When Draco wakes up, Potter’s arm is slung around him and his chest is pressed up against Draco’s back. He feels content for a second before he remembers that this is Potter. He’s in Potter’s bed once again, in Potter’s apartment. When they started fucking, almost three years ago, they made rules. One of those rules was that the one who came over to the other’s place was to leave afterwards. No need to sleep in the same bed after the deed was done.
But they’ve been slacking off the rules lately, especially Draco. Which is stupid, he was the one who wanted strict rules in the first place. Draco needs to leave, take the floo to his own apartment, get ready for work. Except it’s a Saturday. No work, then, but he still needs to get out of Potter’s flat. He carefully lifts Potter’s arm and untangles himself, hoping not to wake the gorgeous man up. Of course, he fails, and Potter stirs.
“Mhnm..” Potter grunts and then throws his arm back around Draco, tugging him impossibly close, closer than is good for Draco’s heart. “Stay” he murmurs into Draco’s ear, his hot breath sending tremors down Draco’s spine. It’s tempting. Very tempting. Too tempting. He needs to get the fuck out.
“I have plans, Potter.” He lies and throws Potters arm off him, not too gently. His bare feet touch the cold wooden floor and he shivers.
“Oh, what plans?” Potter asks, and Draco isn’t sure if he’s calling him out on his obvious lie or if he truly wants to know. He scans the room for his clothing that Potter had ripped off of him last night. His shirt is on the floor and his underpants are flung on the lamp on the dresser.
“I have a date.” Brilliant fucking lie, Draco. Why would you say that you stupid fucker? he thinks to himself and walks over to pick the underpants up and puts them on.
“Oh” this time Potter sounds deflated, but that’s only Draco’s hopeful imagination, so he shrugs it off. “Is it anyone I know?”
Draco turns as he’s buttoning his shirt, scanning for his trousers. Potter is laying on his side, resting his head in his palm, his elbow holding him up. His hair is a mess, but when isn’t it? It stands up in the back, and Draco knows he made it that way when he pulled on fistfuls of hair as Potter pounded into him last night. The memory makes Draco pause, his brain focusing on the way Potter felt against him and the feeling of Potter’s stupid hair between his fingers. When he re-emerges from the memory, he meets Potter's expectant gaze and realizes that Potter asked him a question.
“No. Someone I met through work.” Okay, now leave Draco, don’t dig yourself a deeper grave, just get out. He spots his trousers in the opposite corner of the room, forcing him to go around the bed to Potter’s side to get them.
“Do you have to throw my clothes in different directions every time, Potter?” He complains, and Potter throws him a million-watt smile that makes his knees go weak.
“Well, it gives me the pleasure of watching you go around half-naked collecting it.” He laughs, and Draco blushes, curse his pale skin.
“Screw you, Potter. I’m leaving.” He buttons his trousers and stomps out of Potter’s room and to the fireplace. Before he calls out the address of his own apartment, while throwing the floo powder into the fireplace, he hears Potter calls after him.
“See you, Malfoy.” See you, as in let’s fuck again. Potter doesn’t believe he’s going on a date, or if he does, he’s sure it won’t last.
“Fuck you, Potter” Draco mumbles, even though he knows Potter is right. He’ll always come back to get fucked into the mattress by the Boy-who-lived, as long as said man will have him.
***
It’s Sunday night, and Draco is sitting in the kitchen, looking over some papers for work. Work as a Healer isn’t only practical, there’s paperwork. Luckily, paperwork is easy to take home, a perfect distraction from his unfortunate situation with Potter.
When they first started having sex, Draco knew it was a bad idea. He had been infatuated with Potter in school, and then when they ran into each other at the pub, he was hit with how much he wanted to devour the man. But when Potter kissed him, a little drunk, Draco a little tipsy, and pushed Draco against the wall, ravishing his lips and neck, Draco thought he could have casual sex with Potter. Just a one-time thing, get it out of your system, and then move on.
“Fuck me, Potter” he’d gasped into the taller man’s ear and he’d felt Potter smile against his neck. A second later, Potter had had his wand out and was apparating them straight into his bedroom.
When Draco had woken up the next morning he’d slipped out before Potter could stir, and he’d known he couldn’t have casual sex, not with Harry Potter. Then Potter’s owl had come, Potter’s letter asking if maybe they could do something like that again, and Draco had given in. He’d made clear rules so that he wouldn’t get attached, they were fuckbuddies, not a couple, not friends, not anything. No strings, only sex. No feelings. Great plan, Draco. Worked like a dream... not.
