anything I said or did that hurt your feelings or made you uncomfortable."
"Alright," said Harry.
Draco looked pained as he asked, "I don't remember very much after we got back to the cottage. We didn't...you know. Did we?"
Harry stared, then his eyes widened when he realised what Draco was asking. "Oh! No, no you went straight to sleep after we got home. I put you in bed and took off your shoes, you asked me to sit with you for a while and then you fell asleep. So did I, actually. I didn't mean to though. Sorry about that."
"Merlin, you're not the one who should be apologising," laughed Draco looking visibly relieved. Then he asked more seriously, "So we're...we're okay?"
Harry smiled. "We're fine, Draco. I was worried about you, but you were drunk and you were upset, we've all done it. I expect you'd do the same for me if I were in the same situation."
"Of course."
"Good," Harry smiled. "Now you owe me one next time I drink too much. Deal?"
Draco returned a small smile. "Deal." He glanced around the room with interest, "So this is the old Black house?"
"Yup," said Harry. "I haven't changed the décor too much."
"Evidently," muttered Draco while running a long, pale finger down a silver candelabra comprised of twisting snakes.
"It's more out of idleness than anything else," he admitted. "So, do you fancy that drink now? I was just about to put the kettle on."
"You don't have anything stronger, do you?" Draco chanced.
Harry and Draco spent the rest of the afternoon chatting about Harry's impromptu meeting with Ollivander and the opportunity to do a wandmaking apprenticeship with the old wizard. Draco was impressed.
"You'd be an idiot not to take it. The man's as mad as a hatter, but he knows his stuff. With a skill like that under your belt, you're set for life. Is he going to train you to take over the shop when he retires?"
"That's the plan, yeah," Harry taking a sip of beer. He had jokingly offered Draco a firewhisky, but he had declined. "Kingsley got in touch with me, too. Offered me a placement on the Auror programme."
"No surprise there," shrugged Draco picking at the label on his beer bottle. "Are you not interested in taking him up on the offer? There's a good future in it. You could end up Department Head in a few years, and you'd be a good shoo-in for Minister of Magic."
Harry looked aghast and Draco laughed. "I'm joking. Merlin, you should see your face. I know you'd hate that. Fuck Kingsley, take the apprenticeship."
"I'll do the latter, thanks," smirked Harry then his eyes lit up. "Christ, I almost forgot!"
Draco frowned as Harry suddenly leapt to his feet. "What is it?"
"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute," said Harry excitedly. "Actually, close your eyes and hold out your hands."
Curious, Draco sat his beer on the coffee table and obeyed the instruction. "This better be worth my while, I look ridiculous sitting like this!"
"Malfoy?" said a familiar voice. Draco's eyes flew open and he saw Ron Weasley's head staring at him through the fireplace. Draco quickly dropped his hands and his smile.
"Weasley," he nodded.
Ron kept staring at him. "What are you doing in Harry's living room?"
Before Draco could answer Harry marched back into the room with something hidden behind his back. "I knew you couldn't keep your eyes shut! You're hopeless!"
"Alright, mate," Ron greeted him.
"Ron! Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What's up?" he asked, slipping the present out of view behind the settee.
Ron looked at him curiously and said slowly, "I was wondering if you were free for a drink and a catch-up with me and Hermione tonight, but I see you've already got company, so..."
"Uh yeah, I'm actually busy at the moment. I'll catch up with you guys later. I'll send you an owl," Harry said lightly, waving him off. "Tell Hermione that I was asking for her."
Ron glanced between Draco and Harry again, smirked, and then disappeared.
"You don't have to do that," said Draco. "Send him away because I'm here. If you'd rather spend time with them I'll just go."
"What? No!" said Harry, stepping forward. "I asked you to stay because I want you to. Besides, I still haven't given you your birthday present." He bent behind the couch to retrieve the package. "Go on. Close your eyes."
Draco smiled and closed his eyes again, his hands outstretched before him. A moment later he felt something hard and smooth placed into his hands and he gasped— he knew what it was by touch alone. He opened his eyes and stared in disbelief at the brand-new Nimbus 2001 broomstick in his hands.
