Prompt Number: #6: Established "thing", doesn't have to be a "relationship". Slow, sleepy, on-their-sides fucking
Summary: Sex is emotion in motion -- Mae West
Word Count: ~5700
Author's Notes: I adored the openness of this prompt and no pressure indeed, I’m pretty certain that Harry gets the fuck of his life from Draco in this but as long as you’re, ah, satisfied traintracks then I’m happy! Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!
Beta’d by the ever lovely susannah_wilde. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Draco loves this feeling. The tight, slick heat around his cock, the smell of leather and sweat as he slides his nose up Potter’s neck so he can bury his face in the thick, dark locks, and press a wet kiss to the skin behind Potter’s ear.
Gripping Potter’s hip, Draco lazily thrusts his cock in and out, his eyes closed so he doesn’t see only the back of Potter’s head, always the back of his head. They never fuck face to face.
“Ah!” Potter whimpers and Draco knows he’s close so he slows his pace, but makes his thrusts harder and longer. “C’mon Malfoy! Fuck me like you mean it!”
Simply smiling into Potter’s neck, Draco just rolls his hips, sliding his prick against Potter’s prostate. Judging by the way Potter shudders and tightens around him, he doesn’t mind. For all his talk of ‘harder’ and ‘faster,’ he keeps coming back to Draco and their slow, intense fucks.
It only takes Draco a couple of thrusts to know he’s close. His rhythm gets faster and his thrusts shorter, so he lets go of Potter’s hip to slink his arm around and grab hold of Potter’s cock. Potter’s hands come up and fist in Draco’s hair as he alternately fucks back onto Draco’s cock and forward into Draco’s hand.
Draco bites down on the meaty part of Potter’s neck where it joins his shoulder as he comes. Potter is louder; he moans and cries out before slumping forward and panting heavily. They stay like that, curled into each other for a few minutes. Draco mouths along Potter’s neck and shoulder, licking at the sweating skin before Potter moves. Draco’s mouth leaves his skin and his cock slides out of Potter with an embarrassing, squelching sound. Potter shifts until he is on his back.
Looking over at him, his face in profile, eyes closed, cheeks pink and mouth open slightly, Draco knows he’s half in love with Potter. He takes a deep breath and sits up, swinging his legs off the bed and turning his back on Potter. It’s easier to be the first to leave rather than the one left behind.
Draco snags his wand from the bedside table and casts a gentle, but thorough, cleaning charm over both of them. Potter grunts his thanks and Draco feels the bed shift under his weight as Potter moves.
They dress in silence, backs to each other. Draco’s tying his tie when Potter heads towards the doors that have just appeared, his own tie hanging undone around his neck. They don’t speak, just an awkward up-curl of their lips and a quick glance away before Draco’s striding to the door. He looks at Potter for a moment, their eyes holding, but when Potter’s mouth opens, Draco leaves.
Opening the door slightly, Draco slides passed Potter’s body into the darkened corridor of the single rooms of the eighth year students until he reaches his own. As Draco shuts his door, he pretends not to see Potter watching him. Draco can’t see his features as Potter’s face is shadowed against the light behind him.
When he closes his door, Draco leans against it and runs a hand over his face. This thing he’s got with Potter has been going on since July. They’d both been working at Hogwarts on the repairs, Draco as part of his punishment and Potter as a reason to stay hidden.
McGonagall had tasked them with fixing the Room of Requirement. Draco did the research on the magic while Potter’s raw power was used to try and start a spark of magic to help the room re-ennervate itself. So far they’d been unsuccessful and it is almost March, but they now spend most of their time in bed together rather than doing the work.
They’d been working together in almost silence since a few weeks after the end of the trials and Draco has been trying to keep himself out of sight. Potter seems to be doing the same thing because on Potter’s birthday there had been a large celebration. Draco had hid in the library all evening and he had been surprised when Potter stumbled in drunk and affectionate.