As Draco’s distracting himself with paperwork, he hears the floo network swoosh to life, and he steels himself.
“Malfoy!” He hears Potter’s voice, and it sounds like he’s drunk. He is drunk. He comes stumbling into the kitchen, spotting Malfoy at the table, and then he’s grinning, a foolish, dazzling smile.
“Malfoy, let me fuck you?” The words aren’t a question, but the tone is.
“Good evening to you too, Potter. No, you cannot fuck me.” Draco sighs, and puts down his parchment.
“Why not, Malfoy?” Potter whines and Draco almost smile at how much he sounds like a needy child. “Is it because you have a boyfriend now? Is he better than me, Malfoy?” He gets closer to Draco as he speaks, stopping just in front of the chair where Draco is sat, towering over him.
“No, you git. It’s because you’re drunk. Why are you even drinking on a Sunday night?” Draco stands up from the chair and makes Potter sit down instead. He’s getting Potter some water and then sending him home.
“You’re leaving me for some prat at work. Why wouldn’t I drink?” Potter mutters, slurring his words a bit. The warm feeling that settles in the pit of Draco’s stomach is all kinds of wrong, but he can’t help it. Potter has gotten drunk due to being upset because he thinks Draco had gone on a date. He decides it’s the best lie he’s ever told, maybe excluding the one at the Manor, when he’d lied that he didn’t know if it was Potter or not. Excluding that lie, this was absolutely his best lie ever.
“I’m not dating anyone; it was a lousy date anyway,” Draco says as he hands Potter a tall glass of water. The smile that spreads on Potter's face lights up his whole face and makes him look simply captivating. As Potter sips his water Draco feels the hope awaken in him, not for the first time. There’s no chance that Potter likes him back, but moments like this make Draco hope despite that knowledge. And that hope is what’s going to crush him in the end.
“Come on, let’s get you home, Potter.” He says, pressing down the hope and helping the swaying Potter to his feet.
“No, I wanna stay here. Let me sleep with you, Malfoy.” Potter slurs; his breath heavy with the smell of firewhiskey.
“I told you, Potter. I’m not having sex with you. You’re drunk.”
“No, I didn’t mean- I meant sleep as in sleep, Malfoy. Let me sleep with you, please.” This is not a good idea. He and Potter are strictly just sex, nothing else. Draco can’t afford to let Potter come that close to him in any other way. His heart won’t be able to take it.
“Still no, Potter. Unlike you. I have a job that actually requires me to show up in the mornings. Now let me go to sleep, and I’ll see you on Friday.” This is better. Make it clear that this relationship was only about the sex, and maybe you can convince yourself, Draco.
“Fine” he can feel Potter retract into himself. Maybe it was the wrong decision after all, but no, he can’t afford anything else. Potter might be okay slipping into the friendly area, but to Draco that would just mean more futile hopes to push down.
***
Potter is behaving differently. Draco had gotten an owl the following morning with an apology for showing up drunk at Draco’s place and bothering him. He’d also written that he had plans with Weasley and Granger on Friday, which might not seem suspicious, but when you’ve been fucking someone every Friday without fail for almost three years, it’s fucking strange when you suddenly have plans.
Potter’s different in other ways too. When he and Zacharias Smith, who was Potter’s partner at the Ministry, had shown up at St. Mungo’s on Thursday afternoon, Potter hadn’t looked Draco in the eye. Even as Draco had healed Potter’s broken arm and tried to small talk, Potter wouldn’t look at him. And it hadn’t been because Smith had been there; Potter didn’t usually give a flying fuck about Smith’s presence. Smith had even given Draco a weird look, as if to say, ‘what did you do to cause this, Malfoy?’ Or maybe Draco was just projecting. Whatever, if Potter had only been embarrassed about coming to Draco drunk, he should have gotten over it by now. Draco had even sent Potter’s owl back with a ‘No trouble at all, Potter. See you when I see you then.’ That should have eased Potter’s mind, but apparently, it hadn’t.