"Harry," Draco breathed. "This is too much."
"It's nothing," said Harry beaming.
"This isn't nothing," said Draco sharply still holding the broomstick in outstretched hands. "This is so expensive."
"I can afford it," he shrugged. "Besides, I had an ulterior motive for buying it. I've been desperate to play Quidditch with you again, now you've got no excuse to turn me down."
Draco's chest felt tight. He turned the broomstick over in his hands, inspecting it closely. It was identical to the old one his father had bought him in school. Thinking about his father made his heart pang a little.
"I know you miss your old one," said Harry. "I thought about buying you a Firebolt, but I dunno...I thought you'd want the same one. So... is it okay?"
"It's perfect," said Draco and Harry's emerald eyes shone.
For dinner, Harry took Draco out to a local Chinese restaurant near his house. Draco was still getting used to the anonymity of Muggle London, but he was enjoying it nonetheless.
"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said and Harry paused eating to listen. "I need to collect my father's remains from Azkaban. My mother's coming home for the funeral. Well, if there will even be a funeral."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"My father's will stipulates that he is to be interred in the Malfoy family crypt, which is on the estate of Malfoy Manor," he explained. "I've tried writing to the Ministry about the matter, explaining it was my father's dying wish to be buried with his ancestors, but as the estate no longer belongs to my mother and me, the Ministry has been less than forthcoming in our request."
Harry's eyes widened. "They won't let you have the funeral there?"
"It seems not," said Draco quietly. "I'd never ask this of you unless I had no other choice, and I've exhausted all my other options."
Draco looked extremely uncomfortable, but he pressed on. "I know you are on good terms with people in the Ministry— Kingsley, the Weasleys —would you be able to have a word with them about it? Perhaps persuade them to make an exception in this case?"
"Of course," said Harry firmly. "I'll see what I can do."
Draco looked visibly relieved but still a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Harry. Even if nothing comes of it, I appreciate it nonetheless. My mother will appreciate it most of all."
"Anything I can do to help," said Harry, and he meant it.
Lucius Malfoy may have been despicable in life, but he deserved to be treated with the same dignity as anyone else in death. Draco's breath hitched. Harry looked down and realised he had unconsciously grabbed Draco's hand into his own. Harry quickly moved his hand away and took a swig of his beer. Draco said nothing. Once they had finished dinner and had returned to Grimmauld Place, Harry got them another beer and leant against the kitchen counter.
"When are you going to Azkaban?" he asked.
Draco took a swig of his drink before answering. "They're holding onto his body for the time being until I can get funeral arrangements in place. So it all depends on how you get on with the Ministry."
Harry nodded. "Okay. Well if you're going to Azkaban you'll need to try and learn how to produce a Patronus, even if it's an incorporeal one. You'll need something to shield yourself from the effects of the Dementors."
Draco glared at him. "Persistent bugger, aren't you?"
Harry grinned. "Thanks. Come on, just give it a go. You're not going to get it on your first attempt, that's nigh on impossible. But I'm certain that with a little coaching, I'll have you producing an incorporeal shield by the end of the night."
"Want a bet?" smirked Draco, and Harry's eyes glinted mischievously.
"Alright, you're on," he said taking another gulp of beer.
Draco frowned. "I was being sarcastic."
"I know, but it'll be fun! Okay, if I win, you have to..." Harry thought for a moment before laughing to himself and declaring, "You have to sing for me."
"Sing?" Draco balked. "I can't sing."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both," said Draco.
"Well you get to pick my forfeit if I lose," Harry offered. "What's my punishment for failure?"
"My my, you are a brave little Gryffindor," Draco teased, crossing his arms. "Giving me free rein to pick your punishment. Very well..." He paced the kitchen back and forth, deep in thought, before turning on his heel to face Harry with a wicked grin on his face. "If you lose – which you most certainly will – you have to dance for me."
Harry's smile fell. "What?"
"Yes, you must dance for me," Draco's eyes glinted darkly. "For my amusement, for as long as I see fit. And I get to pick the music."
"I don't dance," Harry stated.
"I know," said Draco. "And I don't sing. But this is the predicament you have put us in. Do you agree to the terms?"