Draco had resisted Potter’s advances until Potter had pressed his hard cock into Draco’s hip and moaned in his ear, “Fuck me.” Draco didn’t, but he did press Potter in the bookcases and hefted Potter’s legs around his hips before rocking his hips firmly and slowly into Potter’s. He had dry humped the Boy Who Lived until Potter came with his hands in Draco’s hair and Draco’s teeth biting into Potter’s neck as he, too, shuddered through his orgasm.
Since then, they’d started to exchange blow jobs and wanked each other before they progressed to sex. They never fucked face to face and Draco’s not sure why.
He pushes himself off the door and stumbles to the bed, taking off his uniform and folding each piece and placing it on the chair of his desk before sliding between the sheets. Curling on his side, Draco wishes Potter were before him so he could sleep dreamlessly for once.
Some days Draco hates Hogwarts. The stones are always cold, the noise never stops and the professors are more invested in house unity than ever before. He often finds himself paired or grouped with Gryffindors. Today he’s with Potter and Longbottom and although Draco never thought he’d be jealous of Longbottom, seeing the easy rapport he has with Potter makes Draco want to hex him.
Draco forcibly reminds himself that Longbottom doesn’t know what Potter looks like when he begs, he doesn’t know how Potter’s skin tastes or how his whole body tightens when he comes. At least, Draco hopes Longbottom doesn’t know what Potter’s like in those moments, and it makes him sick to think he’s not the only one who has seen Potter like that.
A hard shove in the shoulder makes Draco blink. Potter’s frowning at him and Draco wants nothing more than to pull him into his lap and press his mouth and teeth to his neck and mark him for the world to see. Instead, he picks up his quill and quietly writes down the important part of the discussion between Potter and Longbottom. He doesn’t contribute; after all, there’s not much he can say on the implications the First War had on the Second War that won’t cause offence or get him hexed.
When the class ends, Draco’s on his feet and out the door before anyone else. He has to be quick to avoid the jinxes and hexes of his disgruntled classmates. The ones who don’t want a Death Eater in their presence, the ones who had done everything they could without being caught to try and run Draco out of Hogwarts.
It surprises Draco when Potter falls into step beside him as they head towards the Charms classroom. He smiles slightly when Potter’s elbow brushes his and Potter ducks his head. They walk in silence and Draco doesn’t know why Potter is doing this, but he doesn’t mind.
Draco turns his head slightly and sees the flash of Weasley’s ginger hair as she runs up towards them. She sneers at him before pushing herself next to Potter and shoves Draco away as she hooks her arm through Potter’s.
“Uh, Ginny -“ Potter starts to speak, but she interrupts him.
“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend this week. We’re going right? You promised to take me this time.”
“Right. Well, we can talk about this tomorrow.” He looks up at Draco over the top of her head and holds his gaze. “I’m kind of busy now.”
“It’s just Malfoy.” She flicks her hair and it hits his chest, causing Draco to raise an eyebrow at Potter before looking away.
“It’s -” Potter stops, pulls his arm away and says firmly, “Draco and I have a project to work on. It might take longer than tonight and I don’t know if we’ll be finished by the weekend.”
Weasley snorts. “If this is the Room of Requirement thing McGonagall got you on, we all know you’ve given up.”
Pausing slightly, Draco looks at Potter who has stopped fully, the students around them slowing down to see what he would do. Weasley seems to realise she’d said something wrong and takes half a step backwards as Potter leans into her space and says calmly, “When have you ever known me to give up?”
Weasley says nothing and Potter stares at her for a moment longer before moving around her. “Come on, Malfoy,” he says as he passes Draco who has started walking away.
“We don’t have to be busy on the weekend.”
“I know,” Potter says, giving Draco a sideways glance, but Draco doesn’t respond and nothing else is said as they enter the Charms classroom. Draco goes and sits in the back corner. Potter sits by him, simply smiling when Draco frowns at him.
When Weasley and Granger walk in, they say nothing when they spot Potter by Draco, only moving to the back of the class to sit in the seats in front of them. Weasley, unlike his sister, nods politely to Draco and sits before him. Granger gives Potter a long look before sitting down and she angles herself slightly so she can see Draco out the corner of her eye.