A thought had struck Draco as Potter and Smith were leaving. What if Potter had found someone? Was he going on a date on Friday, and was scared to tell Draco? But that couldn’t be it. Potter would end it with Draco as soon as he found someone else and he wouldn’t be anything but blunt about it. Potter didn’t know Draco had any feelings that could get hurt in the process. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was why Potter was so fucking weird; he’d figured out that Draco was in love with him and he was thinking of how to end it without hurting Draco’s feelings? Potter was nothing if not a bumbling fool, but he was very keen not to hurt people, no matter who they were. Fuck! What the fuck was Draco supposed to do now?
***
Friday evening Draco finds himself out drinking with his two best (only) friends; Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. If Potter isn’t going to fuck him, he might as well fuck himself over with too much alcohol. But he isn’t precisely getting drunk, not yet anyway. Blaise and Pansy can see he’s down and if he gets too drunk they will weed out of him what it is about and he doesn’t want them to know that he has fallen head over fucking heels in love with Potter of all people. He suspects they already know, but he doesn’t want to confirm anything. They are Slytherins after all, and there’s no telling what they might do; how they might hold it against him.
“Draco…” Pansy begins, and Draco steels himself for the coercing that’s coming. “What’s going on with you? These past few weeks you’ve hardly said a word.” That’s more direct than Draco was expecting, but that’s better; he can stop her assault for information head-on.
“It’s nothing, Pans, truly.”
“You only call me Pans when you’re hiding something.” Damn, she’s right; of course, she’s right. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell them, they already know about the shagging, they might as well know how pathetic he is, developing feelings (or already having said feelings, shut up) as well. And then he can get smashing drunk and not worry, a good plan, yes, absolutely.
“I… might have developed feelings for Potter.” He admits, swirling the drink in his glass, an awful bourbon, but the taste doesn’t genuinely matter when you’re out to get drunk.
“You mean the feelings you’ve had for him since our fourth year? You climbed a tree to mock him, and I had to help you climb that tree, Draco.” Blaise raises his eyebrows and his beer.
“Shut up. I didn’t like him back then, at least I didn’t know I did.” Draco refutes.
“But you’ve still liked him for quite some time, so what’s the problem? I thought you were screwing Potter anyway, as disgusting as that is.” Pansy prods.
“That is the sodding problem, Pansy. We’re screwing like rabbits-“
“Yuck” Pansy interrupts. Blaise pretends to vomit.
“Shut it! Whatever. The problem is that I’m the only one with feelings.”
“You think Potter would fuck someone for three years that he didn’t have feelings for?” Pansy’s words give Draco pause. Would Potter have continued their relationship for so long, with anyone that he doesn’t have feelings for? But Draco isn’t just anyone, he’s a great lay and he gives amazing blowjobs. Besides, if Potter isn’t looking to settle down, it’s easier to have a fuckbuddy, or whatever, instead of a relationship, and Draco’s an easy option since they already have something regular.
“I’m great in bed, Pansy. He won’t leave my ass just because he doesn’t like me.” Unless he finds out that you like him, is Draco’s helpfully sobering thought.
“If he honestly doesn’t like you, then that sucks, man,” Blaise says and gets up to get another beer.
“Yeah. Hey, get me another bourbon as well!”
“I still think you should tell him. You never know.” Pansy lifts her wine to her equally red lips.
“I’m afraid he might already know; he’s been acting weird. Normally at this time he’d be screwing my brains out-“ he ignores Pansy’s sounds of disgust “but suddenly he’s meeting with Granger and Weasley.”
“Maybe it’s someone’s birthday?”
“You don’t think I checked? Granger’s birthday’s in September, and Weasley’s in March.”
“You actually looked it up? You must be more worried than I thought.” Blaise puts down his bourbon in front of him.
“Shut up, Blaise” Draco is getting so fucking drunk tonight.
***
Saturday evening, Draco is still panicking. He doesn’t want to confront Potter, because what if he’s gotten it all wrong and Potter has no clue about Draco’s pathetic feelings. So, Draco can’t exactly confront Potter and risk spilling feelings that Potter has no clue about. Draco’s pacing in his living room when the floo network swooshes to life. He has only a split second to compose himself before Potter himself stumbles out of the fireplace. He is sober this time, thank Merlin, but he seems apprehensive, hesitant. Is this the end? Draco thought. Is Potter breaking it off now?
“Malfoy” Potter flashes his million-watt smile as soon as he lays his gorgeous green eyes on the blonde.
“Potter” Draco can’t bring himself to muster up as much enthusiasm, but relief begins creeping in. Potter wouldn’t smile like that if he’s coming to break things off, right?