Draco held out his hand, and Harry shook it determinedly.
"Agreed," said Harry. "But you have to actually try, Draco, don't fluff this on purpose just to see me humiliate myself."
"I would never do such a thing," said Draco with mock innocence.
They stood out in the enclosed garden of Grimmauld Place, facing three tall stone walls covered in ivy and a clear night sky. Harry paced in front of Draco like a general commanding his army. Draco was struggling to keep his face straight and Harry tapped him hard on the arm with his wand.
"Concentrate," he snapped, but his tone was playful. "Now, can you tell me what a Patronus is?"
"Merlin," murmured Draco, rolling his eyes.
Harry stopped pacing. "Come on, Draco, you said you'd try."
"Fine," he sighed. "A Patronus is a defensive charm. It is the primary protection against Dementors and Lethifolds."
Harry nodded. "Very good. Ten points to Slytherin."
Draco sniggered.
"A Patronus is a pure, protective magical concentration of happiness and hope," Harry explained. "The recollection of a single talisman memory is essential in its creation. The incorporeal Patronus is not a true Patronus, but it will provide limited protection to its caster. That's what we're going to be focusing on achieving this evening."
"Yes sir," drawled Draco.
Harry felt a shiver up his spine at the sultry note in Draco's voice, then shook his head clear. He knew Draco was only teasing him.
"The incantation is Expecto Patronum ," Harry continued. "The incantation will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory."
"Okay." Draco drew his wand.
"Do you have a happy memory?" asked Harry.
Draco thought for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was the day he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. He was so excited about making new friends and learning magic. Draco nodded, focussing hard on the memory.
"Okay," said Harry. "Concentrate. Repeat the incantation."
Draco raised his wand and called out, " Expecto Patronum !"
Nothing happened.
"Well that was to be expected," Harry assured him, looking unfazed. "Can I ask what you what your memory was?"
"The day I got my acceptance letter."
Harry's eyes sparkled. "When Remus was teaching me how to perform the Patronus charm, that was my first happy memory, too. It's a good memory, but it's not going to cut it for this spell, you need to focus on something much stronger than that. Perhaps you should think of a person instead? Someone that you love."
"Alright." Draco searched his memories and recalled one of the many times his mother had sung one of her lullabies to him. It had made him feel warm and safe. Draco raised his wand again, focusing on the details of the memory as clearly as he could.
" Expecto Patronum !"
Again, nothing happened. Draco growled in frustration. "I told you this wasn't going to work."
"We've only just started," said Harry patiently. "Try again."
Draco tried again and again but to no effect. He tried different memories, but nothing worked. After yet another failure he kicked the brick wall in frustration.
"Again," Harry pressed, unperturbed by yet another failure.
Draco was losing his patience, but his desperation to succeed pushed him to keep trying. He took a steadying breath and searched his memories. He remembered his first Christmas home from Hogwarts, and how proud his father had been that he had been sorted into Slytherin. His father's face had beamed with pride and it had made Draco's heart swell. It wasn't very often his father looked at him like that. His heart started to ache a little at the memory of his father, but still, it was a happy thought of sorts. He didn't have that many to pick from, so it would have to do.
" Expecto Patronum !" he shouted and wispy smoke spat from the end of his wand, flickered and died.
"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration.
Harry clapped his hands together and smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere."
"Are you serious?" said Draco incredulously. "That was shit!"
"It was a start," Harry corrected him then asked, "What were you thinking about?"
Draco hesitated before admitting, "I was thinking about my father. I know that sounds stupid."
"No, it doesn't," said Harry gently. "Thinking about someone you love evokes a powerful reaction and that's what we're looking for, but your feelings are conflicted— your happy memory is tinged with grief. That's why it's not working properly."
"It won't work because I can't fucking do it," Draco snarled before throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fuck it. I can't do it. It can't be done. Let's go back in the house, you owe me a dance."
"If you've already convinced yourself it's not going to work then it won't work," Harry rebuked.
"I know it won't!" shouted Draco.
"Look, I had the same difficulties when I was training to produce the Patronus," Harry confided. He leaned against the wall, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and stared at his feet. "You know what Dementors do, don't you? They make you relive the worst experiences of your life,"
"I know that," Draco muttered indignantly. "I'm not an idiot."
