Remix Fic
1  I’ll Show You Mine by NurseDarry

“Do you think anyone is going to find us?” Draco sounded as petulant as ever.

“Don’t be thick, Malfoy, of course they will. When we don’t show up in the Great Hall for tea, someone will notice.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t sound convinced. Don’t you want to get out of here?” Harry asked. They had become trapped in part of the lower section of the castle whilst helping to search out unprotected or damaged areas in need of re-warding. Unfortunately, neither boy had realised the amount of damage to this part of the hallway until a non-load-bearing wall and two suits of armour had collapsed nearly on top of them.

“Potter, you’ve just said you’ve still got my wand in your dorm, your own wand is on the other side of this pile of stone, and I’m probably dying from this injury to my leg; of course I want to get out.”

“Malfoy, you’re not dying, you’re perfectly fine.”

“How do you know, Healer Potter? I might be going into shock as we speak. My parents will be very cross with you if I die when there was even a remote chance of you being able to save me—”

“Again.”

“—and you didn’t,” Draco finished, ignoring Harry’s comment.

Although fairly certain that Draco’s last outburst was said facetiously, Harry decided to play along. “Stop being so melodramatic.”

“And I’m sure we’re running out of air,” Draco said.

“You’re still moaning, so there’s no chance of that. I’ll start to panic when you stop whinging,” Harry countered.

“Potter, honestly, my leg is terribly sore. And it’s still bleeding.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Playing the injury card again.“Bloody hell, Malfoy. It’s just a scratch!”

“That is not a scratch, Potter. I’ve been wounded, perhaps mortally,” Draco said.

How he could declare that with a completely straight face, Harry didn’t know. Exasperated, Harry reached up and pulled off his hoodie. Underneath he wore a plain t-shirt. He thrust out his arm under Draco’s nose and directed his attention to the area where his forearm met his elbow. “See that? That’s a scratch. And what you’ve got looks no worse.”

“Hardly. And you can’t possibly compare my injury with what is obviously a wound you sustained when telling your little girlfriend you prefer her brother over her.”

“Shut up, Malfoy! For your information, I got this in fourth year when my arm was cut open in order to use my blood to raise Voldemort.”

Draco cringed at the use of the name.

“And I don’t fancy Ron,” Harry added.

Draco was ready. “I never said you did. But there’s so many Weasleys, I figure you’d just want to work your way through them all.”

“As if you wouldn’t!” Harry spat back.

“Ugh, Potter. Like I’d touch any of them!” Draco shuddered to press the point.

“I bet you’d touch Charlie,” Harry teased.

Draco sneered. “Potter, I would never even think — wait—” the sneer slipped just a little. “Is Charlie the one who was here with the dragons during that very same fourth year?”

“Yup,” Harry said, smiling.

Draco wouldn’t take the bait, but Harry knew he had him. “Whatever, Potter,” Draco said, turning away.

“Ha! I knew it! You fancied him too!”

“Too? Aha!” Draco pounced on Harry’s inadvertent admission.

“I’ve got nothing to hide. Even Ron knows I like him.”

“That’s just weird, Potter.” Draco’s sneer reappeared.

Harry lost his focus for a moment. “I bet he’s got some nice scars...”

Draco narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “Potter, you’re starting to scare me.”

“Shut it, Malfoy. I was just going to say that I reckon he’s got some proper scars. Not like that little thing.” Harry indicated the oozing red line across Draco’s calf where it could be seen through his torn trousers.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve got bigger ones than any stupid dragon tamer,” Draco said adamantly.

Harry burst out laughing. “I bet you say that to all the sailors, Malfoy.”

“What? Bugger off, Potter! How about this?” He pulled up the right sleeve of his blue button-down shirt.

“I don’t see anything,” Harry said, squinting.

“Are you blind, Potter? There!” Draco jabbed at his arm with his left index finger.

“I see a freckle,” said Harry, testing Draco’s capacity for frustration.

Draco’s face reddened. “You take that back this instant!” he shouted.

“What are you, six years old? I’m not going to take anything back.” It was amusing to see that Draco still retained some of his more endearing pre-war personality traits.

“You may not use that word ‘freckle’ in my presence, then,” Draco said imperiously.

“Okay, it’s a blemish,” Harry said, trying very hard to hide the grin which was threatening to spread across his face. This was too easy.

Draco shoved Harry angrily with both hands and nearly toppled over himself. “Just look at it, Potter.”

Harry inspected the long thin scratch along Draco’s right forearm which the other boy had been indicating all along.

“What the hell, Malfoy? That’s been healed; it’s hardly anything!” Harry could guess where this conversation was headed.

“I almost died at the time, Potter, and it was your fault,” Draco harrumphed.

“If you’re talking about Buckbeak I’m going to laugh in your face for the next two hours, Malfoy!” Harry said.

“That monster nearly had my arm off, Potter!”

“It was a scratch, Malfoy. Like the one you have now,” Harry assured him, knowing full well Draco couldn’t ignore the physical evidence, no matter how hard he tried.

“Like you’d know the difference.”

“What’s this then?” Harry raised a hand and pulled his fringe away. “That’s more than a scratch. And it burned like hell when Voldemort was alive.”

Draco didn’t flinch as sharply as he had before when Harry uttered the name, but he shuddered slightly. Then he pulled up the left sleeve of his own shirt. “And I suppose you’ll tell me this is a scratch, too,” he said, subdued, as if talking too loudly about the scars Voldemort had left on them might somehow revive the monster.

Draco no longer carried the Dark Mark; no living Death Eater did. Once Voldemort was gone, the Marks had burned away, just as they had burned when branded into the wearer, but this time leaving a pale ugly scar which no amount of magic or non-magic medicine was able to erase.

“Can — can I touch it?” Harry asked tentatively, reaching out a hand.

“I suppose so,” Draco conceded.

Harry cautiously drew his fingers over the taut white lines burned into the flesh of Draco’s forearm. Draco closed his eyes and Harry felt him blow out a long breath against his cheek as he leaned across Draco’s body.

“Did it hurt?” Harry asked quietly, his hand still on Draco’s skin. He felt the sudden urge to lean down and kiss the marred flesh. What the hell?

“Yes,” Draco said simply, without the usual histrionics. “Both times.”

Harry sat back, blinking. This was getting weird. And arousing.

“Did yours?” Draco nodded at Harry’s forehead.

“I don’t remember,” Harry said.

Draco scooted forward carefully, mindful of his sore leg. “Can I —” He hesitated.

“Sure,” Harry said and bent forward so Draco could push the fringe of dark hair back from his forehead. Harry held his breath. Having Draco’s fingers in his hair felt good. Too good.

Draco’s other hand reached up and gently traced the famous scar.

“Is it fading?” Draco asked.

“I think so,” Harry said. “But it’s still embedded as deeply as it ever was. I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of it completely.” He slowly reached up and caught Draco’s hand in his own. Draco’s fingers left Harry’s hair and he returned the free hand to his lap.

