1   Avoiding the Possibility

 
Ron deposited the stack of papers onto Draco's desk and received only a snort for his efforts. Without taking his eyes off the parchment he was reading, Draco moved a hand to the stack and straightened them neatly.

When Ron made no motion to leave, Draco looked up at him curiously. "Was there something else, Weasley?"

"You have absolutely no idea, do you?"

Draco huffed in annoyance. "If you have something to say, then out with it. If not, I have work to do."

Ron shook his head sadly. He would have never thought he'd see the day when he'd be playing matchmaker to Draco bloody Malfoy.

"You're either blind or stupid, Malfoy. And as much as I'd like to just say you're stupid and be done with it, I've worked with you long enough to know better."

Pushing his parchment aside, Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This would be the part where you get to your point, Weasel. I don't have time for your cryptic messages. Did I do yet another thing to annoy the magnificent saviour of the universe?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid you have," Ron answered stoically as he conjured a chair and sat in front of Draco's small, but impeccably polished mahogany desk.

"Fuck, Ron! What have I done this time? I've done my best to avoid him. I skip lunch if he's in the lunch hall. I wait until he leaves for the day before going to the Floo. I don't even speak to the man! How could I have possibly done something to irritate him?"

Ron grinned, almost enjoying the anguish in his co-worker's face. "All of the above," he answered.

"What?" Draco looked up from his desk, completely baffled. "How could avoiding him be a problem?"

"Because he eats in the lunch hall alone instead of going out with his friends, hoping you'll be there. He hangs out by the Floo talking to people he has absolutely no interest in, hoping he'll run into you. He goes out of his way to come past your office every morning in the hopes that he'll get here right as you arrive. So yeah, avoiding him is annoying the hell out of him." Ron wanted to laugh at the man's gobsmacked expression, but he was pretty sure that would get him hexed.

"Weasel, are you telling me...?"

"Ten points to Slytherin, Malfoy, although it's rather pathetic that you hadn't figured it out by now. I'm somewhat disappointed in your deductive reasoning skills."

"But I ... he ... when?"

Ron chortled just as the door cracked opened and Harry stuck his head in. "You wanted to see me—" Harry's brow crinkled in confusion. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

"I was just leaving," Ron answered with a grin, tossing a heavy gold key to Draco, who caught it without hesitation. Ron braced his hands on Draco's desk, leaning over to whisper so Harry couldn't hear. "Make him take you someplace nice before you let him pound you through the mattress, would you? Hermione and I have a bet going."

2 Exploring the Possibility

Draco grinned wickedly as Ron exited his office. Weasley was right. He had been blind, but he'd also been stupid. How could he not have figured it out before now? He'd been assigned to the Auror division eight months ago to audit all of their outstanding cases. It was his chance to prove to the world that he was more than just the spoiled son of a Death Eater, but it had come with one very important stipulation. "Don't piss off Harry Potter."

The provision had left a sour taste in his mouth, but his career had been at stake, so Draco had taken the warning very seriously. The problem was, he liked to piss off Harry Potter. He liked how the man's strong jaw clenched when he was angry, how those formidable green eyes glistened with passion, how his powerful hands balled up into tight little knots. It made Draco's blood boil just to think of it. It also made that same blood rush straight to places it had no business rushing to at the moment.

"Harry, have a seat. Ron was kind enough to conjure you a chair."

Oh, that was another thing he adored about Harry Potter. That look of utter confusion whenever Draco referred to anyone by their given name. Especially him.

"Er ... what did you need to see me about?" Harry asked cautiously as he sat in the garish red chair Weasley had just vacated.

"I had some questions about a few previous cases and I thought it would be easier to discuss them all with you rather than to drag in the various Aurors that handled them. With you being head of the department, I assume you will have an intimate knowledge of them all."

Draco almost crowed when a slight flush coloured Harry's cheeks at the word intimate.

"Oh. Well, yeah, I'm sure I can probably help with that."

Draco hoped he'd be able to convince Harry to help him with a few other intimate problems before the evening was over. "Actually, I didn't realise how late it was and I seem to have missed lunch this afternoon. Perhaps we could discuss them over dinner?"

Potter was obviously sharper than Draco gave him credit for because the innocent, confused look fell away, and his face hardened into a mask of stone as he stood and headed for the door. "Look, I'm not sure what you and Ron were whispering about, but if this is another one of your games to torture me then I—"

"Don't go," Draco interrupted, sighing as he stood and rounded his desk.