Draco looks away, ashamed at how he has done nothing but watch as his aunt tortured Granger. He still has nightmares about it some nights, and he’d wake in a cold sweat with “Mudblood” on his lips and Potter’s disapproving face in his mind.
Charms is an easy class for Draco, like Transfiguration, because it came naturally to him. He takes notes in a daze. Potter’s scent is intoxicating and Draco takes a deep breath every time Potter shifts to hand Weasley a note. The one time he hands one to Draco, he hesitates a few seconds before opening it.
Your room, 10 tonight is all it says, but it doesn’t stop Draco’s cheeks from heating up. He catches Granger’s eye as he looks up, and with a flick of his wand, the note goes up in flames that he puts out when she flinches. He knows she will want to ask Potter questions and he hopes he can prevent her from asking them a little bit longer.
Draco is busy doing his homework when a knock sounds on his door. He frowns at the clock; it was only nine in the evening. Potter isn’t due for another hour and Draco, as the lone returning Slytherin, doesn’t get visitors. He’s not expecting to see Granger on the other side of the door.
“Can I come in?” she asks before pushing by.
Slowly shutting the door, Draco faces her and says, “How can I help you, Granger?”
“What’s going on with you and Harry?” She stands with her arms across her chest and her gaze never settles on anything in particular, flicking over his desk, his bed, the walls, him and around again.
“Potter and I are working on restoring the Room of Requirement.” He pauses before saying, “As the Headmistress instructed.”
“She asked you in May.”
“It’s a work in progress. I know that to someone like you, magic looks like a quick fix solution. But it isn’t. It requires -“
“What do you mean ‘someone like me’?” She glares at him, one hand going down to her hip where her wand was. “A Mudblood?”
“Muggleborns, yes.” Draco replies calmly, his eyes flitting from her wand to her face.
Granger snorts softly. “Oh, let’s not pretend to be civil. I know exactly what you think of me.” She yanks her sleeve back and the thin raised scar, the remnants of Aunt Bella’s torture was there for him to read. “That’s what you think of me. And Harry.”
Closing his eyes, he turns his face away from her.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” Hermione spat, bitterly.
“No more than you like this,” Draco snarls as he rips up his left sleeve to expose the Dark Mark, black and stark against his flesh. As she curls in on herself, Granger’s eyes are fixed on his forearm. “This does not mean that I hate you for being Mudblood. I don’t like you because you’re a nosey, interfering know-it-all. That has nothing to do with your blood status and everything to do with your personality!
“But you! You and every other person in this castle hates me because of this! Where is your fight for equality now?” Draco shouts and his chest heaves as he stares at her, Granger’s face is white and her eyes wide with fear, tears staining her cheeks.
Swallowing heavily, Draco pulls his sleeve down and buttons up the cuff. He opens his door and Granger runs out, wiping at her face. She turns to him, the light from the open door spilling over her face.
“I -” Granger doesn’t finish because two more people join them. Draco looks over to see Weasley and Potter.
Immediately, Weasley goes to Granger and pulls her into his chest where she clutches at his knitted sweater. “What did he do, Hermione?”
“Ron,” Potter starts.
“No, Harry. I know you have to work with the ferret, but we all heard the shouts, we can see which one is in tears, so what did he do, Hermione?” When Granger just shakes her head, Weasley rests his hand on her hair and holds her steady as he looks up at Draco, eyes blazing.
Draco glances at Potter, then back at Granger and Weasley, who says, “So what did you do to her, Malfoy?”
“I told her the truth.” When Potter and Weasley share a look, Draco flexes his left hand and clenches it, saying, “It’s not my fault she didn’t like it.”
“And what truth is that Malfoy?” Weasley challenges, pushing Granger behind him as he draws his wand and faces Draco square on.
Titling his head slightly, Draco glances at the three of them in turn. “One that doesn’t matter.” Before anyone else says anything, Draco steps back into his room and shuts the door, not wanting to see Potter looking at him in that disappointed manner when he explains. He’d leave that to Granger; she can spin it how she wants and Draco knows he’d look like the bad guy, but that’s what the Mark means.