“I missed you yesterday,” Potter says, looking more hesitant again.
“You did?” Draco makes his way over to the couch and flings himself dramatically down upon it. If they’re going to have a talk he isn’t going to stand awkwardly, shuffling on his feet.
“I- We need to talk,” Potter says and the weight that had been in Draco’s throat since Potter stepped through his floo settles in his stomach. We need to talk. I need to talk to you about how you broke our rules and fell in love with me so now we have to stop this. Fuck.
“What do you want to talk about, Potter?” Draco knows he’s stalling, and Potter’s coming towards him. The couch dips as Potter settles down on the opposite end from Draco.
“I met up with Ron and Hermione yesterday, you know.” Potter begins and Draco wonders where the fuck this is going. Whatever Potter wants to talk about, Draco could never have imagined that it would begin like this.
“Yes, you said so in your letter.” Potter shifts a little in his seat and looks as if he would rather be anywhere but here, talking to anyone but Draco. It hurts Draco a tiny bit, even though he always knew it was going to come eventually.
“Yeah, well. Hermione said it wasn’t fair on you. She said I’m using you, and I guess I kind of am, even though I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Draco feels a sudden cold run through his veins. Potter talked to Granger (and Weasley too, probably) about Draco. He told them about his feelings for Potter, took their advice. It makes Draco suddenly furious and humiliated. Potter has no right to tell anyone! Did he laugh with his friends about how pathetic Draco is to have fallen for him?
“You told Granger and Weasley?” It isn’t truly a question. “Who else have you told?” The words leave Draco’s lips in a rush, forced out against his will for Potter to see, for Potter to laugh at. How Draco is so fucking desperate to keep his deplorable feelings hidden, how Potter can hurt him by spreading it around, how he can humiliate him.
“About us having sex?” Potter pretends not to understand. “I only told them, I didn’t know it was a secret, Malfoy. I’m sorry.” He looks sorry, too, which infuriates Draco even more. How can he pretend to be sorry and then laugh and make fun behind Draco’s back? He genuinely thought Potter was above that sort of thing. Guess love truly makes you blind.
“Just get out, Potter. Don’t talk to me ever again!” He points a shaking finger at the fireplace, ending the conversation and whatever relationship they had. In truth, it’s better than waiting for Potter to finally muster up the courage and end it himself.
“Draco, please.” The use of his first name shakes him to the core. Potter never uses his first name. Never! And Potter’s voice sounds small and fragile, as if Draco isn’t the one who’s heart is crumbling, shattering, rotting. Steeling himself to kick Potter out by force if necessary, Draco rises from the couch. And then Potter falls to his knees, and he’s crying, weeping, clutching at Draco’s legs.
“Please, Draco. I didn’t know you didn’t want me to tell them. I wouldn’t have if I’d known.”
“I obviously wouldn’t want you spreading that kind of information around. It’s humiliating, it’s mortifying.” And he pushes Potter’s hands away. He needs to get Potter out of the apartment before he starts crying himself. Potter falls in a heap on the floor and he’s shaking with sobs. Frankly, Draco is confused, why is Potter the one crying?
“Get out. I don’t want to see you again.” And Draco’s stalking out of the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. When he finally hears the sobs cease and Potter’s shaking voice pronouncing “12 Grimmauld Place” into the floo, he breaks. The tears are pouring out, overflowing, and he’s whimpering, howling with the emptiness he feels in his heart. The place where Potter is and always will be, deep in his core, feels like it’s being repeatedly ripped out of him and stomped into the ground. It’s finally over, done with. But it hurts more than ever. He never should have been with Potter from the beginning. He only set himself up for this terrible, harrowing heartache.
***
Two weeks come and go, and Draco can’t seem to shake himself out of his dejection, this misery. He doesn’t sleep well, and he’s distracted at work. The hospital chief, Rosenstein has lectured him more than once, but Draco just can’t concentrate. He doesn’t cry anymore, not after that first night. It’s like he’s just empty; he doesn’t feel anything but a dull ache in his heart. He misses Potter. Potter’s hands all over his body. Potter’s hot breath in his ear as he gasps out moans and groans, whispering how good Draco feels around his cock. He misses Potter’s cock in his ass, in his mouth. Mostly he misses Potter’s lazy smile after they finish, Potter’s arms around him as they fall asleep. Loving Potter is atrocious. The worst mistake of his life. (Maybe becoming a death eater was a worse mistake, but not by much)
Monday at noon, just a little over two weeks since their relationship ended, Potter’s friend Hermione Granger shows up at Draco’s work. She’s not there to get healed, that much is clear. Her eyes are filled with angry fire and her steps in the corridor are menacing as she marches up to Draco.