Harry's back stiffened as Draco moved closer, his knuckles whitening from the grip he held on the door handle. For the first time since Weasley had opened his mouth, Draco wondered if he'd got it all wrong. If he had, there was more to lose than just his pride; his very career could be in jeopardy, and for a split second Draco wanted to turn away and pretend he didn't want to run his fingers through that messy mane Harry called hair. His hands obviously had their own ideas though, and before he could formulate a decent excuse, his fingers were wrapped around Harry's wrist. He knew it was now or never.

He moved close enough that Harry could feel his breath flowing over the exposed skin on his neck and whispered, "I can think of a few methods of torture that you might enjoy."

When Harry's breath hitched, Draco knew for certain Ron had been right and it gave him the confidence he needed to continue. "Or you could torture me if you'd rather. I wouldn't complain."

Harry released his grip on the door and turned. Draco wondered vaguely if he should back away and be prepared for a punch, but the look in Harry's eyes glued him to the spot.

"What exactly did Ron tell you?"

"He said I should make you take me somewhere nice before I let you pound me into the mattress, but I'm rather inclined to ignore that suggestion."

Draco was certain he'd never be able to say Harry Potter and innocent in the same sentence again, because the gleam in those eyes was nothing short of predatory. If Draco continued along this path, he had a feeling he may as well get "property of Harry Potter" tattooed on his arse. The thought wasn't altogether unpleasant.

"And yet, for the last several months, you've been more than happy to avoid me at every turn."

Draco loosened his grip on Harry's wrist with the intention of letting his hand fall away but Harry caught it before it fell and twined their fingers together, making Draco's heart skip a beat.

"Because I hadn't realised you'd rather I do this." Draco tangled his other hand in the front of Harry's robe and kissed him for all he was worth. He hadn't meant for it to seem so desperate, but the minute his lips touched Harry's something inside him exploded. Something he'd tried very hard, over the last few months, to keep firmly in check. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to mind, and before Draco could formulate another thought, he found himself gloriously trapped between a hard door and an equally hard body.

Harry's lips were the pure definition of exquisite, and there was no question about whether or not Draco would open his mouth and allow Harry's tongue entrance. Harry was a man with a mission, and that mission, it seemed, included mapping out every ridge and contour of Draco's mouth. Not that he was complaining in the least. For all he was concerned, that glorious tongue could map out every inch of his body, inside and out.

It took no time at all for his hand to make its way from the front of Harry's robe and into those wild locks of dark hair. It was bliss, pure and simple. Harry's arm was wrapped around his waist and there was no mistaking the swelling evidence that both of them had been waiting far too long for this. By the time Harry pulled away, being pounded into the mattress seemed like a crude and entirely inappropriate description of what he wanted Harry to do to him.

As Harry rested his forehead on Draco's shoulder, he could feel the man's heart hammering against his chest, his breathing deep and laboured. It almost seemed more intimate than the kiss had been, seeing the Saviour of the World come completely unravelled, knowing that he'd done it. He, Draco Malfoy, had been the one to illicit those tiny whimpers from Harry's lips. It made Draco feel, for the first time in his adult life, protective of someone other than his parents. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair more tenderly than he would have thought possible. "Are you okay?"

Harry looked up then, his eyes full of fire and emotion and ... concern. "Are you really hungry? We could go to the Crystal Unicorn. It's nice ... probably not as nice as you're used to but—"

Draco kissed Harry again to shut him up, but this time it was gentle, filled with less lust and more of something too terrifying to name. Harry's lips found their way to his throat and if he really hadn't skipped both breakfast and lunch, he would have been happy to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. As it was, he thought he might need the energy for later.

"Why don't we get takeout and go to your place instead?" Draco mumbled, arching out and directing Harry's lips to that spot just above his collarbone that made fireworks go off behind his eyelids.

"Can't," Harry whined, sounding more like a disappointed child than a famous war hero. "Ron will be home. He and Hermione aren't getting married until next weekend, remember?" Harry worked his way back up Draco's neck, his breath whispering against his ear making Draco whimper. "What about your place?"

"I hardly think you'd want to dine with my father, Potter."

Harry stiffened and pulled away, as if he'd just realised where he was and whose neck he was mauling. Draco gave him a small, disarming smile. The one he knew was accompanied by the soft look in his eyes that could melt ice on a December morning.

"You still live with your parents?" Harry asked then, his eyes twinkling in a way that made Draco's stomach feel like a nest of small birds had just hatched there. Harry did seem genuinely surprised though, and Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I'd move out but, well, Mother worries about me. Not everyone accepts that I'm reformed, you know."

