Prompt: # 166
Summary: Harry wants to but doesn't want to, and it's driving him mad. It doesn't help that Malfoy just likes to stare at him all the time, and make drunken confessions.
Warning(s): Angst. Loads of misunderstanding. Fluffy ending (as requested).
Word Count: ~5400
Author's Notes: Dear fyernaice, this is my second year writing for you, and your prompts are always just so wonderful! I hope you're okay with my twisting up your "Pride and Prejudice" inspiration! All my thanks to C and F for their help. All the remaining mistakes are mine. I hope you all enjoy the story!
You Wilfully Misunderstand Me
Harry had never understood him.
He also had the unfortunate habit of thinking everyone was beneath him. So why would Harry have ever considered that his words, spoken in a drunken frenzy, could ever be true?
Of course at any chance he'd gotten, he'd only accuse Harry of wilfully misunderstanding him.
"I'm in love!"
Dean sighed and slouched on the sofa next to Harry as he crossed his legs and opened the latest bridal magazine Hermione liked keeping around. They were supposed to going out for pints but Hermione had called in an "emergency meeting," and Harry dragged Dean along with him.
The emergency meeting was all about Hermione and Ron's wedding of course, and there really was no reason for Dean to tag along with Harry, but Harry knew that he barely saw Dean outside of work and wanted to take a more "active" interest in his life. He had his reasons, but didn't share them with anyone.
Harry did wish that Ron was there with him, but yet another "wizarding tradition" forbade anyone from the groom's family to see the bride in her wedding dress. Including Ginny.
So Harry had to bear the brunt of it, along with Hermione's three bridesmaids: Parvati, Luna and Hannah.
"Is she a Muggle?" Harry asked, curiously looking at the still pictures of the women displayed in Modern Bride.
"What? Certainly not!" Dean answered. "I could never be with a Muggle woman. Not after...her. She's just so elegant and—"
Harry rolled his eyes and elbowed Dean in the ribs. "Sounds like a Pureblood, and doesn't sound like Ginny. Who is it?" Harry joked; he knew exactly who it was. He also knew that's why Dean wanted to chat with him outside of work. He was sure Dean had big news, but he also had to keep pretending he had no idea what Dean was talking about.
Dean shook his head. "I can't. I don't know if I should tell you. Here. But...I am thinking of asking her to marry me." Dean was hesitating, more than usual. Harry had no idea things had escalated so quickly!
"Marry you?" Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to face Dean. "Are you sure she hasn't just given you a Love Potion? It's not Romilda Vane, is it?" Harry teased and a sly smirk was flaunted across his face.
"Don't be daft, Harry! It's Pansy."
"Pansy Parkinson?" Harry continued pretending.
"The one and only!"
"With witches like her, you only need one," Harry mumbled, and thought of him. He too was, the one and only. Dean frowned.
"What are you two on about?" Hermione asked entering the room as she straightened her gown and looked at the two men on the sofa apprehensively. "So, what do you think?"
Harry looked at Dean, whose expression was just as stunned as his. "Hermione, you look—"
"Is it alright?" she asked, hesitantly.
"Alright?" Dean exclaimed. "I might just marry you!" He stood up from the sofa and rushed to kiss Hermione on the cheek. "You know, maybe you should just marry me," he joked.
Hermione was due to get married to Ron in less than three days and she'd finally found the perfect dress. She asked Harry to stop by and have a look as she didn't really trust her mother's opinion. Her mum didn't understand wizarding traditions and continued to pick out dresses that Hermione was sure Molly Weasley would disapprove of.
"I still can't believe Ginny's not here," Harry said, snapping a picture of Hermione standing next to Dean. "Although, you two look like a cute couple," he taunted, "I'm sure Hermione would be a better choice than Parkinson."
Hermione sighed and sat across from Harry. "Ginny is Ron's sister and wizarding traditions dictate that any of the groom's family cannot see the dress before the wedding. And—what's this I hear about Parkinson?"
"Dean's in love," Harry informed her. "Apparently."