Draco sits on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. He just wishes he was away from Hogwarts and its judgemental students. Giving up on the day, Draco starts to get undressed and ready for bed. He takes his time and when he is in bed, he casts a Tempus. It is quarter past ten and Potter hasn’t showed and Draco assumes that the end of their fling has come, quicker than Draco expects or wants.
It is hot and Draco turns to fling the covers off and he wakes up when he can’t move. There is something over his arms and waist. It takes a few seconds for Draco to realise it is an arm. He twists his head and can’t see properly in the dark so he untangles himself. Barely daring to hope as his hands slide through thick hair, he runs a thumb over the forehead, sighing in relief as he brushes over a thin scar. He traces the lightning bolt before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Potter’s cheek.
Draco burrows into Potter’s chest, smiling. It isn’t over; Potter had come and crawled into his bed even though Draco was sleeping. Closing his eyes, Draco listens to the soft thumps of Potter’s heartbeat, allowing it to lull him back to sleep.
When Draco wakes again in the morning, his bed is empty and as he stares at the bed, he can’t remember if last night happened or if it was a dream. He goes through his usual routine and heads to the Great Hall for breakfast. As he sits at the Slytherin table, Draco catches Potter’s eye. Potter’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t look away.
Smiling back, Draco picks up his cup of tea, only breaking eye contact with Potter when he is jostled by Granger. She glares at him and Draco sardonically inclines his head in her direction. Granger stares back looking affronted; she frantically starts whispering into Potter’s ear before tugging his arm and pulling him away from the table.
It doesn’t take long for Draco to realise that she probably hasn’t told Potter what he’d said last night. Suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore, Draco puts his cup of tea down and leaves the Great Hall. He heads for the eighth year dorms so he can get his bag and books for the day.
When he enters the common room, Draco isn’t surprised to find it occupied by Weasley, Granger and Potter. The two men look at him with such disgust that Draco wants to apologise, but he is a Malfoy and Malfoys stand proud. Besides, he’s not going to say he’s sorry for his opinion, nor for the truth, be it one they didn’t like.
Draco simply walks towards the staircase leading to the rooms. “That’s it, Malfoy, take the coward’s way out. Again,” Weasley says viciously. “I always knew you were a bastard. It’s people like you who make me wish we were still fighting the war.”
“Not all wars are so bloody. I’m still fighting one, Weasley,” Draco snarls.
“It’s no war, Malfoy. It’s a personal vendetta.” Weasley stands and moves to stand in front of Draco. “You were on the wrong side last time and now you’ve got no one behind you. No daddy to hide behind. You call it a war, but it’s a joke.”
With a glance at Granger and Potter, Draco says, “Are you laughing? No one is. It’s no joke Weasley, this -” Draco calmly unbuttons and rolls up his left sleeve, “- is no joke.”
Weasley goes white beneath his freckles and Draco stares at him a moment longer before turning away and heading up the stairs. He couldn’t help but be aware of Potter’s silence. He doesn’t expect anything. Pushing aside the disappointment, Draco enters his room and starts to pack his bag for the day. He assumes that unlike yesterday, he won’t have Potter’s silent support during classes.
When his door clicks open, Draco spins to see Potter entering. They stand watching each other for a moment before Potter says, “How could you say that to Hermione?”
“Which part?” Draco feigns confusion.
“You called her names. You hurt her feelings.”
“I hope you realise how petty you sound right now.”
Potter growls in frustration. “Damnit, Malfoy! I’m trying to understand.”
“You want to understand? You’ve never wanted to understand, Potter! There’s a reason we don’t talk when we fuck. There’s a reason you never look at me. You don’t want to understand where I’m coming from.
“You don’t care that I’m hexed and jinxed every day by your friends. That I’m only here as a part of my punishment. Nobody wants me here, Potter, not even you despite the benefits you get.” Draco smirks and Potter’s frown deepens.
“How can you say that? I thought we -”
With a sigh, Draco says quietly, “If you honestly thought we were doing more than fucking, that’s not my problem. You’re the one who wants it kept quiet. You’re the one who won’t tell his friends. They think you feel sorry for me, not anything more.”