Harry hesitated before continuing, "Not many people know this, but when Dementors get too close to me, I can hear Voldemort murder my parents. I can hear my father telling my mother to grab me and run. I can hear my mother pleading for my life, and her screaming as she..."
Harry's voice trailed off. Draco felt an unpleasant chill pass over him as if a ghost had walked through him.
"So you see why Dementors affect me so much," Harry continued matter-of-factly. "That's why I began training to learn the Patronus charm in the first place. But it took me a long time to produce a corporeal Patronus. It took a lot of hard work and practice, but something kept holding me back. The thing is, a small part of me wanted to hear them. I can't remember anything else about my parents, I was so young when they died and being able to hear them, even if it was their final moments, in some way made me happy. But memories like that are too painful to produce a true Patronus. It needs to be something pure and untainted. Do you understand?"
Draco nodded. Harry pushed himself off of the wall and stood in front of Draco.
"Let's try something else," said Harry and took Draco's wand out of his hand.
"What are you doing?" asked Draco.
"I'll give it back to you in a minute," Harry assured him before pocketing it. "For now, I want you to close your eyes." Draco frowned but followed Harry's instructions. "Try and relax. Stop frowning."
"It's difficult not to when you're bossing me about," complained Draco.
"Shh." Harry hushed Draco and gently rested his hands on Draco's arms. Draco stiffened at the sudden contact and his heart began to race. "Just relax. Listen. The only thing I want you to focus on now is your breathing. Follow each breath as it goes in and out. Try to focus all your attention on the sensations of air as it enters your nose, then goes down your throat, filling your lungs, and then out through your nose again. Pay close attention to the natural rhythm as you follow your breath, in and out, in and out..."
Draco did as he was told, taking deep breaths in and out, in and out, and felt the tension in his body begin to ease.
"Good," said Harry softly. "Now, I want you to listen. Listen to the beat of the heart in your chest, listen to it pump blood all around your body. Hear the wind rustling through the leaves, listen to my voice, and keep breathing in and out. Listen to the natural rhythm of everything around you and you'll begin to sync your natural rhythm to it. In and out, in and out..."
Draco could feel his heartbeat thrum in rhythm with his breaths, slow and steady. All he could hear was Harry's voice, low and gravelly. It was filling him up, occupying every space in his mind and body. Harry's lips moved closer to Draco's ear.
"Now I want you to feel." His voice was deep and sultry, his hot breath licking against Draco's skin causing it to erupt in goosebumps. Draco kept his eyes closed and concentrated on trying to control his breathing. "I want you to feel the wind against your skin like a breath. Feel the coolness of the air against your flesh. Feel your magic coursing through you like electricity. Can you feel it?"
"Yes," whispered Draco breathlessly. "I can feel it."
"Good," said Harry. His voice was hoarse and he was gripping Draco's arms tightly. "Now, I want you to see. Imagine a white light, it's so bright, so all-encompassing it fills you up. Light is shooting out of the tips of your fingers and toes. It's shining out of the ends of your hair like a halo. It's warm, comforting. You see it?"
"Yes," breathed Draco.
"Now," Harry slipped Draco's wand back into his hand. "Repeat the incantation."
" Expecto Patronum, " murmured Draco. A mass of silvery vapour erupted from Draco's wand, enveloping him and Harry in a protective shield. His eyes flew open and he laughed, "I don't believe it!"
"Believe it," said Harry beaming.
The shield held for at least a minute before it flickered and died. Draco was still smiling.
"How did you do that?" asked Draco.
"Meditation isn't clearing the mind; it's focusing on one thing," Harry said before shrugging. "You were focusing on too many things at once, it's something that I'm prone to doing. I just helped to clear your mind so you could focus better."
Draco smiled. "You're an excellent teacher, Mr Potter."
"And you're an awkward student. But you're a quick learner, as I knew you would be."
Draco's smile faltered, "Eh, we weren't serious about the forfeits were we?"
"Deadly," said Harry.