"With Parkinson?" She raised an eyebrow and Dean nodded. Luna, Parvati, and Hannah joined them a few moments later as they donned their bridesmaids’ dresses in front of Harry, Dean, and Hermione.
"We've been seeing each other for three months," Dean said, sitting on the sofa again as though he was getting ready to defend himself. This was the news that Harry was expecting to hear from Dean. He had no idea that Dean was thinking of proposing! Malfoy was right, after all. Harry dismissed the thought immediately and turned his attention towards Hermione again.
"I think it's wonderful news!" Hermione said, her tone changing slightly. Harry looked at her bemused. "I do, really! Pansy's changed quite a bit since Hogwarts and she's almost—"
"Human?" Harry asked, playing along.
"Harry!" Hermione nearly shrieked. "Just because you won't—"
"I won't what?" Harry glowered at Hermione, waiting for her to finish her thought.
"Oh, never mind. They're coming to the wedding, you know. She and Malfoy," she informed him and stood up again to show the dresses to the other three girls in the room who were mostly talking amongst themselves. The girls squealed and started discussing Hermione's hair and makeup and Harry sagged back into the sofa.
"I know, I just..." Harry sighed. Of course, Malfoy was attending the wedding. He was Ron's business partner, and accountant. He'd managed to double the profits at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and paid for the entire wedding as his gift to Ron and Hermione.
As much as he was willing to discuss Malfoy in a way via conversation of Parkinson with Dean, Harry had no intention of discussing him with Hermione. Hermione would see right through him and—he just didn't want to imagine—then.
Malfoy. Harry stared at his hands and tried not to think about what it did to him. Every time Malfoy was casually mentioned in conversation.
Six Months Earlier
Harry was finishing the last of his Firewhisky at The Scholars Pub and was about to call it a night when Malfoy plunked himself next to Harry.
"Potter, why are you drinking alone?" He beamed at Harry, an awkward smile on his face as his gaze moved towards Harry's lips.
"I'm not. I'm leaving," Harry answered and stood up to take his leave.
Malfoy gave Harry a once over. "You're jealous, aren't you?" He sounded almost hopeful. He pulled Harry's arm, trying to get Harry to face him, but only ended up falling on Harry.
"Jealous of wh—get off me!" Harry snapped.
"I'd only started paying attention to them because they were your friends. They looked up to you—"
"What are you talking about?" Harry pushed Malfoy's hand away from his waist and took a small step back.
"Mark, Jacob, Will—" It was almost as though Malfoy was bragging, or just proud that he'd actually remembered their names.
"I don't really care to know which of the recent Hogwarts graduates you stuck your cock into, Malfoy. Or why." Harry remembered the day Jacob had come in strutting to work, looking like he hadn't slept all night. Then he'd said something about spending time with "Mr Malfoy."
Malfoy had emerged out to society again after the remnants of the war and the Trials had been over. His father had received a lenient sentence to Azkaban and Draco Malfoy and his mother were absolved of any crimes.
He'd offered to partner up with George and Ron Weasley as a means to grow a reputation for himself and help them with their business. He'd had a proper business plan and everything and they had eventually agreed.
Within a year, George was impressed by Malfoy's ability to balance all their books and increase their profit margin.
Harry also had begun to admit his fascination with Malfoy. He'd thought that Malfoy had changed so much, and he didn't know when or how, but he was attracted to Malfoy. Then, Malfoy had a new reputation. One of an eligible bachelor, someone who claimed himself to be a "free man."
Free to shag but never settle down.
"Not all— You misunderstand..." Then Malfoy mumbled something that Harry didn't understand. He looked up at Harry, almost vulnerable, and Harry just knew he was acting. He had to be.
"What?" Harry snapped again.
"I only wanted to get to know them because you'd never even look at me," Malfoy said, managing to stand up straight and looked at Harry in the eyes as he spoke.
Yeah, I never looked at you because you made me weak in the knees, Harry wanted to say, and then realised how pathetic he sounded. He grimaced.
"Because you won't let me tell you how I lo—want—you. I've fought against my better judgement, and yet I still desire you, most ardently." Malfoy spoke haughtily; that was the Malfoy Harry knew.