“I was always jealous of that,” Draco admitted quietly without looking at him. “I thought you wore it like some sort of badge, you know, to get attention.”

“I never—” Harry started, but Draco looked up directly at his face.

“I know that now, Potter.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, Harry still holding Draco’s hand, neither of them acknowledging the fact.

“Will you show me your other ones?” Harry said at last, afraid and yet strangely not afraid of Draco’s answer.

“You mean the ones you gave me?” Draco asked quietly.

“Yes,” Harry said, nervously rubbing his thumb across the back of Draco’s hand.

“If you want,” the other boy replied. Draco reached for the buttons of his shirt with his free hand, but Harry stopped him.

“Wait, I — I’ll do it,” Harry whispered. This is definitely crazy, he thought. He released Draco’s hand and his trembling fingers went to work on the small buttons of Draco’s shirt. What am I doing? he asked himself, bending forward slightly hoping to keep his heated face from Draco’s sight. Why is it that these marks so compelling? God, his skin is so beautiful...

Harry nearly forgot his mission when he felt Draco’s fingers in his hair again. Rather than look up at the other boy, Harry concentrated on his goal — to see, to touch the terrible yet alluring result of a careless and desperate act.

Draco’s shirt parted and Harry slowly leaned across to reach into the space left open by the two halves of the material. As Draco’s fingers plunged further into his hair, Harry gently laid his open palm against Draco’s chest. Draco leaned into his hand, just as Harry leaned into Draco’s.

“Potter?” Draco whispered.

Harry finally looked up into the other boy’s grey eyes.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You’re leaning on my sore leg.” Draco said, not breaking eye-contact.

“Oh god, sorry,” Harry hastily shifted sideways, his cheeks reddening even more. “Are you —”

“Potter,” Draco said, pulling Harry toward him by his hair.

“What?” Harry’s eyes watered as Draco manoeuvred him around by his follicles.

“Shut up.”

“Er...okay,” Harry said. He reached out and grasped Draco’s shoulders, which served to take his mind off the stinging in his scalp from where Draco held him fast. Then he closed the distance between their faces.

Boys’ lips shouldn’t be so soft, was Harry’s first coherent thought. The combination of pumpkin juice and liquorice in another person’s mouth shouldn’t taste so good, was his last, as Draco’s tongue slid tentatively against his.

And with that, Harry lost his battle with self-control and collapsed across Draco, pressing the other boy back onto his elbows.

“Ow, ow, ow, Pawffrr!” Draco tried to say with his tongue firmly held between Harry’s lips.

Harry quickly sat up, completely disoriented and suddenly embarrassed. Without Harry’s hands to support him, Draco fell back and clunked his head heavily against the stone floor.

“Ow.” Draco remained where he was, supine against the cold stone. Harry stretched out beside him. “Potter?”

Harry turned onto his side and raised himself up onto his elbow. Draco’s eyes stared up at the vaulted ceiling. Slowly and carefully, Harry began tracing the scars on Draco’s chest with the fingers of his other hand. “Huh?”

“Do you think it’s possible for us to do anything together without injuring each other?”

Harry stifled a snort of laughter and looked at Draco’s flushed face, then reached for his hooded jacket. He balled it up and placed it under Draco’s head. His smile faded as he brought his mouth to Draco’s once again, lips barely touching, but tongues reaching out to meet one another. Short, soft kisses were exchanged, as if each were testing the resistance of the other not to give in to a more reckless and messy pursuit. Competing, even in this.

Harry continued stroking Draco’s chest languidly, his hand trailing across scarred flesh, smooth flesh, a firm nipple. Draco placed a hand against Harry’s back and it mirrored Harry’s stroking.

Neither boy moved, as yet, with any more intent other than exploration. The soft and unhurried kisses continued, still little more than the briefest brush of lips and the hesitant touching of tongues.

Then Harry’s hand found its way to the bulge which had appeared in Draco’s trousers, and he gently rubbed it. Stretching himself further out alongside the blond boy, Harry shifted the position of his head and ran his tongue along the scars on Draco’s chest.

In no time, Draco’s hips were pushing up against Harry’s hand, finally grasping it with his own and pressing Harry’s palm hard against his body. Harry’s rhythm increased and soon Draco was panting into Harry’s hair, his other hand clutching at Harry’s t-shirt.

Draco’s panting caused his chest to rise and fall more rapidly and Harry had to lean in to keep his lips and tongue connected to the other boy’s skin. His body now sprawled across Draco’s as he tasted, kissed and stroked, with Draco quickly losing all control beneath him.

With a small cry, Draco tensed and Harry raised his head to watch the pale face; Draco yanked at his fistful of Harry’s shirt as he came, warm fluid spurting into his clothing under Harry’s hand, still trapped below Draco’s own.

Harry leaned up and kissed him again as Draco wound down. “God, that was hot,” Harry said without thinking when they came up for air.

Draco blushed, but clearly he enjoyed the compliment nonetheless. “Yeah. And now it’s uncomfortable.” He squirmed until Harry grabbed him around the waist and pulled Draco against him once again.

“Yes it is,” he whispered and rocked against Draco’s thigh.

Draco smirked at Harry’s discomfort. “Now what, Potter?” he asked.

Harry’s rocking increased in pressure and he gasped into Draco’s ear. “Now I really want to come, Malfoy. All over your chest.” He lifted his gaze and watched as Draco’s smirk disappeared to be replaced first by an expression of shock and then by one of lurid fascination.

“Gods, Potter,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You really are twisted, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, sitting up and throwing a leg over Draco’s waist. “It’s not my fault that you’re the sexiest bloke I’ve ever known.” Harry was getting so desperate for relief, he nearly finished himself off against Draco’s probably oversensitive groin.

Draco stopped him from doing so by placing his hands on Harry’s hips and holding him fast. “Easy, Potter,” he said, his silver eyes darkening. Harry looked down at him, lusty and not a little frustrated. “Take off your shirt,” Draco commanded.

Harry smiled and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He leaned down and gave Draco a sloppy kiss, then sat back up and hurriedly unbuttoned his jeans.

The moment he finished, one of Draco’s hands found its way into Harry’s pants. Harry gasped and threw back his head with a loud groan. “Fuck, Malfoy...”

“Me? The sexiest bloke you know?” Draco said conversationally. “Not Charlie Weasley, then?” He idly stroked Harry’s cock.

The tempo which Draco set was too slow and Harry made his displeasure known by thrusting his hips forward and back at a quicker pace. “Please,” he gasped.

With that, Draco reached out with his other hand and grasped Harry by the wrist. He released Harry’s cock and pulled Harry’s hand down to take its place. “Take over, Potter. I want to watch.” He lay back and clasped his hands together behind his head (which still lay on Harry’s hoodie), looking, for all the world, like he was relaxing on a sofa in his common room.