The confused look in those glorious green eyes reminded Draco of just who he was dealing with. How the man could still wear those rose coloured glasses after everything he'd been through was nothing short of astounding. Draco didn't want to talk about the death threats his family received on a daily basis, though. He wanted Harry's lips back on his skin and his hands to continue their previous exploration. Then he remembered the gold key Weasley had tossed him and suddenly had an inkling of what it might be. He reached into his pocket and held it out in the palm of his hand. "You wouldn't happen to know what this is for, would you?"

As Harry took the key, his face split into the biggest grin Draco had ever seen. "Remind me to send Ron his weight in Honeydukes' chocolates later."

"Is it a Portkey?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "to the ocean-front bungalow I rented as a wedding gift for their honeymoon."

Draco's eyes met Harry's and he grinned devilishly. "You go pick up the food. I'll order the chocolates."

Harry's smile widened and he laughed. It was a good sound. One Draco hoped he'd get to hear much more often. The gentle kiss was even better than the laugh, and when Harry whispered into his ear, "I'll be back in fourteen minutes," Draco wondered where his Hufflepuff tendencies had been hiding all these years, because he wanted to hold on to Harry and never let him out of his sight again. He smiled to himself as he sat at his desk and penned an order to Honeydukes for the most spectacular array of chocolates known to man. He scribbled a short note to be included with the delivery.

Ron,

Thanks for the Portkey. Enjoy the chocolates. Sorry about the bet.

Gratefully yours,
Draco & Harry

3 Embracing the Possibility

 

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

Draco snorted. He wasn't sure if Harry's answer had come out mumbled because of the mouthful of curry he'd just gulped down, or because he couldn't seem to detach his mouth from Draco's body.

"Don't you think it would be more sanitary if you ate your food first and saved me for dessert?"

Harry tore his eyes away from the long expanse of pale skin he'd been studying so intently and grinned. "Oh, you're far from a mere dessert, Draco."

Those wonderful lips were moving over Draco's neck again, teasing as they had since the moment the Portkey had deposited them into the bedroom of the quaint little cottage. For all that Draco had ever accused Harry of being a single-minded simpleton, it hadn't taken him long to realise the man was extremely talented at doing more than one thing at a time – namely driving him mad with want while simultaneously eating like a Weasley after a famine.

"As a matter of fact," Harry continued, whispering seductively into his ear, "I think of you more as a complete menu. See, there's this—" Harry's lips skimmed down Draco's neck to suck languidly on his Adam's apple, "—which is the most delicious appetizer I think I've ever tasted. Then there's this—" Harry's lips roamed downward, while fingers that Draco had always considered clumsy unbuttoned his shirt with a deftness that seemed somehow inhuman, given Draco's own fingers were threaded nervously in Harry's tangled mass of hair.

"This," Harry continued, once the buttons were all undone and Draco's shirt was pushed unceremoniously away from his chest, "is a veritable buffet." Harry's tongue flicked out onto a rosy pink nipple and Draco tried not to arch into it, tried not to whimper, but all the trying in the world didn't seem to be helping. Harry licked and nibbled and sucked and bit and Draco clamped down on his lower lip to halt a yelp and instead bucked against the hard thigh that had so mercifully found its way between his legs.

Harry chuckled, his breath whispering over damp skin, engulfing Draco's entire body in one long, drawn out wave of shivers. Harry's body moved lower and Draco no longer cared that he whimpered at the loss of contact between his cock and ... anything.

"Damn you, Harry—"

"Shh." Harry propped himself up on his elbows and shut Draco up with a possessive kiss, harder and rougher than Draco normally liked, but it was perfect and Draco retaliated by pressing up as much as he could with Harry's body pushing him into the mattress. The kiss slowed against Draco's wishes and he was close to complaining again when Harry took his lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently. "These are the most succulent fruits, plump and ripe and marvellously tasty."

Draco had never heard himself growl before, but growl he did as he tugged at Harry's shirt, pulling away only long enough to yank it over Harry's head and send his glasses crashing to the floor.

"Can we just get to the main course, please?" It was meant to come out as more of a demand and less of a whine, but it didn't matter because Harry's thigh was replaced by an unmistakable bulge and Draco wished he knew a nonverbal spell that would make clothes disappear.

Those green eyes were looking down at him, brighter than Draco would have imagined without those horrid glasses in the way, the dark brows framing them perfectly.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was impolite to rush through your meals?" Harry asked, the crooked smile not quite enough to hide the desire that made the corner of his lips twitch.

"She also taught me not to play with my food." This time the words came out firm and solid, but from the look in Harry's eyes, he took it as more of a challenge than a hint to get on with it.

"Oh, but I like to play with my food, especially when it's this delectable. Besides, I think you gave me permission to torture you. How could I resist such an offer?"