It took a few extra beers for Draco to work up the courage to sing in front of Harry. While Harry lay sprawled across the couch in the living room, Draco stood awkwardly in front of the fireplace, taking another swig of his beer for prosperity. His head was feeling warm and fuzzy now, and singing seemed less of a terrible idea than it did earlier.
"Can I get some music to sing to?" he asked.
"Sure," Harry clambered to his feet and bounced over to the gramophone. "I've got loads of old records here. Most of them belonged to Sirius, so hopefully you're a fan of British prog rock."
"I have absolutely no idea what a British prog rock is and I have no desire to find out," declared Draco, downing the rest of his beer in two large gulps. "I'm getting another drink. Want one?"
"Oh no, you don't," Harry waved his wand in the direction of the kitchen and summoned two fresh beers. "I'm not letting you slip out the front door and escape your debt."
He handed the drink to Draco before flopping back down onto the couch. "Sing for me Draco! For my amusement, for as long as I see fit."
Draco threw his head back dramatically and sighed. "Fine! Just don't laugh."
"I won't!" Harry promised. Draco looked sceptical, but cleared his throat and began to sing a slow, sorrowful melody that he recalled his mother used to sing when he was a child:
"I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love.
And so I said the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early
While soft winds shook the barley."
Draco's voice caressed the words, his husky accent warm and reverberating around the room and across Harry's skin. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sound of Draco's voice wash over him like a warm bath. He felt light-headed with a combination of too much beer and too much Draco. He was filling him up with his sound and now it was spilling over the edges. Harry was happily drowning in the sultry sound of Draco's voice.
Then the music stopped.
"Are you sleeping during my performance?" snapped Draco.
Harry's eyes flew open.
"No!" he protested sitting up too quickly and spilling beer all down the front of his t-shirt. "No, it was really good! I closed my eyes because I was enjoying it."
"A likely story," glared Draco, crossing his arms. "I'm afraid there's only one way to rectify this slight against me."
"No," said Harry flatly.
"Yes!" Draco pulled a reluctant Harry to his feet. "And I get to pick the music!"
"Bloody hell," Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair, making it stick out in all directions.
Draco averted his gaze from the delectable sight and grabbed a handful of records from the shelf. "Let's see what we have here— David Bowie, Pink Floyd, Rush...what's this?"
Draco pulled out a record that looked completely out of place from the rest. Someone had scrawled a note over the man's face in gold ink:
Happy birthday S,
Got this so every time you listen it reminds you of me.
M xxx
Curiosity piqued, he slipped the record from its sleeve and placed it into the gramophone. The record crackled for a moment, then the drumbeat kicked in. Harry's face immediately burned red with recognition. He knew the song and he did not want to dance to it. A sultry bass-baritone voice began to speak the lyrics and it was like he was whispering in Harry's ear:
"It feels so good
You lying here next to me
Oh, what a groove
You have no idea how it feels
My hands just won't keep still
I love you, baby
Oh, I love you, I love you, I love you"
"Come on Harry, get to it!" Draco sat in the centre of the couch with his arms stretched out along the top of the sofa. "I wait with bated breath."
Harry stood awkwardly, his body unwilling to move. Tentatively he began to dance, his elbows locked in place, jerkily swaying from side to side. He felt stiff, and he knew he looked ridiculous. He sighed and crossed his arms across his chest.
"I can't do this," he declared.
"Come on," egged Draco. "I did my forfeit, now you have to do yours, it's only fair. Unless you're scared?"
"I'm not scared!" Harry protested.
"Then prove it."
Harry was sorely tempted to turn tail and run out of the house. Instead, he puffed out a hard breath and rolled his head and wrists in a circular motion like an athlete ready to start the race of his life. He might be bad at dancing but he was no coward.
"Okay," he sighed closing his eyes. "Can you start the music again?"
Draco's smirk broadened. "Certainly."
He clicked his fingers and the record restarted. The drumbeat kicked in again, the music pulsing through the room. Harry focused on the rhythm of the song, imagining the words were dancing across his skin making his body move like the music was a part of him. Bending his knees slightly, Harry began to swing his hips from side to side, his hands resting on his firm thighs as he swayed. He allowed his body to relax a little more, letting his head loll from side to side like grass in a breeze and he began to sway his hips in a wide, circular motion, rolling them from side to side, slowly, sensually. Draco sat up attentively on the couch, grinning like an idiot. This was more like it.