Half an hour ago, Harry might have died of embarrassment, but by now he wasn’t in the least bothered by the fact that Draco was watching him wank on top of him. If anything, it had the opposite effect.

Draco upped the ante. He removed an arm from behind his head and began lazily stroking his chest. “I bet Charlie doesn’t have scars like these,” he purred.

Harry had to fight not to lose it. “Bloody hell.” He threw himself forward, bracing himself above Draco with his left hand as the other quickened its pace up and down on his cock.

Draco’s fingertips brushed over his own scars and pale nipples. “But you didn’t give these to him, did you? Just to me. Just me, Harry.”

It was the use of his given name that tipped Harry over the edge. He gratefully released a strangled moan and fell forward across Draco’s body, semen pumping out of him, between them, and onto Draco’s chest and shoulders.

Harry barely managed to hold himself up, chest heaving, sweaty fringe threatening to add to the fluid already spilt, as Draco reached down and retrieved Harry’s t-shirt. Whilst Harry caught his breath, Draco used the shirt to wipe the cooling semen off of himself. It was only when he haphazardly discarded it that Harry noticed what he’d used.

“Oi, that’s my shirt,” he mumbled, wondering if Draco would mind if he collapsed on top of him. Concluding that he would, Harry sat up, still breathing heavily, but smiling despite his tone.

“You got come on mine,” Draco indicated his own stained shirt. “I think it’s only fair that I use yours for the same purpose.”

“Give me back my hoodie, then.” Harry leaned forward and reached out to where it lay beneath Draco’s blond head.

Draco grasped Harry by the shoulders and clasped him to his body. Harry, losing his balance, slumped on top of him. “I think I’ll keep it for awhile,” Draco said in satisfaction. “You’ll be warm enough like this.” He wrapped his arms around Harry.

Harry agreed for the time being and made himself more comfortable, one leg sliding between Draco’s and resting his head in the crook of Draco’s shoulder.

“Mind my leg, Potter,” Draco warned as he lazily began running his fingers up and down Harry’s back.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, grinning into Draco’s hair.

Draco’s hand strayed to Harry’s shoulder blade where he discovered another wound, this one long and deep. “Oh, what’s this? Has someone else had their claws in you?” Draco lightly caressed the scar.

“Yes,” said Harry sourly. “Crookshanks — Hermione’s bloody cat.”

2 I'll Show You More

Draco felt dusty, sticky, hungry, and completely out of sorts. He had fallen asleep with Harry Potter lying atop him and awakened to the sound of rock grinding against rock.

They had leaped to their feet and huddled against the far wall while McGonagall and the others forced their way into the space, calling to see if he and Potter were all right.

There had been no time for conversation after that. Granger and Weasley had shoved their way into the space and pounced on Potter, clinging like kittens, while Pansy had done the same to Draco.

"Oh, my poor baby!" she cooed. "You could have been killed!"

Draco didn't miss Potter's snort at Pansy's endearment; the prat had more than enough evidence to know that Draco had no interest in her, or any other female. Some of that evidence was stuck to Potter's t-shirt like dried glue.

Potter was pulled out of the demolished space by his friends without a backward glance at Draco, who limped to the Hospital Wing in order to have his grievous wound (well, maybe it was just a scratch) tended. It was nearly midnight. McGonagall and the others had certainly taken their time with the rescue effort.

"What happened?" Pansy asked, perching on the end of his bed whilst Pomfrey waved her wand over Draco's injury.

"The floor collapsed, obviously. Potter and I were nearly crushed. Of course the idiot lost his wand in the excitement. He can kill the Dark Lord, but not manage to hang onto his wand in a school corridor." Draco shook his head in disgust. "This building is unsafe. I should…" The words "write to my father about this" died before he could utter them. He frowned, realising he could never again complain to his father about anything that happened at Hogwarts. His father was no longer on the Board of Governors. His father had no power at all.

"Yes, but what happened after that?" Pansy asked.

Draco kept his stare fixed on Pomfrey's wand, watching his flesh knit together. He doubted it would even leave a scar, more was the pity, since Potter seemed fascinated by scars. Draco forced back a blush, remembering how their game of "show me your scars" had led to so much more.

"Nothing. Potter and I bickered and then we fell asleep."

He glanced sidelong at Pansy to find her watching him suspiciously. So far, Draco had managed to keep an arm or hand strategically placed to hide the small stain left on his trousers from where Potter had made him come in his pants. Luckily, the trousers were black, so he wasn't certain if even Pansy's eyes could detect the residue, but to Draco it stood out like a beacon. Not for the first time, he wished his new wand would arrive. Either that, or that Potter would stop being a git and give back his old one.

"There, Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey said at last. "Good as new. You may return to your dormitory now."

"Thank you," Draco said and then followed Pansy as she sprang to her feet and tugged him along.

"I don't believe you, Draco," Pansy said. "I can tell when you're hiding something."

"Let it go, Pans. I was trapped with Potter. It was a nightmare and I plan to forget the entire incident. I suggest you do the same."

Later, however, after a quick bath and lying in bed with the curtains drawn, Draco had no intention of forgetting the incident. He replayed it over and over in his mind while he stroked his erection, remembering the taste of Potter on his lips and the feel of him on his body as he came.

He wondered if Potter did the same, or if he planned to forget what they had shared. Just because he thought Draco was worth a grope while trapped and bored did not mean he planned to come out to his friends and admit what they had done.

Draco swore, realising he had no way of cleaning up the mess on his stomach without a wand. He would write to his mother first thing in the morning and ask when his replacement wand was due to arrive. Draco and his parents had ordered new wands from a maker in France, but each one was bespoke and took several weeks to craft. The constant borrowing of wands from his Slytherin cohorts in class was getting old.

xxxxx

The next day was Saturday, so Draco's "first thing in the morning" was closer to noon. By the time he dressed, wrote out a message, and sent it away to his mother by owl, it was past lunchtime. Draco made his way to the Great Hall and his eyes sought out the Gryffindor table. He was not disappointed to find Potter missing. Not at all; he merely missed the opportunity to smirk at him.

Pansy and Blaise were dawdling through their meals, as usual. Blaise remained as fit as he was by eating his food more slowly than it took to brew Polyjuice Potion. He was seldom finished when the plates were cleared away.

Draco sat down and filled his plate. He was famished; he and Potter had missed dinner the night before.

"I haven't seen the Saviour this morning," Pansy commented. "Do you think he's avoiding you?"

"Why would he be avoiding me?" Draco asked casually, ignoring the spike of anxiety caused by her words. WasPotter avoiding him?

"You tell me. You were trapped with him for several hours last night."

"I told you, nothing happened." Draco made a show of carefully buttering his bread, cursing when Pansy made a disbelieving huff next to him.

"Please. I've seen you stare at Potter's arse more times than I've seen you eat sweets."

Draco glared at her. That was simply not true! Draco loved sweets and she had witnessed him eating them thousands of times during the past seven years. Draco's fixation with Potter's arse was a relatively recent development. "That is a blatant lie," he snapped.