Potter’s shoulders slump but Draco knows Potter knew it was true by the way he looks at Draco, guilt etched onto his face.
With an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe, Draco steps up to Potter and leans down to press their lips together in their first kiss. It is chaste and when Draco sucks Potter’s lower lip, Potter opens his mouth into the kiss, flicking his tongue out to meet Draco’s.
Draco pulls back, and rests his forehead against Potter’s for a brief moment before moving away to his door. He opens it and says softly, “Goodbye, Harry.” Draco leaves Potter standing in his room as he makes his way to his first class of the day.
Classes for the rest of the day are awkward for Draco. Potter is late to each one and takes one of the empty seats that are always around Draco. He would watch Draco, too, and their classmates start to notice.
Draco hears whispers about the shouting match he’d had with Granger the day before and now Potter’s behaviour is making them suspicious. Draco leaves Potions late, wanting to ask Slughorn a question about the Wolfsbane Potion. Draco is unsatisfied with the answer and knows he’d never be able to get the Headmistress to allow him to speak with Severus’ portrait. He is so distracted that he doesn’t hear the whisper, but he feels the sting of the hex as it strikes his cheek.
Looking up the dark hallway, as it often was in the dungeons, Draco raises a hand to his stinging cheek. His fingers come away wet when another flash of a spell comes towards him. This one strikes his neck, and he feels blood sliding down to soak his collar. Aiming his wand in the direction the light had come from, Draco casts a non-verbal Stupefy before grabbing his bag and running in the direction of the stairs.
Another hex catches his wand arm and sends a deep gash down his forearm. Draco swears and he stumbles up the stairs into the Entrance Hall. It is milling with students who point and stare at him. Draco doesn’t care as he pushes through them, heading to his room so he can heal his wounds.
Draco carries on walking through the eighth year common room when he hears Potter calling out to him. A strong hand grips his shoulder and tugs him around before Potter says, “Malfoy, what in Merlin’s name happened?”
“Bullshit.” Potter says, his hand reaching up to press against the cut on Draco’s neck. Draco is conscious of Granger, Weasley and Longbottom staring at them. “This is spell work. Let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”
Draco pulls himself away from Potter’s touch. “I’m fine, Potter, I can heal myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Potter, leave it!” Draco snaps.
“No! Not until you’ve seen Madam Pomfrey.”
“I’ve healed worse, Potter.” Draco turns away and even though black spots dance in front of his eyes, he determinedly kept walking.
“Draco, please.” Potter says quietly and Draco doesn’t want to give in, but he is feeling so weak and his head feels as though it isn’t attached to his body. When strong arms slide around him, Draco allows himself to relax in Potter’s embrace for a moment. Around him, Draco hears Granger asking “What are you doing?” and Weasley’s high-pitched “Harry?” Longbottom is silent and so is Potter as he tries to get Draco to walk, but his legs aren't co-operating.
“Neville, can you go and get Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall please?”
“Ron, I need your help.” Potter sounds desperate and Draco tries to get to the floor. He wants to sit down, but Potter isn’t letting him. “No, Draco. Please, Ron, I know you hate him but I -“
When Draco opens his eyes, he is in the Hospital Wing. There is a metallic taste in his mouth that means he’d been given Blood Replenishing Potion. The room is empty, but it is still dark outside so he assumes it is the early hours of the morning.
He tries to remember what had happened, but he can’t think past Potter’s words. He wonders what Potter had said next, if anything at all. Draco doesn’t know if Potter had cut himself off or if that was when Draco had blacked out.
Footsteps patter across the floor and Draco sees Madam Pomfrey coming towards him. “Mister Malfoy, how are you feeling?”
She looks down her nose at him, lips pursed. “Don’t lie to me. Do you have a headache? How do your neck, arm and cheek feel?”
“I - Yes. I have a headache, and only my arm and neck hurt slightly.”