There was no tension in Harry's face, his wet lips were slightly parted in a soft pout, the edges of his mouth just barely upturned. He looked like he was actually beginning to enjoy this. He ran his hands through his hair, not the rough swipe he usually did when he was nervous or frustrated. No, this time he did it slowly, fingers parted letting his long, black hair snake between his fingers and fall down over his face giving him that just-shagged look. He opened his eyes a fraction and looked at Draco. His emerald eyes were dark, sultry, teasing. He gave an audible sigh of pleasure, and Draco felt his skin erupt in goosebumps, blossoming from the centre of his chest and through his arms, hardening his nipples. Turns out Harry was quite a good dancer, after all.
Harry didn't stop there. He ran the palms of his hands along the sides of his body, accentuating the movement of his hips as he danced. He began to roll his hips back and forth in a slow, deliberate thrusting motion, running his splayed fingers down his chest, lower and lower towards his groin, his intent gaze fixed on Draco all the while. Draco's grin faltered and his eyes widened. Harry bit his lip and smiled.
Good, this is what you get for trying to humiliate me, you git , he thought.
But then Harry realised that he wanted Draco to enjoy it. Lost to the music, he could feel the bass pulsing through his body. He moved incrementally closer to Draco, his hip movements fluid and easy, and brushed his legs against Draco's knees. Draco didn't move away, so Harry bent down and rested his hands on Draco's knees. Draco swallowed hard but didn't protest. Harry slowly began to slide his hands up Draco's thighs, stopping near his groin. Draco unconsciously opened his legs wider, like an open invitation to continue. Harry, throwing caution to the wind, straddled Draco's lap, lacing his fingers through Draco's silky soft hair. Draco's eyes were dark now, half-lidded, full of want. He gripped Harry's slim hips tightly, and Harry rolled his hips again, this time their erections grazed together and both of them gasped. Harry began grinding their crotches together more intently, Draco lifting his hips up to increase the intensity of the contact.
Draco leaned in, his blood thrilling with nerves and desire. Everything seemed to hang in the air the moment before their lips touched. When they finally closed the distance between them, Harry lost the ability to form any tangible thoughts. Draco's lips were softer than he'd expected them to be, and he tasted sweet, but he was sure it wasn't the beer, it was something uniquely Draco. Harry sighed into the kiss, opening his mouth a little more in invitation and Draco's soft, silken tongue traced along Harry's bottom lip, sending a shiver down his spine. The fluttering in his chest subsided, replaced by a new sensation, a deep craving for more.
The scent of Draco's skin, citrus and cut grass, was all around him. Perhaps it was another effect of being out in the countryside, but Harry thought he smelled mouthwatering. Their kiss continued after the song had faded out and finished. When Harry finally broke the searing kiss his eyes flew open. He was suddenly very self-aware about what he was doing and who he was doing it with. The spell was broken.
"Sorry," he murmured apologetically. "Got a bit carried away."
It took Draco's brain a couple of seconds to process what Harry was saying before mumbling, "Uh, yeah. It's fine."
Harry quickly climbed off of Draco's lap, walked over to the record player and switched it off. He was avoiding looking in Draco's direction. Iit seemed that he was having regrets about their kiss.
"Look, we've had a few too many drinks and that Barry White bloke is very persuasive. We just got carried away, that's all," Draco assured him. "No harm done."
Harry looked at Draco hard for a moment then nodded. "Yeah. No harm done."
Draco got to his feet. "I'm feeling pretty tired, I better head home. Thanks for the beer and dinner."
"Sure," said Harry. As Draco stepped towards the fireplace, he rushed, "You know it's really late, and you probably shouldn't travel with all that alcohol in your system. You might splinch yourself or end up in someone else's fireplace. You can crash here tonight if you want. I've got loads of room."
"I don't want to be in the way."
Harry laughed. "This house is huge and there's only me in it. You can pick any guest room that you like."