"So is your assertion that nothing happened," Pansy retorted. "Why was Potter not wearing a shirt?"

"I don't know! Perhaps he was warm. We nearly ran out of air down there! It was dreadful."

"Too much panting for breath?" Blaise suggested.

"You are both wretched. I am going to eat in my room." Draco glared at them, filled his plate, and flounced out of the hall and back to his dorm. He refused to admit to a single thing without corroboration from Potter and since the prat seemed to be avoiding him, it appeared their little secret was due to remain just that. Draco sighed and pushed his plate of food away, his appetite waning. Stupid Potter.

xxxxxx

Draco should never have let his guard down. He blamed Potter for making him preoccupied, lost in musings and memories all afternoon, and lounging on his bed under the guise of "doing homework".

Pansy and Blaise had lurked on Blaise's bed for several hours, but no additional mention of Potter had been forthcoming as they had gossiped about the latest Hogwarts news, which should have made Draco even warier. He should have guessed Pansy had little interest in who was shagging who in Ravenclaw Tower; she and Blaise had simply been keeping tabs on Draco whilst the plot was hatched.

Draco pulled at his bonds. His glare should have worked as a Stunner, so potent was his rage. "You traitor!" he shouted at Pansy.

Pansy shrugged from her perch on Blaise's bed. "You're the one who drank from my glass. Since when did you become so trusting, Draco? What has happened to you?"

Draco snarled, inwardly cursing himself. She was right, of course. Draco had only left the room one time, to eat dinner in the Great Hall. Once again, Harry Potter had not appeared, and Draco had seethed with a dark rage. He had stormed back to his room in a snit, and yelled at his friends each time they'd dared to pop their heads in the door.

Pansy and Blaise had migrated to the common room, giggling and acting like fools as they drank from a bottle of Firewhisky that Blaise's mother had smuggled to him.

Pansy had staggered in drunkenly at one point and sprawled on Draco's bed, nearly spilling her glass all over Draco's abdomen. "Come join the party, Draco. Don't be a stick in the mud."

She had appeared—appeared—to take a gulp, and then offered it to Draco. He had been stupid enough to snatch it from her and drain the contents in a single swallow, deciding simultaneously that she obviously did not need any more and a jolt of alcohol might dull his memories of Potter and his cowardly need to hide. The aftertaste had hit him at the same moment as her smirk.

Before he could react, Theo Nott had stepped through the door and cast a Binding Charm, effectively tying Draco to the bed. Blaise had sauntered back into the room, along with Millicent Bulstrode, and the four of them had weathered Draco's shouts of rage and threats of revenge.

In the end, however, it was Theo who had cut through Draco's anger. "Leave them alone, Draco. This is between you and me. They are only here for the show."

"Pansy drugged me," Draco insisted, giving her a stare that promised future retribution.

"She owed me," Theo replied. He had pulled up a chair and Transfigured it into something that looked soft and comfortable before sinking into it. With a queasy feeling, Draco realised he meant to stay awhile.

"What do you want?" Draco asked.

"Nothing much," Theo replied. "We simply want to know what transpired between you and Potter last night."

Draco yanked furiously at his bonds and cursed again.

"Really, Draco, you could have avoided this by just telling us." Pansy's voice was reasonable, but Draco was in no mood to hear it.

"There is nothing—" His words choked off. He could not finish the sentence, try though he might. Fucking hell. Veritaserum.

"Do you hate Harry Potter, Draco?" Theo asked in a conversational tone.

"Y—No!" At Theo's smug look, Draco glared between Pansy and Blaise. "If you two let me go right now, I will let you live."

Pansy looked at her nails. "I don't know what you mean, Draco. I'm just here studying with Blaise and Millie. Your argument with Theo is not our business. Millie, what do you have for the answer to question six?"

Millicent, currently seated on the floor with her back against Blaise's bed, obediently opened a scroll she carried. "Yak hair," she replied.

"Oh good. That's what I have, too," Pansy said.

"Very funny. Theo, I already apologized for that incident," Draco said, a bit desperately.

"Yes, you apologized and I vowed revenge. Consider this my revenge." Theo always got revenge. Draco deeply regretted selling that Sixth-year Ravenclaw photos of Theo dancing in the shower. Very deeply regrettedat the moment.

"Point taken. Theo, if you release me I will give you my ermine cloak. I know you've always liked that one. And…" Draco winced, but it had to hurt or it would be worthless and Theo would know it. "And my dragonhide boots."

Pansy gasped and Theo's eyes widened. Avarice gleamed within. Draco loved those boots. They had been custom-crafted in Morocco from the hide of a rare Egyptian Emerald dragon. They were such a dark green as to be nearly black, except in certain kinds of light, when they practically glowed with pearlescent emerald fire.

Disappointment warred with greed on Theo's visage and then he snorted. "Nice try, but they won't fit me. Your tiny little damsel feet are much smaller than mine."

Damn it. Draco had hoped Theo would leap at the offer before thinking it through. "My feet are delicate!" he protested and then felt smug when it appeared his words were true.

"Bribe rejected," Theo said. "You were exploring a bit of the castle with Harry Potter last night, were you not?"

"Under orders from the Headmistress to search for areas that need re-warding," Draco replied, trying not to sound too desperate. "It was not my choice!"

"Of course not. But you were not exactly upset about it, were you?"

Draco mulled over the question, looking for a loophole. "I was not upset," he replied. Stupid bloody Theo and his stupid bloody intention to become a barrister.

"In fact, one might say you were glad to be assigned to Harry Potter, is that correct?"

"One might say anything," Draco retorted, feeling smug when Theo frowned.

"Were you pleased to be with Harry Potter last night?" Theo demanded.

"Yes," Draco answered, hissing his reply. Fucking Theo. Draco looked around frantically for a wand, and discovered Pansy's was still resting on Draco's bedside table where she had dropped it while pretending to be drunk. Wandless magic, he decided. There is a first time for everything.

"What is the first thing you said when you realised you were trapped with Potter?" Theo asked.

"I don't remember!" Draco said truthfully, but his mind was already scrambling through a serum-induced fog, searching for a better answer, which flooded out in a burst of words. "Something about wondering if they would find us, or possibly complaining about my injury."

"And what did Potter say to that?"

"He told me to stop being melodramatic," Draco said. Accio Pansy's wand, he thought. Accio wand! Accio!

Millie laughed and Draco frowned at her, more for breaking his concentration than for displaying such traitorous behaviour.

"That sounds like Potter," Blaise said.

"What did you say to that, Draco?" Theo asked.

"I told him my leg was sore and it was still bleeding. Which it was. Can we stop this foolish questioning now?"

"What did Potter say, then?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "He said it was a scratch."

"Potter should know about scratches," Millie said. "He's been wounded enough times."

"Whose side are you on, Millie?" Draco asked petulantly. She shrugged.