“That will be because they were deep cuts.” She tuts as she reaches into the cupboard beside Draco’s bed, pulling out a pain potion. “I will give you a sleeping draught, so you’ll be able to sleep naturally. Besides, the Headmistress will be here in the morning; she wanted to speak with you as soon as you woke. Mister Potter was quite vocal about finding out who hexed you when he brought you in.” Madam Pomfrey pauses, “I will need to inform the Headmistress that you have healed yourself from various ailments.”
Draco swallows heavily. “I understand.”
“Before I do, I must ask: were any of them self-inflicted?”
“None of them.”
“And why did you not come and see me? I am the Mediwitch of this school, young man, and I will not turn away any patient,” she says heatedly when Draco just turns his face away. “Drink this, you’ll be able to sleep.”
She holds the potion near his lips and he swallows, mumbling “thank you,” drifting off to sleep as the throbbing in his head eased.
When Draco wakes again, it is day time and the sun is shining brightly through the windows. His head doesn’t hurt as much and when he moves, there is a matching throb of pain in his neck. Thankfully his arm doesn’t hurt when he lifts it to examine where he’d been hit. There’s no scar; Madam Pomfrey has obviously healed him quick enough for which Draco is grateful. He is given breakfast and has just finished eating when the doors open and the Headmistress walks in.
“Mister Malfoy, I do not know how I can express my disapproval in you,” McGonagall says briskly. “I should have been informed immediately when the bullying started.”
Draco sits up; he sways a bit, but the anger allows him to continue. “Excuse me for not believing you actually care about my wellbeing. I have tried to speak to you about this before, once in September and again in October. You would not give me the time of day, probably thinking, just a Death Eater complaining about ill-treatment.”
“Mister Malfoy -“
“If you’ll excuse me, Headmistress, but I have class to attend.” Draco stands and tries to get by, but McGonagall stops him with a hand out, not quite touching.
“I don’t know where you’ve got the idea that this school and its staff do not care about you as a person or as a student, but I can assure you it’s not true.”
“Of course ma’am.” Draco smiles tightly and moves around her, not believing her for a second.
By the time he reaches the eighth year common room, Draco has calmed down. Thankfully it is empty and he is able to go to his room and get dressed for the day without interruptions. He looks at himself in the mirror and straightens his tie; the cuff of his left sleeve shifts and Draco sees the black of the Dark Mark that he has kept hidden since it had been burned into his flesh.
Making a decision, Draco rolls up both his sleeves. He might as well show the world what he is being persecuted for. With his head held high, Draco leaves the bathroom, picks up his bag and makes his way to the Charms classroom.
Knocking on the door, Draco opens it. “Sorry I’m late, Professor,” he says as he walks in and Flitwick waves him towards an empty seat in the back. Striding by his classmates, Draco is grotesquely pleased by the hisses and names he is called. He can’t stop himself from looking at Potter, whose features seem to radiate pride.
Charms is a theory lesson and Draco is pleased not to be grouped with people who don’t like him, but he can feel Potter’s eyes on him the entire lesson. Even Flitwick has to tell Potter to, “Pay attention to the lesson and not to Mister Malfoy”.
Embarrassed, Draco ducks his head and tries to hide his face from Potter’s unwavering gaze. When class ends, Draco packs slowly as his head has started to hurt, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing Potter shooting out the door as soon as they are dismissed. Judging by the gazes Granger and Weasley exchange, they are just as surprised.
Walking towards his next class, Draco takes careful and deliberate steps trying not to exacerbate the pounding in his head, when his hand is grabbed and he is pulled harshly to the side. His head spins and Draco finds himself being supported by the wall at his back and Potter at his front. Draco closes his eyes to wait for the spinning to pass. Potter takes this as an opportunity to kiss and nuzzle his neck.
“Stop it, Potter.”
“I don’t want to stop. I never wanted it to stop,” Potter whispers in his ear before pulling away and looking at Draco seriously. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to stop you from getting hurt by my friends. I’m sorry you think I’m ashamed of you. I’m not, I’m just…” Potter trails off and he looks at their feet for a moment then back up at Draco’s face. “I am sorry.”
Shaking his head, Draco pushes Potter back and moves away from the wall. “Sorry isn’t what I want to hear. Everybody’s sorry when it’s too late.”