“I need to talk to you, Malfoy.” She snarls at him, like an angry cat. He briefly flashes back to his third year when her fist met his face and he blanches.
“I don’t know what you possibly could have to talk to me about” he tries to step around her to continue his work, but she grabs a hold of his collar and pulls him down until his face is dangerously close to hers.
“Now you listen to me, Malfoy.” She seethes. “I have a lot I want to say to you, and I can either do it here, where your co-workers and patients can hear every word I say, or we can go somewhere private.” Faced with those two alternatives, he doesn’t have much of a choice.
They go into his office, and he cancels the lunch-meeting he had scheduled. He sits down behind his desk and gestures to the patient's chair in front of the desk for Granger to sit down. She chooses to stand, glaring at him.
“Go on then, Granger, or did I cancel my meeting just to have you scowl at me?”
“Oh, how you infuriate me, Malfoy. You’re a despicable excuse of a human being.” Now, Draco doesn’t think he’s warranted that kind of description, and especially not from one of Potter’s friends.
“I don’t know what I did to invoke your lousy temperament this time, Granger, but please enlighten me.” His fingers are tapping impatiently against the desk and Granger starts pacing, her mane of hair flying out behind her, which makes her look more like a lion than a cat.
“Harry’s a wreck.” She finally says, and Draco looks up at her. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two, because he doesn’t want to talk about it. All I know is that you said you don’t want to see him again. Now, I understand if you don’t love him back, Malfoy, but you must have made that clear to Harry in the most horrendous way because he is utterly destroyed.”
“Wait, hold up Granger.” Draco holds up a hand to stop her ranting as he mulls over the one sentence that she had uttered that makes no sense whatsoever to him. ‘I understand if you don’t love him back’. But it’s the other way around, Potter doesn’t love him back and that’s why he was going to end it that Saturday.
“I don’t understand anything right now, Granger.” He says and she glowers at him, disbelievingly. “I genuinely don’t. Potter doesn’t love me!” Her look of utter surprise makes him even more confused.
“He didn’t tell you?” she breathes out.
“Tell me what? That he loves me? You’re seriously misinformed if you think Potter’s in love with me.” It just doesn’t make sense. Why had Potter said he’d used Draco if he loves him?
“Of course he loves you, you moron!” Granger exclaims, exasperated. “He’s been in love with you since our sixth year, Malfoy. Why did you break it off if not because he’s in love with you?” She looks as perplexed as Draco feels.
“I thought he told you and Weasley how I felt about him. I thought he was breaking it off with me!” Draco’s mind is going haywire, trying to process this information. Potter is in love with him? Potter is in love with him!
“Both of you are absolute knobheads!” Granger exclaims. “Talk to him, Malfoy. You need to sort this mess out, now.”
“Where is he? Is he at the ministry?”
“No, he took some sick leave. He has barely gotten out of bed since you ended it.” Draco feels the guilt grip him. He shouldn’t have been so harsh back then, but he’d been so angry and humiliated.
“I’m going there. Tell Rosenstein that I’m off work for today.” He’s already out of the chair and heading for the door.
“I’ll tell him, but be sure to fix this mess, Malfoy!” She calls after him as he runs for the floo.
***
He steps out of the fireplace and into Potter´s living room. He’s been here many times before over the past three years, but it feels different this time. It’s quiet. Draco’s heart is beating in his ears as he scans the room and then heads for the stairs. Maybe Granger is right and Potter’s lying in bed, Draco thinks and then he runs right into a wet, naked chest. He knows it’s Potter before he can lift his gaze to meet his stunned gaze.
“Malfoy?” Potter breathes. He’s right out of the shower, his mess of black hair plastered to his face, almost entirely covering his scar, and water is dripping down his toned chest and disappearing into the towel he has around his waist. Draco shakes his head; he’s not here to get fucked, he’s here to talk.
“We need to talk, Potter.” Draco thinks Potter’s going to refuse, to throw Draco’s words about never seeing Potter again back into his face, maybe even get angry, but he doesn’t. He just nods.