"And then you replied that you were grievously injured, correct?" Theo asked. Draco's eyes narrowed as he looked at him, thinking that either Theo knew him too well, or perhaps Draco's methods were becoming obvious. He was not given time to consider which was more likely before the potion made him respond.

"Yes."

"And then Potter did what?"

"He said something stupid and showed me the scar on his arm that he received when he was sliced open to bring Voldemort back to life." Draco intentionally used the name to see them all wince, but it was a minor satisfaction. If Theo kept on with his dogged line of questioning, Draco's secret would be revealed. "And then he said he didn't fancy Ron." It was Draco's turn to wince and he tried harder to Summon Pansy's wand so that he could cut out his own tongue.

Theo laughed. "And why did Potter offer up that titbit of information?"

"Because I accused him of fancying Weasley over his sister."

"So, Potter does not fancy Ron Weasley?"

"No."

"Who does he fancy?"

Me, me, me, me, me. The word struggled to escape past Draco's lips, but he fought it back and choked out, "Charlie Weasley!" To his relief, the compulsion eased immediately, appeased by Draco's utterance of the truth. He thanked Salazar that Potter had divulged that, at least.

"Charlie Weasley," Theo repeated, sounding disappointed. Blaise snickered.

"Do you fancy Charlie Weasley, Draco?"

"Fuck you, Theo!" Draco burst out and then added, "A bit."

Blaise collapsed in peals of laughter and only Draco's venomous glare kept Pansy from doing the same, although her teeth were firmly clamped into her lower lip and amusement shone from her dark eyes.

"Accio wand!" Draco hissed, stretching his bound hand as far as it would reach. Pansy's wand trembled, but did not move more than a fraction.

"Who wouldn't fancy Charlie Weasley?" Millicent asked. "That bloke is fit."

"I wouldn't!" Theo said and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Let's hear you say that under Veritaserum," Draco growled.

"You and Potter discussed the merits of Charlie Weasley?" Theo asked, ignoring him.

Draco frowned. The answer was not a simple yes or no, and could therefore be answered in a vague manner. "Not really."

"What did Potter say about Charlie Weasley, then?"

"Potter said he bet Charlie Weasley has some nice scars." Draco winced, feeling somehow traitorous to Potter, except that Potter had ignored Draco all day and deserved to be outed because of his lust for ginger dragon tamers.

"Potter has a thing for scars?" Theo sounded surprised.

"Apparently," Draco replied, not really knowing if it was true or not. Perhaps Potter had been faking his fascination for Draco's sake. "We did not discuss Potter's kinks." Not specifically, at any rate.

"Pity," Theo said. Pansy sighed and nodded. Draco pulled at his bonds, wondering how much Veritaserum they had fed him. How long did it normally last? Ten minutes per drop?

"Where did you get the Veritaserum?" Draco asked, realising he needed to take the offensive and start stalling.

"I've had it," Theo replied. "My uncle died last winter and my aunt and I sorted his things. He had a rather extensive potion collection. My aunt sold most of them, but I snatched a few before she could pawn them."

"It's a bit precious to waste on such a trivial thing, don't you think?"

"Revenge is never trivial, Draco. Don't you know that by now?"

"Yes," Draco replied regretfully.

"Did Harry Potter touch you while you two were trapped last night?" Theo asked.

Draco blanched. "Yes."

"Where?"

The memory of Potter's hands skating over him tumbled through Draco's mind, each image willing to spew out in a declaration. "My arm!"

Theo frowned. "Your arm? Why?"

"He asked to touch my Dark Mark."

Blaise rolled over onto his stomach, staring at Draco raptly while he chuckled. "Oh my, this gets better and better. First Potter has a thing for scars and now he has a Dark Mark kink. Pansy, are you taking notes?"

"Please, like I'll ever forget any of this," she said.

"I'm taking notes," said Millie, who had been scratching randomly on the scroll during Draco's interrogation.

"What did he say when he touched your Dark Mark?" Theo asked.

"He asked if it hurt."

The others were silent and none of them met Draco's eyes, already knowing the answer to that question. Each of them knew someone who had been marked; it was not something they talked about.

"Did you touch Potter, in return?" Theo asked after a moment.

"I touched his scar," Draco said and winced. He tried not to recall the feel of Potter's soft hair, the way it had caressed the back of Draco's hand when he'd pushed aside Potter's fringe to expose the famous scar.

"You touched his scar?" Millie's tone was awed and Draco blinked at her.

"Yes. Millicent, I had no idea you were a Potter worshipper."

"What happened then, Draco?" Theo asked, dragging Draco's attention from the scowling Millie.

"Potter asked to see my other scars," Draco said, fighting every word.

"What other scars?"

"The ones on my chest."

Pansy was staring at Draco with rapt attention. She was the only one in the room who even knew Draco was scarred.

"How did you get—?"

"No, Theo!" Pansy cried. "Not that story."

Theo gave her a petulant look. "You're willing to expose whatever he did with Potter last night, but won't let him tell about some scars?"

She shook her head. "It was sixth year, Theo. Sixth year."

Draco drew in a shuddering breath, feeling stupidly grateful to her, even though he still wanted to give her a Stinging Hex she would feel until she was thirty. She knew what he had gone through that terrible year, but not even she knew the whole of it. She did not know about the Vanishing Cabinet, and only a bit of what had transpired atop the Astronomy Tower. Even so, everyone knew Draco had some culpability in the death of Dumbledore. Even Theo wouldn't stoop so low as to dredge up those memories.

Draco hoped.

"Fine," Theo snapped. "You Hufflepuffs." Draco nearly cringed, knowing he could expect no further mercy from Theo Nott. The next question solidified that knowledge. "Did Potter touch the mysterious scarson your chest, Draco?"

"Yes." Draco knew his tone was petulant, but he didn't care. He was feeling petulant. He knew what was coming and decided he would have to make the best of it, since his traitorous friends were not going to help. "Pansy, Blaise, I hate you both." He felt a bit smug that the words were true, at least at this particular moment.

"What about me?" Millie asked.

"I'm not even sure why you're here, Millie," Draco replied.

"Theo said something about Potter…" she muttered.

Pansy laughed. "Millie, you do have a crush on Potter!"

"I don't!" she protested. Draco glared at her. "I just think he's fit! And he isn't skin and bones anymore. Have you seen those shoulders?"

The Veritaserum took that as a direct question and forced Draco to answer. "Yes, I have seen Potter's shoulders."

"Have you touched them?" Millie asked.

"Yes," Draco replied, possibly a bit superior, as Theo snapped, "I am asking the questions!"

"Did you kiss Potter?" Millie demanded rebelliously, giving Theo a sidelong glance and cocking a brow at him. Apparently, Theo had no blackmail material on Millicent. That was good to know. Of course, that thought only dimly registered through Draco's panic.

"Yes," he murmured.

"Did you say yes?" Theo asked.