"You're drunk, Malfoy. You only want me for the night," Harry said, shaking his head and put his jacket on.
"No, always— Again."
"I don't care," Harry retorted. His tone harsher than he truly intended it to be. "I am not interested in a one-off."
Malfoy smirked. "But you're interested—"
"Sod off." Harry stepped back again as Malfoy approached him.
Malfoy looked confused, and for the first time on his drunken face, Harry saw a bit of hurt. "Why are you rejecting me?"
"I'm sure your better judgement will help you overcome it," sneered Harry.
Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. Harry continued. "If you had presented yourself in a more thoughtful manner—"
"I don't understand." That look of almost-hurt was back. He reached over, trying to grab Harry's arm again.
If you hadn't shagged my friends, Harry wanted to say. He was attracted to Malfoy, he'd always been. But he wasn't about to jump into Malfoy's arms, only to be discarded shortly after. The way all of his friends had been.
"That's the trouble with you, Malfoy. You think everyone should bow down to kiss your feet." He stepped back, almost too scared to be touched by Malfoy again, and Malfoy scowled.
Harry turned quickly and all but ran away from the pub. He Disapparated home and crashed on his bed, almost tripping over the cat. He'd never felt so defeated.
Three Months Earlier
It was a gloomy day as Harry stared out the café window waiting for the rain to be over. Ron had finally proposed to Hermione and Dean had told him recently that he had met someone new. Everyone around him seemed to be coupling up, and the pressure for him to find someone was also building. Molly continued to insist on setting Harry up on blind dates with every "nice boy" she'd come across.
Harry knew the voice all too well. He'd managed to avoid Malfoy for several months, ever since their last encounter at The Scholars Pub.
Harry nodded reluctantly. "Malfoy—"
"Do not be alarmed, Potter. I'm not here to repeat any sentiments which a few months ago were so disgusting to you." Harry frowned at Malfoy's statement and Malfoy, without an invitation, seated himself on the chair across from him.
"I'm here about Pansy."
"Pansy?" Harry asked, baffled.
"It seems your friend Thomas has asked her to dinner on several occasions and she's inclined to say yes."
"O...kay." Harry dawdled with the thought. Why was Malfoy discussing this with him?
"I wish to ask you of his intentions."
"His intentions?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Clearly he's lost his mind."
Malfoy smirked slightly and straightened his expression. He seemed to have been amused. "So, you agree that it is not a trick?"
"Not that I'm aware of. I know that he mentioned seeing someone new that he was rather excited about, if I had known—"
"I just want to be clear," Malfoy said, playing with the tablecloth, twisting it around his index finger and letting it go. He looked up at Harry with expectant eyes. Harry didn't know what to do with that look.
"So she's inclined to say yes?" Harry repeated Malfoy's words.
"You know how women are... their imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to marriage in a moment. It's no surprise that the moment Thomas gave her any attention, Pansy started shopping for wedding robes!"
Harry scowled at Malfoy's remark; Malfoy was one to talk. Not everyone was so dismissive about romance or commitment as he was. "As opposed to your imagination?" he asked. "The moment a bloke looks at you, you begin to wonder what he'd look like on your sheets!"
Malfoy shrugged. "At least I'm not in denial about it. I know what I like, and I go after it."
"Naturally," Harry said and stood up to walk away. The rain hadn't stopped but he didn't wish to sit there any longer. He couldn't bear to face Malfoy anymore, not after the heat of jealousy in his stomach was rising again. Malfoy went after what he wanted, so it was clear he didn't want Harry. Not for more than just a shag, or perhaps not even for a shag anymore. Now that he was sober compared to that night at the pub.
"I didn't mean..." Malfoy sighed. He was about to say something else but Harry didn't turn.
Of course, Harry was too proud to admit his jealousy. He wouldn't dare express his desire for Malfoy. Even though he'd see Malfoy discard one bloke after another, claiming to be unable to find the right fit. Harry wanted to fit with Malfoy. He wanted it immeasurably.