Harry lead Draco upstairs. Once they reached the top landing Harry pointed to a door on his right, "Bathroom's here. These are all guest rooms. This is my room."
He leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom and Draco's stomach did a somersault. They looked at each other for a moment before Draco pointed to the guest room next to Harry's.
"I'll take this one."
Harry smiled. "That's a nice one. The mirror's a bit chatty, but if you put a cloth over him, he usually goes to sleep pretty quickly."
Draco chuckled. "Thanks for the tip. I suppose I'll see you in the morning."
"Yeah," Harry opened the door to his bedroom, lingering a moment longer before closing the door. "Sweet dreams."
***
Draco stripped into his boxers and lay in bed staring up at the black ceiling.
"Can't sleep?" came a sleepy voice.
"No," he sighed, sitting up on his elbows and looking at the ornate mirror on the opposite wall. "I've got too much on my mind."
"Well, not that it's any of my business, but the master of the house is restless as well." The mirror informed him. "Perhaps you would get a better night's sleep in his room instead?"
Draco picked up his discarded shirt and tossed it at the mirror. "No more of your advice is necessary, thank you."
"Rude," muttered the mirror.
Within a few minutes it was gently snoring. Draco meanwhile had taken to pacing the room back and forth, his mind racing. That was no drunken kiss. That was something else. Wasn't it? He groaned and flopped down on the bed again, his frustration quickly turning to anger. What the fuck was Harry playing at? Teasing was one thing, but this...this was something else entirely. Harry was messing with his head, and for what? So he could win a stupid bet? Draco snarled and jumped back onto his feet again. Screw this. They needed to talk. Now.
Draco strode out of the bedroom and into the hall, raising his fist to bang on Harry's door, fully indending to keep banging said door until Harry answered. His fist made contact with the door only once when it suddenly flew open. Harry stood there in just his boxers and fuck he looks gorgeous , thought Draco. They stared at each other wide-eyed for a moment.
"I, uh..." said Draco. "Came to..."
What had he come here to do exactly? He'd forgotten entirely. Harry licked his lips hungrily, naked need shining in his eyes. He raised his hand and cupped Draco's cheek. His hand was so warm and soft, Draco felt his eyes droop as he leant into Harry's touch. Harry ran a thumb over Draco's pouty lips and Draco's heart began to batter like a drum in his chest.
Harry felt like his body was moving separately from his brain. He could see himself leaning forward, pressing his lips against Draco's and to his surprise, Draco's eyes began to close and he deepened the kiss. Harry tried to avoid this, he really had. His life didn't need any more complications, but he thought perhaps in the end he never really had a choice. After all, he seldom does.
Draco's body seemed to be on autopilot all of a sudden as he felt himself step further into the bedroom and kick the door shut with his heel. Harry moved forward then, gently pushing Draco against the door and moving their bodies closer together. Their lips ghosted over each other, breathing hot, shallow breaths into each other's mouths. It was tentative and nervous at first, then Draco cupped Harry's cheeks in his hands and kissed him hard. They were both gasping into the kiss now, tongues exploring each other's mouths, every nerve in their bodies erupting upon contact.
Harry ran a free hand through Draco's blond locks, normally so tidy, now falling into his face giving the appearance of a beautifully debauched angel, one which Harry was desperate to see fall apart at the seams. He felt something inside him ache with a longing he hadn't realised had been there for a very long time. They stumbled backwards towards the bed, neither willing to break contact. Harry's legs hit the bed and he fell backwards and Draco pounced on top of him like a wild cat, kissing him hard on the mouth.
Draco's hand slid up the inside of Harry's thigh and Harry moaned into his mouth even before contact had been made. He'd never been so hard in his life. Draco's hand stroked Harry's throbbing cock through his boxers and Harry threw his head back at the intensity of the pleasure. Draco continued to rub Harry all the while peppering his neck and chest with kisses. Harry was fisting Malfoy's hair tightly, trying to hold off coming for as long as he could, but he wouldn't last much longer. Draco seemed to sense this, so he peeled Harry's boxers off completely and cast them aside, his eyes fixed on Harry's cock with an intensity that made Harry lightheaded.
"Fuck," breathed Draco, licking his lips.