"Yes!" Draco burst out. "I kissed Potter. Okay? Are we finished here?"

"I knew it!" Pansy cried.

Millicent's eyes were huge and round. "How was it?"

Draco groaned.

"Damn it, Millie, do I need to cast a Silencing Charm on you?"

"It was brilliant," Draco replied, face flaming. "And painful," he added quickly.

"Painful?" Theo asked.

"The git leaned on my injured leg and then he let go and I hit my head on the floor." It was almost comical in hindsight, until Draco remembered Potter wadding up his hooded jacket and placing it gently beneath Draco's head for a pillow.

"Was there more kissing after that?" Blaise asked.

Draco glanced at him, to find Blaise staring at him in rapt attention. Blaise always had been a pervert. "Yes," Draco replied reluctantly.

"What happened after the kissing?" Theo asked.

Draco's brain scrambled, but there were plenty of answers to choose from. "We were rescued!" he said triumphantly.

Pansy made a wail of disappointment, but Blaise scoffed.

Theo seemed to join Blaise's sentiment. "What happened immediately after you hit your head on the floor?"

Draco's cheeks burned. "Potter touched the scars on my chest again," he admitted.

"And then?" Theo prompted.

"I asked him if it were possible for us to do anything together without hurting one another."

"And then there was more kissing?" Theo asked.

"Yes," Draco whispered.

"And Potter was still touching your chest?"

"Yes." Draco tried not to think about how Potter's hand had trailed up and down his torso, tweaking a nipple and then sliding downwards.

"Were you touching Potter?"

"Yes, I was touching his back."

"Were you both still dressed?"

"Potter's jacket was off and my shirt was unbuttoned."

"What happened after that?"

Draco knew he wouldn't get away with a flippant answer this time, plus the memory was having an effect on him. He shifted position and lifted one leg, hoping to hide his developing erection, which sprang to life at his next words. "Potter put his hand on my crotch."

Millie drew in a breath. Draco trained his eyes on the far wall, where Greg had tacked a poster of Falmouth Falcon's Seeker, Earl Broadmoor, sometime in their fourth year. Broadmoor flew out of the picture after giving Draco a wink.

"On top of your trousers, or underneath?" Theo asked.

"On top."

"How did it feel?" Despite Theo's attempt at cool indifference, his voice was rough. Draco risked a glance and frowned. Theo's stupidly soft chair hid most of him from exposure, but Draco would bet the bastard was turned on right now.

"How do you think it felt?" Draco countered. "It was a hand on my cock. It felt great."

"Even though it was Potter? Or because it was Potter?"

"Because. I fucking hate you, Theo." Draco's voice was like acid.

"I knew you had a thing for Potter!" Blaise said.

"Only because I told you," Pansy grumbled.

"Did Potter unfasten your trousers?" Theo asked.

"No," Draco said.

"No?"

"No," Draco repeated, blushing when he remembered thrusting shamelessly into Potter's hand, whimpering at the feel of his warm palm cupping Draco's cock. Draco had gripped Potter's hand and helped him along, increasing the pressure and the speed, controlling each stroke as Potter rubbed at Draco through the fabric.

"Did you come?"

"Yes," Draco snapped. He was fully hard now and his cock twitched at the memory of coming in his pants, urged to orgasm by Harry Potter barely even touching him.

"Salazar," Millie whispered.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you could have at least made him shove his hand into your knickers," Blaise burst out.

"What did Potter say about that?" Theo asked.

"He said, 'God, that was hot,'" Draco admitted and smirked.

"And what did he do then?"

"He frotted against my thigh." Draco's smirk widened at the thought of Potter's jean-clad cock rutting against his leg. His smirk faltered at the realisation that his palms were sweating and he was dying to touch himself.

"Did he say anything else?"

"He said he wanted to come. All over my chest."

Millie moaned and Pansy made a squeaking noise that drew Draco's attention. Her eyes were wide and enraptured. Blaise was silent, jaw gaping, and Draco felt a flare of glee that he'd managed to silence the prat. "And then Potter admitted I was the sexiest bloke he'd ever known."

Silence met that statement and Draco basked in the knowledge that they knew he wasn't lying, thanks to the Veritaserum.

"And then he straddled my waist," Draco continued, not bothering to wait for Theo's question. The tide had turned and now Draco was in control. He had already been humiliated; adding the final details would make little difference, except to Draco's rapt audience. "I told him to take off his shirt, so he did. He threw his shirt aside and unzipped his jeans. I shoved a hand inside and took hold of his prick."

Millie made a gasping sound, muffled by her hand. There was no more note-taking, Draco noticed.

"Potter said, 'Fuck, Malfoy' and I stroked him slowly, teasing him. You should have seen him, shirt off, head thrown back, watching me through eyes like slits. The hero of the world, sitting in my lap, practically gagging for it, wanting more."

There was silence but for the sound of rapid breathing.

"And then I took Potter's hand, placed it on his own cock, and told him to take over," Draco said without bothering to disguise his smug tone.

"You did not!" Blaise burst out.

"Oh yes, I did. And Potter did, as well. The Chosen One wanked while I put my hands behind my head and watched. Every. Stroke."

Draco stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles, not caring that his erection was fully visible. He grinned when every eye fixed on his crotch. His shoulders burned like mad and his hands were growing numb from the bonds, but he had them all in his thrall, so he could live with the pain. He had never imagined that reliving an encounter could be so satisfying, but it was titillating as hell… except for the pressure on his cock. If his hands were free, he would be stroking himself, audience be damned.

He shook off his discomfort and returned his thoughts to the night before. The memory was clear as crystal in his mind. Potter's cock red and thick, the head nearly disappearing into Potter's grip with each upstroke, only to reappear, glistening at the tip, begging for Draco to touch it… or taste it.

"What…?" Theo cleared his throat. "What happened then?"

Of course, then Draco had trailed a hand over his own chest and practically thankedPotter for marking his chest with scars. And Draco had called him "Harry".

"He came all over my chest," Draco whispered. Draco's cock twitched, desperate to come at the mere memory of Potter's hot fluid splashing over his skin, recalling the sight of Potter's body taut and quivering, the touch of his hand, the taste of his lips.

"Fuck," Millie said hoarsely.

"No, we didn't do that," Draco replied. "I wiped myself clean with his shirt."

Blaise laughed aloud. "Bloody hell, Draco, you have balls of iron. Not that Potter got to see them, the poor bloke. He didn't, did he?"

"No," Draco replied, somewhat regretfully.

"Would you let Potter fuck you, Draco?" Theo asked, obviously attempting to regain control.

Draco hesitated. For a moment, just a moment, he felt like he could deny it. The Veritaserum was weakening. He tried, but the word, "Yes" slipped out instead of the negative. Damn it!

"In fact, you would probably let Potter do just about anything to you, wouldn't you, Draco?"