He knew he'd rejected Malfoy's proposal but it wasn't due to any other reason than the fact that Malfoy approached him when he was pissed. If he'd been sober, if he'd told Harry how he felt then, then Harry would have accepted his offer right away. He just didn't want to be another notch on his bedpost. No matter the fact that Harry only dreamt about just the thing every night.
The day of the wedding arrived and Ron was more nervous than Hermione.
"Do you think I look alright?" he'd ask apprehensively every few minutes.
"Mate, you look great!" Harry told Ron for the hundredth time that day. "No one is going to be looking at you, anyway."
Ron smiled and patted Harry's shoulder. "Malfoy's here, you know."
"So I heard," Harry said, remembering Molly's squeal when she'd seen Malfoy.
"Yeah, mum's taken a bit by him," Ron admitted.
"Rather surprising." Harry's disdainful tone was hard to miss.
Ron turned to look at his reflection again and adjusted his collar. "She wishes you two—"
Harry made a disgusted sound. "Not you too," he said. Why was no one leaving this alone? Was there something that everyone else knew and Harry did not?
"He's actually not that bad—" Harry glared at Ron. "I know. Me. It's me who is saying this. But he's turned out to be quite decent—"
"Except for the interns," Harry said, interrupting Ron.
"Mark, Jacob, Will—"
Ron looked confused.
"They told me about him. He's so nice, takes them out to dinner. He clearly shagged them."
"At the same time?"
Ron shook his head, looking confused. "No, he never—"
"They're ready!" Molly came rushing into the room to announce the commencement for the ceremonies. "Talk later," she demanded and pulled Ron into the other room.
The ceremony started quickly, and Harry never got a chance to speak to Ron again. He wanted to know what Ron was going to say. Malfoy never—what? Then, as soon as the bride entered the room, everyone turned to look at her, and Harry caught Malfoy from the corner of his eye; he was standing on the other side. When Harry turned to look at him and simply give a courtesy nod, Harry noticed that Malfoy didn't even flinch; he hadn't taken his eyes off him. Not through the entire bride's progression, well into the ritual. Every time Harry would turn to look at Malfoy, his gaze was set on Harry.
Shortly after, they were less than ten yards of each other. And so abrupt was his appearance, that it was impossible to avoid Malfoy's sight. Their eyes instantly met again, and Harry was sure his cheeks were tinged with the deepest blush. He felt immovable from surprise, but soon after recovering himself, he tried to get away. He wasn't sure what he'd say to Malfoy. He was afraid of not being able to keep his composure, and Malfoy would indubitably be only civil, as always.
He was so good at being civil when he was sober. It drove Harry mad.
It seemed that after a few instances of Harry purposely avoiding Malfoy, he'd seemed to have gotten the hint. Malfoy no longer tried to approach him upon catching sight of him and Harry finally was able to sit down, long enough to gather himself in relief.
"Come on, darling. You have to dance!"
Harry heard Parkinson's voice from behind him, and was immediately rattled. He didn't make any sudden movements as to avoid detection or attention on himself.
"Come on, Draco. I hate seeing you standing around idly." There was a pause, and Harry wondered if they had simply wandered off. "Why don't you ask Potter?" she asked, eventually. "He's looking rather fit tonight, don't you think?" She giggled. "Sure enough you think he looks fit—"
“He looks tolerable,” Malfoy said, causing Harry to scowl again. It was funny how after so many years, Malfoy still had the same effect on Harry. “But not handsome enough to tempt me…Not anymore."
Harry heard Parkinson sigh. “Don’t even lie to me, Draco. You’ve been watching him since the moment he arrived. Don’t tell me you don’t wish to stake your claim.”
Malfoy scoffed in his usual manner, “I am in no humour at the moment to give importance to men who are slighted easily by others.”
"He has danced with every eligible bachelor in the room. And every time he sees me, he makes a face and walks away. Do not tell me that Potter is not simply interested in taking someone home for the night. And it is most certainly—not me."
"Don't you think that perhaps he thinks the same of you? That you were just on the pull?" Parkinson asked. She had a point.