He looked at Harry seeking permission, and Harry nodded eagerly. Draco ran his long, slender fingers across Harry's cock, flushed a dark pink with a pearl of pre-cum blossoming from the tip. Draco gripped Harry at the base of his cock and Harry couldn't help the low, guttural moan that escaped his lips. His cock was so hard, pulsing with heat and life, and Draco tentatively slid his hand along the shaft, jerking it once, twice. Harry made a low, desperate noise and Draco felt shivers of excitement race through him like an electric current. It was incredible. Harry was incredible. Harry began to thrust into Draco's hand and he gritted his teeth, trying not to moan at the pure pleasure, sparking hot and bright.
"Don't hold back," Draco pressed his forehead against Harry's. "I want to hear you enjoying yourself. Just let go."
The rawness in Draco's voice... Harry would have done anything for him then— jumped off a cliff, swam the English Channel, let go, moan...
"Yes. Yessss ."
Finally, for the first time in his life, Harry let go, relinquishing all control of himself, surrendering himself to just feeling. It was a sexual metamorphosis, blossoming from the centre of his chest and quickly spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes, he felt like he was turning upside down and inside out, leaving the shell of his old self behind. He was being honest for the first time in his life and giving in to what he really wanted. He wanted Draco, and he'd wanted him for so long, longer than he cared to admit. He wanted to do this and feel like this forever and ever.
Harry's hand snaked between them and roughly pulled Draco's boxers down to his thighs before he grasped Draco's cock. Draco groaned, "Fuck yes," and they began pumping each other to the same rhythm. Harry had never done this before and was operating purely on instinct, but he felt like he was rather good at working on instinct – it had served him well the first time he'd flown a broomstick, so doing this would be no different. This felt a lot like the first time he'd flown a broomstick— nerve-wracking, exhilarating, addictive —it should have come as no surprise to Harry that Draco should be involved in this too.
Draco's hair was falling all over his face and tickling Harry's lips and God, Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and so fuckable in his life. Draco gasped and began thrusting his cock into Harry's hand harder and faster. Harry released Draco's throbbing cock and Draco growled in displeasure, but Harry responded by pinning Draco to the bed. He lowered his hips so that their cocks brushed together and Draco grabbed Harry's hips tight to pull them closer together, pressing up, held down, the delicious friction rubbing against their aching lengths. Now Draco growled with pleasure as their pricks slid against one another, hot and slippery in the perfect press of their bodies. Harry moved like that, slow and deliberate, his brilliant emerald eyes smoky in the dim light and his splayed fingers gently caressing Draco's hair. Their pace quickened, and their breathing became more ragged as they panted and rutted and moaned in unison. They were so lost in the spiral of moans and thrusts and feelings that they might break apart with the pure dazzling pleasure of it all.
Then Harry made a harsh sound, his mouth fell open and his head tipped right back, and he was gasping and bucking his hips and—
"Oh fuck!"
The look on Harry's face, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth slack and gasping for air, the look of sheer ecstasy washing over him, was Draco's undoing. With a long, devastating moan, Draco was unravelling at the seams, the powerful orgasm washing over him in a great tidal wave he'd gladly drown in. As their orgasms subsided, they collapsed flat on their backs, still panting hard.
"Got a bit carried away again," Harry laughed breathlessly. Draco gave a tired laugh and kissed Harry's shoulder.
"What now?" he asked, the euphoric feeling already ebbing away and being replaced by the same uncertainties and fears that plagued him.
"Sleep," murmured Draco as he struggled to pull the tangled bedsheets over the two of them.
The effort of doing so was exhausting and sleep took him quickly. Harry lay there listening to Draco's steady breaths, thinking they rolled and swelled and fell again like waves. It was a comforting sound, one that Harry could get used to listening to more often...but he didn't want to think about that now. He didn't know what Draco wanted beyond what they'd had tonight, and he didn't dare hope for anything more. For a short while at least, the only thing that existed in the world was him and Draco; two lost souls who found themselves stumbling into bed and forgetting all the shit outside the bedroom door. For now, he was just happy where he was, and for the first night in as long as Harry could remember, he was free from nightmares.