"Fuck you, Theo, and fuck your Veritaserum! You are such a bastard! Yes. Yes, damn you to hell!"

Theo looked pleased. He got to his feet. "I think we've tortured Draco enough for one day, don't you?"

"Finally! Are you going to release me? My arms feel like they are on fire."

"Not quite yet," Theo said. "Millie, are you coming?"

"God, I think I already have." She coughed. "I mean, yeah, okay. Thanks, Draco, that was… really hot."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Anytime, Millie, just come see me and I'll entertain you with another sexual exploit."

"Really?" she asked, eyes wide.

"No, not really!" he shouted, but then realised he had just told a blatant lie. Thank Salazar, it had finally worn off.

Pansy climbed off of Blaise's bed. "Come on, Blaise. We had better make ourselves scarce. He's going to be in a rage for a few hours. Or days."

She took Blaise's hand and dragged him from the room.

"Don't think I'll forget this!" Draco yelled after them.

"I don't think you'll have much time to plot vengeance," Theo said with a wicked grin when the door closed behind the others.

"Why not?"

Theo reached out with a hand and grasped a fistful of nothing. He made a pulling motion and something shimmered in the air and then fell away to reveal Harry Potter, immobile and staring at Draco. His black hair stuck up at all angles, crackling with electricity from the cloak's removal. The invisibility cloak fell to the floor as Theo pulled out his wand.

"Finite Incantatum!" Theo cried and then opened and shut the door in a flash. He was gone.

Potter nearly toppled forwards before he righted himself. He glared at Draco and his hands patted at his clothing, blatantly seeking his wand. Draco stared at him, horrified.

"Potter. You were…?" Draco groaned. Theo. Theo was dead. Theo was a walking Inferius, because Draco was going to kill him and resurrect him only to kill him again.

"Here the whole time?" Potter asked, completing Draco's question. "Yes. Yes, I was, thanks to that bloody Nott. He took my wand!" Potter turned and started for the door, throwing over his shoulder a quick, "Sorry he did such a horrible thing to you. I'm going to kill him."

Potter had his hand on the latch when Draco found his voice. "Potter!"

He turned and looked at Draco, who swallowed, feeling horribly vulnerable tied to his own bed and knowing that Potter had heard… well, all the things he had heard.

"Would you mind releasing these bonds?" Draco asked politely.

"I don't have my wand, Malfoy."

Bloody hell, how did he expect Potter to let him loose? Draco should have let him escape while wallowing in his misery in peace. Pansy would free him eventually. "Yes. Right. Never mind, then. Carry on. Goodnight, Potter."

Instead of turning the door handle, Potter's hand fell away from the latch. He cocked his head and took two steps towards Draco. "You know, you look… really hot right now."

Draco squirmed and quickly lifted one of his legs again to hide his erection, which had flagged a bit until Potter's words sent the blood sliding downward once more.

"I… Stay back, Potter!" he warned.

Potter took two more steps, looking like a predatory lion. "You know, I was really angry with Nott for bringing me here, and what they did to you was completely evil. But…"

"But?" Draco asked breathlessly.

Potter reached the bed and climbed onto it before crawling forwards slowly. He touched Draco's knee and nudged. Draco obediently opened up and allowed Potter to slide between his legs. "Butit was really amazing listening to you retell what we did last night. I thought I was going to explode, being so turned on and yet unable to move. Fucking Nott had me in a Full-body Bind and a Silencing Charm. He attacked me in my own room. I wasn't expecting that."

Potter's hand dropped to Draco's crotch and he pressed down upon Draco's erection before stroking it with his fingers. Draco's breath caught.

"I think I want to see it this time," Potter said and used his other hand to tug at the buttons holding Draco's trousers together.

Draco thought he might hyperventilate. He stared, riveted, as Potter opened his trousers, tugged them down gently, and then pulled down Draco's silk pants to expose his eager cock. A drop of precome oozed from the tip; Draco was so hard he was afraid he might come at Potter's next touch.

"Looks delicious," Potter whispered and then bent down to lick it.

Draco bit his lip on a howl as he threw his head back and came, hard, all over Potter's lips. His head snapped down and he stared as he felt Potter lapping at him, licking him clean. Potter caught his eye and wrinkled his nose.

"Well, it's notdelicious, but I'd rather keep my shirt clean this time."

Draco snorted, but the sound turned into a shaky moan when Potter continued to lick at him, sucking and slurping at Draco's cock until he started to feel turned on again. He couldn't possibly get hard so soon, could he?

"So, you would let me do just about anything to you, isn't that what you said, Draco?" Potter asked, finally leaving off his cleaning duties and moving forwards until his lips were nearly touching Draco's.

"Veritaserum, Potter," Draco said, rather than admit it again.

"Mmmm, good to know," Potter said and kissed him. It was a rather unpleasant kiss. Potter had not been wrong about the taste, but it quickly dissipated in a flood of other flavours.

Potter kissed Draco for long moments, rocking atop him, stopping only when Draco made a sound of discomfort.

"Your arms must hurt like mad. Whose wand is that?"

Draco's brain must have been severely damaged, because it took a few moments for the question to register. By then, Potter had climbed off and snatched up the wand from the bedside table. "Pansy's," Draco said in amazement. The cow had forgotten it.

"Finite Incantatum!" Potter said, swishing it at Draco's bonds, which immediately tightened.

"Potter!" Draco yelped.

"Sorry, it doesn't seem to like me. Finite Incantatum!" He was more careful this time, giving it a little less swish and a bit more flick. The magical bonds slowly, reluctantly, crept away from Draco's arms and then vanished. Draco lowered his limbs with a moan of pained relief.

"Want me to massage them for you?" Potter asked solicitously, plopping back onto Draco's lap. Without encouragement, he began to squeeze and caress at Draco's cramped muscles, working up and down his arms from shoulders to fingertips. All the while, Draco could feel Potter's cock against his abdomen. It obviously needed some attention.

"Want me to massage something for you?" Draco offered.

Potter's breath caught. "God, yes."

Draco unzipped Potter's jeans.

The door opened and Pansy stuck her head through the gap. "Did I leave my wand in here?" she asked.

The spell took a chunk of wood out of the door above her head and Pansy shrieked and slammed the door. Several Locking Charms followed. Draco cocked a brow at Potter, impressed.

"Her wand seems to be working fine for you now," Draco commented.

"We've come to an understanding," Harry said. "Shall we continue?" He dropped Pansy's wand next to Draco and then stood up to shimmy out of his jeans and pants. "I know you meant what you said about… Because of the Veritaserum. But we can do it the other way, if you prefer."

Draco swallowed, unsure how many more shocks he could take. Was Potter seriously offering to let Draco fuck him?

"I would love to, Potter, but I'm not sure I'm quite up for it. Yet." Despite its near-miraculous willingness to stand at attention for Potter, Draco's cock was not fully hard. He would rather not embarrass himself by attempting to fuck Potter and failing, although the mere thought of it provided a boost. Perhaps he could, after all?