"I shall pray, I'm more elusive!"
"To everyone but me. I see where your eyes wander off to, and you must know better than to simply try to elude me, Draco."
Harry saw Dean approach them and took the opportunity to follow his gaze on Dean onto Malfoy and Parkinson. Parkinson turned to kiss Malfoy on the cheek and was whisked off by Dean.
Harry too, stood up from his chair and walked away. He was sure he'd heard enough for the night. He wasn't going to dwell on the conversation and the thoughts of Malfoy any longer. He was sure that everything he'd heard, or imagined he'd heard would only be overanalysed in his head and he wanted to save himself the heartache.
At the end of the night, it was official. Dean had proposed to Pansy, and she'd accepted.
The bedroom was charmed dark the moment an inkling of morning light had started to creep in. Harry buried himself in the covers and chose to stay that way all day. He'd been invited to the Weasley family brunch the morning after the wedding and he'd declined, feigning an illness. He was feeling weak—weakly pathetic for not confronting Malfoy about the accusations he'd become famous for that didn't seem to be true, or about his feelings.
Harry had barely confronted himself about his feelings.
He groaned as someone knocked on his bedroom door. He hadn't closed off the Floo Network in his flat, but he'd hoped that his friends would simply leave him alone.
"Go away!" he roared and pouted, hoping whoever it was wouldn't knock again.
Harry's eyes widened with shock and he immediately stood up. "Malfoy?" he asked, as if he needed to.
"May I come in?"
Harry panicked again and ran his hands through his hair. He quickly grabbed his wand and conjured up a few mint leaves. He was sure his breath would be atrocious. Then he removed the charm from his room and allowed the light to enter in.
"Yes!" he announced. It was too late for him to do anything about the state of his bedroom, or his clothes. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting—" Malfoy waltzed in, dressed in black and green robes; his hair was slicked back and he smiled walking into the room, and looked at Harry. "I—" Harry struggled with his words.
"I was hoping to see you at the Weasley family brunch this morning," Malfoy said, closing the door behind him. "I apologise for the intrusion."
Harry crossed his legs under the blanket, and pointed at his bed. "Would you like to sit?" There were no other places to sit in his room. He reckoned he could have Transfigured a chair for Malfoy.
"Thank you," Malfoy answered and gently sat at the edge of the bed. "I heard you were feeling sick—" He cleared his throat and reached over to brush Harry's hair off his face. "I can call for a Healer."
Harry inadvertently leaned into Malfoy's touch. His hand was soft but firm and Harry longed for Malfoy to bring it down to his lips so he could kiss it. He shook his head at the thought and Malfoy immediately retreated.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Harry said, already missing the touch. He wished he could lean in and simply pull Malfoy onto him. What was wrong with him?
"I wanted to check if you were hot—" Malfoy's face flushed a bit. "I mean, your body temperature. If you had a fever; if you needed a Heal—"
"No, I'm fine," Harry answered, smiling. "Did you enjoy the brunch?" He hoped to change the topic, still eyeing Malfoy's fingers that had just run through his hair.
"Yes. Lots of couples in love," Malfoy said, almost sneeringly.
"Sounds dreadful!" Harry laughed.
"Blaise had accompanied me, as I didn't wish to be the odd one out and he instantly hit it off with Miss Weasley and then, I was."
"Oh. That's usually how I feel at the events. Always the one that's without a date." Harry smiled, and wondered if he should have attended the brunch after all. But then, Malfoy wouldn't be in his room.
"You looked nice yesterday," Malfoy said, after what seemed like ages of silence. Harry furrowed his brows. "What?"
"I don't think you've ever given me a compliment!" Harry answered.
"I have too!" Malfoy argued, although he squinted his face as if he was trying to remember.
"Claiming to shag my friends because you really just fancied me is not a compliment," Harry said.
"Well, claiming that I didn't present my feelings in a thoughtful manner is—"
"Oh, don't tell me what I said!" Harry almost cried with embarrassment. "I was being daft."