Draco starts to walk away. The corridor is empty now and Potter’s voice echoes slightly as he says, “It’s not too late. I’m in love with you.”
Turning around, Draco faces Potter and smiles sadly. “Now why don’t I believe you?”
Potter doesn’t say anything else; he seems to crumple and he slouches against the wall. Feeling drained, Draco leaves the corridor and decides not to go to class. He makes his way back to his room where he lies down and falls asleep almost instantly.
There is a heavy weight on his thighs and feather light touches on his chest and neck. Draco stretches under the weight and opens his eyes slowly. Potter smiles down at him and bends to kiss Draco softly before moving to suck kisses down his jawline and neck, murmuring “You’ve been asleep almost all day. I thought you’d never wake up.”
“What are you - oh - doing?”
“I’m going to make you believe me.”
For a moment Draco is confused, but it doesn’t take long for him to remember the incident in the corridor. Draco turns away from Potter, who cups his cheek and forces Draco to look at him. “Don’t do that. I meant it. I’m in love with you, Draco Malfoy, and I want you to know it.”
Clenching his eyes shut against the burning sensation, Draco takes a deep breath. Potter chuckles lightly and his hand slides down Draco’s naked chest to cup his balls. Potter caresses them for a moment then moves to tug at Draco’s cock until it is hard.
“I think I should be more disturbed and less turned on by the fact that you undressed me when I was sleeping,” Draco says, trying to ease the mood and make things more casual, more like they were when Draco could pretend he doesn’t care.
Potter, who Draco only just notices is naked and hard, shifts until the head of Draco’s cock is resting against his slick entrance. “I prepared myself for you, I want to fuck you like this. I want to make love with you.” Potter doesn’t move though; he is waiting for Draco to accept.
Draco pulls Potter into him, kissing him swiftly and deeply as he rocks his hips so his cock slides between Potter’s cheeks, the head catching on his hole. Draco pauses and when Potter rocks his hips back and moans into his mouth, Draco pushes up and in. He groans into Potter’s mouth; they pull back from kissing to pant into each other’s mouth, tongues brushing as Draco thrusts up into Potter as he rocks on top of him.
It is the most intense sex they’d had and suddenly it isn’t enough; Draco wants more. He grips Potter’s hips tightly and pushes with his legs until they are on their sides. Potter wraps his leg around Draco’s waist and Draco is able to thrust harder and faster into him. They move frantically together, pushing harder into each other, both desperate to come.
“Oh!” Potter moans, “Draco! Please!”
Draco snarls into Potter’s neck and bites the skin there as he moves one hand to tug at Potter’s cock. It only takes a couple of harsh pulls before Potter is crying out and arching into Draco, his arse clenching around Draco’s cock. Draco comes with a wordless shout and as he comes down from his high, he realises he is whispering “Harry,” over and over. And Potter is kissing him wherever he can reach.
They lay together for a few moments before Potter moves carefully off the bed and Draco lets out a soft snort of disbelief. “Hey,” Potter says, “I’m not - We should probably head to the Great Hall, it’s almost dinner time.”
“Oh.” Draco runs a hand through his hair and stretches before getting up and dressing. Potter opens the door and waits for Draco, who smiles as he rolls up his sleeves before they leave together.
Potter brushes a hand against Draco’s left forearm, “I like you like this.”
“Defiant.” Potter laughs and leans in to kiss Draco. As their lips meet, a door opens and Draco feels Potter stiffen, but he doesn’t move away and Draco wraps a hand around the base of his neck, squeezing Potter there.
“Ahem.” They break apart to see Weasley and Granger staring at them. Draco feels Potter square his shoulders and Weasley continues, “You coming to dinner with us or what?”
Potter looks at Draco and says quietly, “I know you don’t like them, but they’re my friends. They know everything, all my friends do. They’ll make an effort if you will. The only one you'll have trouble with is Ginny.”
Licking his lips nervously, Draco looks to Granger who isn’t flinching, and then to Weasley who nods once, stiffly, and back to Potter, “Alright.”