“Let me get dressed, and we’ll talk.” Potter’s voice is hoarse, and his eyes are red-rimmed, and Draco realizes that he’s been crying. Guilt tugs at him again, but he pushes it down. He’s here to fix things after all, and if Granger’s right, then things will turn out all right in the end.
Draco waits in the living room, draped over the couch, trying to figure out where to start. Then Potter’s coming down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt that shows off his collar bones. Draco wonders if the colour choice was deliberate but then he focuses back on the matter at hand. Potter settles down in the armchair opposite Draco, and Draco doesn’t know if he’s trying to keep his distance.
“Granger came and chewed me out at St. Mungo’s” Draco begins and Potter’s face drains of colour.
“She did? I’m so sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t kno-“ Potter begins to apologize, but Draco interrupts him.
“No, Potter, I’m glad she did. She said you’re in love with me.”
Potter’s face instead turns the shade of the Gryffindor common room, or what Draco imagines the room to look like.
“Merlin’s rotten balls!” Potter curses under his breath, and Draco can’t help but laugh. At Potter’s angry and embarrassed glare, he stops laughing.
“Sorry.” He smiles at Potter, but Potter wrings his hands together.
“You weren’t supposed to find out, not like that anyway,” Potter mumbles, refusing to look Draco in the eye. So Granger was right! Draco thinks to himself.
“Well, I’m glad I found out somehow. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here now. You know, I love you back, Harry.” And Draco can’t help the dopey smile on his face as he finally says the words that have been weighing on his heart since forever. I must look like a damn Hufflepuff.
“What? That doesn’t make any sense, Malfoy. You said I was humiliating you. You said that being with me was mortifying.”
“No!” Draco protests, quite franticly, because now he understands what Harry thought he meant by those words. “No, I thought you’d found out about my feelings for you, and that you’d told Granger and Weasley. That would have been mortifying when I knew you didn’t love me back. To have these feelings that I wasn’t supposed to have and to have you tell others about it. People knowing that you’re pounding me into the mattress on the regular isn’t humiliating at all. Besides, I told Blaise and Pansy long ago, so that would be quite hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” Draco smiles what he hopes is a reassuring smile as Harry contemplates his words.
“You thought I told my friends that you loved me, and what? Laughed about it?” Harry wonders, sounding indignant.
“Well, yeah. I might have been projecting my fears quite a bit now that I think back on our conversation. But you said Granger told you that you were using me, and I assumed that you were using me for sex, despite knowing about my feelings for you, which I can’t blame you for; I’m an excellent lay.”
“Oh.” Harry becomes quiet, as he contemplates again.
“What did you mean by that anyway? That you were using me.” Draco asks because he still can’t fathom what else Harry could have meant. But if Harry was, is, in love with Draco, then he wouldn’t have been using Draco at all.
“Well, because I’m in love with you, and I used sex as an excuse to be with you. Hermione said it wasn’t fair, on either of us. She said that you had a right to know about my feelings and decide if you were too uncomfortable with that to continue our relationship.”
“So, you weren’t using me for sex, you were using me for my company?” That’s just ridiculous, what does that even mean?
“Does it really matter, though, Draco?” Harry asks and Draco shivers at how his first name rolls off Harry’s tongue. Last time he’d said it, Draco hadn’t been able to enjoy it, considering the circumstances. “If you’re in love with me, and I’m in love with you, then does it matter how we got here?” Harry moves from the armchair and gets on his knees between Draco’s legs and holds Draco’s hands between his own.
“I guess it doesn’t,” Draco says, before leaning in and kissing Harry for the first time as Harry and not as Potter. Harry moans lewdly into his mouth and Draco breaks the kiss to whisper against his mouth, “I want my new boyfriend to fuck me ‘til I scream his name”
“Boyfriend, huh?” Harry chuckles. “Well, I guess he would be delighted.”
“Shh,” Draco hushes him. “Don’t talk, just bend me over the couch and fuck me.”
***
When they're finished, sweaty, panting, and happy, an owl flies in through the window. It drops its letter on Harry’s head and flies off again.
Harry,
I’d probably see something I’d regret if I came over. I hope everything got sorted out, and I’ll be the first one to congratulate you on your new boyfriend (if he isn’t your boyfriend by now I’m hexing him into next year) Also, tell him that Rosenstein was furious and to watch his back at work.
Love,
Hermione
Well, even if Draco gets hexed at work, it is still completely worth it.
***********************************
Author of the above work- BeautifulWorlds