"I don't expect...I mean, I pray that I don't really act as though I expect people to bow down to kiss my feet—"
Harry groaned. "I'd rather not remember that night!" He was mortified. He knew that Malfoy had purposely let him think that he'd shagged the interns, but he blamed himself for having easily believed it.
"My feelings haven't changed," Malfoy declared. He edged himself a few inches closer to Harry and held his hand again. His fingers caressing Harry's wrist with the same tenderness the way he had Harry's hair just moments before. "If you still despise me the same way..." Malfoy hesitated. "I don't know why I'm doing this to myself again. I don't know why I set myself up for rejection with you. Every time."
Malfoy sighed as Harry didn't answer. Harry was too busy looking at Malfoy's fingers. He wanted to scoop them up, lick them; his thoughts had betrayed him again. He could never be civil when he was around Malfoy; he'd always ache for him.
"If your feelings are still as they have always been—"
"Malfoy, my feelings..." Harry bit his lower lip as Malfoy looked at him with hopeful eyes. "They're exactly what they have always been," Harry said. He softly smiled at Malfoy who in turn looked disappointed. "I've ached for you for as long as I can remember. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but it's true. I need you. I desperately want you!"
Malfoy leaned in and kissed Harry, who was glad that he'd managed to conjure up the mint leaves. If he'd known that he'd be kissing Malfoy when he awoke that morning, Harry would have been a lot more prepared.
"Sorry," Malfoy said, pulling back a few moments later. "I tend to get carried away sometime." He smiled at Harry, and ran his thumb across Harry's lips. "I've just wanted to do that for so—"
"Why did you let me believe that you shagged...Mark, Jacob, and..."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Will."
"Because..." Malfoy paused. "I thought that if I let you believe that I was more sexually experienced then, perhaps, you'd want to...you'd want me."
"And then what? Win me over with your charming personality?" Harry teased, holding Malfoy's hands as his fingers lingered over the sleeve of his robes.
"It seemed to work for the interns."
"Yeah, they're interns. They don't know any better."
"And you do?" Malfoy was mocking Harry and Harry pulled his hand back from Malfoy's grip. Malfoy pouted and Harry sighed and allowed him to grasp his wrist again.
"I know better than to pretend to be a slut to make someone who already loves me fall in love—" Harry immediately stopped talking. He didn't mean to blurt out love...
"You love me?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
"That's not the point."
"You already love me."
"Shut it, Malfoy."
"You love me," Malfoy teased him again.
"No, Malfoy. I hate you." Harry sneered. He loved Malfoy even through the teasing. There really was no hope for Harry.
"It isn't my fault, you wilfully misunderstood me." Malfoy's hands traced over the covers, finding Harry's knee and then slowly lingered up. He gently squeezed Harry's thigh, and bit his lower lip. Harry wanted to kiss that lip again.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
"Pretending to be a total sex god who will give you the best shag of your life." Malfoy smiled again, and as his hands continued to move up, Harry removed the covers off him, revealing the tent in his trousers. Malfoy almost gasped.
"You don't have to pretend," Harry said, and pulled Malfoy in for a kiss as Malfoy's hands continued to travel under Harry's trousers. His thumb brushed over Harry's cock and he shuddered. "Need you," Harry whispered in Malfoy's ear, allowing Malfoy to push down his trousers and then began to remove his own robes.
"Want you," Malfoy replied. His robes were on the floor and he pulled Harry's shirt off him. Harry whimpered at Malfoy's touch again; he was nervous. "We can take it slow," Malfoy said, "if you want to wait..."
"I've waited long enough," Harry answered. "I want to feel you, all of you..." He rubbed his hand over Malfoy's erection, "...inside me."
Malfoy smiled and leaned in to kiss Harry again. Harry was sure Malfoy could feel his hesitation. It was Harry's first time, and even if it was with someone Harry had been mad over for quite a while, he was nervous.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm yours," Harry whispered and Malfoy nodded. He tightened his grip around Harry, as though he was trying to make sure that he was Harry's too. "I just want to make sure..."