Potter nodded with a serious expression. "Then we'll do it this way. If that's okay?" Potter followed his question with a gentle trailing of his fingers over Draco's balls. He moved them lower and Draco shifted his hips to give him better access. Draco's body certainly thought it was okay. Anything involving more Potterwas acceptable.

"Fine," Draco replied, albeit a bit grudgingly. He might be eager, but there was no need to be obvious. Draco chose to ignore his wanton pose and the fact that he was ready to impale himself on Potter's fingers if he would only move them a bit closer to—there.

Potter made a soft sound as his fingers circled Draco's opening.

"Lube, Potter," Draco said, trying to sound imperious and knowledgeable, but the nearly falsetto squeak of his voice was more reminiscent of a fairy-tale maiden. Thankfully, Potter didn't seem to notice as he fumbled for Pansy's wand again.

"Yes. Right. Um…"

"Allow me," Draco said quickly and took the wand from Potter's hand. Potter had made Pansy's wand obey before, but Draco did not want to chance getting covered in lubricant from head to toe. He tapped Potter's hand and cast.

"Brilliant," Potter said and then reached down to slather it between Draco's arse cheeks. Draco nearly climbed off the bed.

"Cold!" he burst out.

"Shit!" Potter stammered. "I'm sorry! It is a bit cool."

Draco glared at him, not sure if Pansy's wand was getting a bit of revenge. "Next time, do you think you might warm it in your hand first?" Draco suggested.

His words triggered an unexpected response from Potter. His green eyes went wide and soft and a dopey-looking grin caused his features to go puppyish and cute. "Next time," Potter repeated in a whisper.

Draco scowled even though Potter's tone caused Draco's insides to turn a bit melty. "I mean next time ifyou can make this worthwhile."

The Hufflepuffish look fled Potter's face, replaced with an expression Draco had seen dozens of times –unrelenting Gryffindor determination. "Oh, I'll make it worthwhile," Potter promised and pushed his thumb into Draco's arse.

Draco's eyes rolled back into his head as his body fought the intrusion.

"Relax," Potter murmured and caressed Draco's abdomen with his free hand.

"Have you done this before, Potter?" Draco asked, shoving down a spike of annoyance at the thought. He forced his tense muscles to unclench.

Potter chuckled. "No, but Seamus has a porn collection that is awe-inspiring. It spans every possible sex, position, style, and fetish. Some of it was… enlightening"

Enlightening. Draco wondered what sort of fetishes Potter had, other than his scar fixation, but decided now was not the time to ask; he was having a difficult enough time concentrating on anything other than Potter's thumb moving slowly in and out in a way that caused Draco's flagging erection to perk up again.

"Better?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded.

Potter pulled out his thumb and pushed in two fingers. Draco adjusted quickly, assisted by Potter's mouth on his cock. The alternating sensations of Potter's fingers and Potter's tongue left Draco gasping and he thought he might need to thank Theo instead of hexing him next time he saw him.

Then again, there was no need to get carried away.

"Okay?" Potter asked, which unfortunately required him to remove his mouth from Draco's favourite body part.

"Less talk, more fellatio, Potter," Draco said imperiously.

Potter grinned at him rather loopily and Draco smiled back with a curious ache in his chest. Potter looked odd without his glasses and Draco wondered where they had gone. He did not bother to look for them when Potter acceded to Draco's demand. Three fingers replaced two, which made Draco wonder if this whole fuckingbusiness was a good idea.

Before he could voice his concerns, Potter pulled away and then shifted forwards to line up his cock with Draco's prepared hole. A spear of alarm shot through Draco and he lifted a hand to call the whole thing off. Experiment over; time to return to snogging and handjobs, and possibly Potter sucking him off, because, damn.

But then it was too late and Potter was pushing inside and Draco threw his head back with a gasp as his body protested the intrusion. Too much, it was simply too much.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't. Potter stopped, and stared down at Draco. His expression was strange, eyes wide, and pupils huge. His lips were red and looked almost bruised—Draco reflected that anyone who saw Potter would know exactly what he'd been up to, and the fact that he'd been up to it with Draco gave him a rush of satisfaction.

"Draco," Potter said in a breathless tone.

"Harry," Draco returned, not caring if he sounded like a sentimental twat, especially when the name cause Potter to lean down and clamp his lips to Draco's, kissing him for all he was worth. And then Potter began to move, scattering Draco's thoughts to the wind.

It was… good. The intrusive feeling was still there, but overriding it was a growing sensation of pure pleasure, tingling through every stroke, and becoming larger with each pass of Potter's cock over something inside that sent a most amazing jolt through Draco's body. His fingers dug into Potter's skin, urging him faster, deeper.

"So good," Potter mumbled against his lips, his breath coming in quick, harsh gasps. His words mirrored Draco's thoughts, which quickly left good behind and entered the realm of oh yes, oh Salazar, oh bloody fucking amazing.

"Potter," Draco gasped.

"Harry," Potter corrected.

"Harry, fucking, fuck… fuck."

"I am!"

Draco closed his eyes. He certainly was, and it was brilliant. Potter fumbled for Draco's cock, wrapping around Draco's hand, which was already there, and the additional, unexpected touch was enough to send Draco over the edge.

It should have been embarrassing, coming all over Potter's hand, coming undone beneath him, but it wasn't, especially when Potter's eyelids fluttered and his whole body seemed to quiver with tension. It wasn't as explosive as Draco had expected. There was no shouting or spewing of silly endearments. Potter simply inhaled sharply and his body seemed to shiver for a moment or two, and then he collapsed atop Draco in a dead weight, breathing heavily and covering Draco in sweat.

"Ew," Draco said and wrinkled his nose, but he wrapped his arms around Potter and held him in place, just in case his disdain was misconstrued. Potter went still for only a moment, and then he relaxed.

"Ew?" he questioned, sounding amused.

"I need a large fleece to mop up your excessive of bodily fluids," Draco replied.

"Some of those fluids are yours," Potter said.

Draco felt his cheeks heat and was glad that Potter could not see him, as his face was crushed into Draco's neck. "Shut up, Potter."

"Harry."

"Whatever," Draco said, but he did not loosen his grip.

"Planning to keep me here all night?" Potter asked finally.

Draco, feeling remarkably content and drowsy, thought he might be able to sleep for days, especially with Potter right where he was. "No," he replied automatically. "Unless you want to."

"I want to," Potter said. "But don't your housemates need to access their beds?"

"They can sleep elsewhere," Draco decided with a grin. It would serve them right for plotting against him. Even though it seemed to have turned out all right in the end. A thought occurred to Draco just as he shut his eyes and settled in for a nice nap. His eyes snapped open. "Wait, won't yourhousemates have a problem with that?"

As if punctuating Draco's question, a loud pounding sounded on the door.

"Harry, are you in there?" Ron Weasley's voice was loud and strident.

Draco groaned.