"What?" Malfoy whispered gently into Harry's ear, and Harry shivered from the warmth of his breath.
"That you'll still love me, tomorrow. I don't want to misunderstand that."
"Potter..." Malfoy brows furrowed.
"Malfoy..." Harry smiled softly, rubbing his thumb over Malfoy's lips.
"There hasn't been a moment when I've been alone—what I mean—I've thought only of you. My heart has ached with love only for you, and afraid and shy, I've let the moments pass, but I can't anymore—” Harry kissed him again.
"Harry..." Malfoy brushed the hair off Harry's forehead. "I've longed to touch you like this—" Harry's heart was beating rapidly but he didn't answer, he wanted Malfoy to continue rubbing his thighs as their erections brushed together. He loved the sensation Malfoy's hands provided along with the words he whispered. "It's not too late to stop..."
Harry pushed Malfoy back and picked up the blanket on his bed. He got inside the covers and motioned for Malfoy to do the same. "If you wish to leave, you're welcome to do so. I had planned on spending my day in bed," Harry answered, and Malfoy didn't take long to get under the covers with him.
"We don't have to do everything today," Harry added, "but, I don't want to stop."
Malfoy turned Harry around and held him from behind. Their legs intertwined, and he wrapped his hand around Harry's cock. Harry pushed back on Malfoy's erection immediately; he moaned feeling Malfoy's hot breath on his neck. Malfoy gently bit on Harry's shoulder, squeezing Harry's cock, his hand slid up and down swiftly.
"Draco," Harry moaned again. Malfoy's hand felt like magic around Harry's cock. It was as though he was doing a trick, squeezing it slightly as he pushed up, brushing his thumb while he glided his hand down. It was better than Harry had ever imagined it to be. Gods, he never wanted it to stop.
"Fuck, Harry," Malfoy groaned in Harry's ear. "I want to hear my name just like that from your lips. So bloody hot. Say it again," he commanded softly.
"Draco..." Harry did it again. He pushed back hard on Malfoy's erection, and Malfoy squeezed his cock in between Harry's thighs. "I want you to come on me," he whispered his request. "Do it, please." Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist and slowly took over his cock as Malfoy released his grip and took a hold of his erection. "Yes!" Harry whimpered, feeling Malfoy's cock push on his arse and pull back, then push into his thighs.
"So bloody hot," Malfoy said it again.
Harry wanked himself harsher every time he felt Malfoy push against his skin. He wanted more of everything in that moment, he wished for it to be intensified. "I want to ride you," Harry uttered, his head buried in his pillow, imagining the sensation. He pulled on his cock faster, pushed back on Malfoy harder.
"Fuck," Malfoy groaned. Harry felt a stream of dampness behind him, as Malfoy panted severely into Harry's neck. Then, Malfoy took over Harry's cock again and began tugging. "I can't wait for you to ride me, Harry," he said. His left hand was pulling Harry's hair as he continued with strong strokes, staking his claim on Harry's cock. "I can barely contain myself with the idea of coming inside you." Several more strokes and Harry was spilling all over Malfoy's hand.
Harry turned to face Malfoy, and Malfoy kissed him again. "I need a shower," Harry said, pulling back and grabbing his wand to spell them clean.
"I wasn't going to say anything," Malfoy joshed.
Harry scowled again and pushed Malfoy off him. "Bloody wanker," he said. "But you still love me." He paused for a moment.
"I could join you," Malfoy offered.
"I don't know, as long as you think I'm handsome enough to tempt you," Harry quipped.
Malfoy gasped as Harry got off the bed and grabbed a towel and threw it at him. "I knew you were listening!" he said, sounding shocked.
"That's the thing about me, Malfoy. I'm always listening."
"Well then, I shall be careful and speak only praises of you." Malfoy winked as he allowed Harry to pull him into the bathroom and closed the door behind them.
"I fear that if you do it too much, I might misunderstand your sentiments," Harry teased as he started the shower and dropped to his knees. He was happy to be sure of the fact that the future would hold lots of misunderstandings, and lots of opportunities to make up for them.