Draco would have cursed, but Harry's fingers had found their way to his trouser buttons and the unnaturally loud snap as they were ripped open made his gut burn. Harry resumed his torturously slow descent back down Draco's neck and chest, pausing wickedly over his navel to flick that damnable tongue inside. He'd always considered Harry more lucky than talented, but once again, the man was proving how pathetically wrong he'd been.

"You're an evil bastard, you know that?"

"No," Harry mumbled as his tongue traced the faint line of blond hair lower, his chin nudging the tip of Draco's still imprisoned cock. "You're the evil one, remember?"

Draco's response turned into a moan of pleasure when Harry's mouth covered the tip of his cock. Even through the silk pants, Draco felt the wet heat that shot with blinding speed to the muscles in his thighs making them fall open, to his hips making them buck upward, to his fingers making them clutch desperately to push Harry's head down. He needed more, so much more, but damn it, Harry was taking his own sweet time, languidly licking and sucking and teasing, scraping his teeth along the column of Draco's cock, and any chance of Draco pretending he had any control was utterly and irrevocably lost.

"Please, Harry. Sweet Merlin, please," he whimpered, only half coherently. Somehow he managed to disentangle his fingers from Harry's hair long enough to push his trousers down, his cock bouncing against Harry's cheek as it was freed from the confines of his clothing. Harry caught it in his mouth as if it was a Golden Snitch, almost swallowing it down with a practiced motion that sent a wave of jealousy soaring through Draco's veins. He barely resisted crying out when his cock popped from Harry's mouth and the man sat back on his haunches to tug Draco's legs from the restraining trousers.

"Fuck," Harry whispered, running the palms of his hands up Draco's freed limbs, brushing his fingertips along the barely visible hair on his smooth thighs.

"Please," Draco pleaded, well beyond caring if he was begging. Beyond caring if he had to beg for the rest of his life. His cock was so hard it ached and the dribble of precome that was leaking onto his stomach seemed more like a fountain. He couldn't wait until Harry got his fill of looking; he reached for his own cock, squeezing his eyes closed at the feel of his hand wrapping around it. It wasn't as good as having Harry's lips around him, but in his current state, it would do.

He vaguely felt the bed shift and then his thighs where being pushed up against his chest and Harry's hands were grasping his cheeks, spreading him open for the world to see and he didn't care. He continued pumping his cock, sweat beading on his upper lip and trickling a path down his temples. Then white-hot fire surged through his veins when he felt Harry's tongue on his arse, his nose nuzzling Draco's tense sac and fuck when Harry's tongue breached his body he thought surely he'd died – moved on to a realm where there was only that glorious tongue and hot breath and Harry's hand over his, pumping his cock to completion. When his orgasm shot through him like a bolt of lightning, he came as close to screaming out in ecstasy as he ever had.

Harry's hand fell away from his cock and Draco felt a finger on his stomach, scooping up the puddle of come that had pooled in his navel. His eyes shot open when he felt that same finger enter his aching hole. He pressed against it, torn between exhaustion and need. When he glanced up at Harry's face, those green eyes were almost black with desire and Harry was biting his lower lip so hard it was nearly white.

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, until Draco's head finally cleared enough to realise somewhere along the line Harry had shucked his own trousers and was now stroking himself. It was enough to make Draco's limp cock give a pathetic twitch, and Harry groaned at the sight.

"What are you waiting for?" Draco asked, his voice still a bit shaky.

Harry's lids fell closed, almost as if he was in pain. "I can wait until you're ready again," he answered softly and Draco's chest tightened with something far more intense than lust. He propped himself up on his elbows, drinking in the sight of Harry's hand squeezing his own cock. Fuck, the man probably was in pain. Harry's finger was still in his arse, moving slowly, tenderly stretching him with patience that Draco wouldn't have had in a thousand years.

Draco reached forward, threading his sweaty, come-soaked fingers into Harry's coarse hair and tugged him down for a long, gentle kiss. "Fuck me, Harry," Draco whispered against his lips. "Like you've never fucked anyone before. Slow and gentle or fast and frantic, I don't care, but fuck me until I have come dripping down my thighs for a week."

Harry groaned, deep in his chest, almost like an animal, and Draco obviously didn't have to ask twice. Harry's cock found his hole and pressed in unapologetically, stretching the tight ring of muscle painfully but Draco didn't care. He pushed against Harry until his cock was fully sheathed, Harry's breathing coming out in rough pants against Draco's shoulder.

"Fuck, I don't want this to end," Harry whispered, almost a sob.

"Why?" Draco asked, carding his fingers through Harry's hair, stroking him more tenderly than he'd ever touched anyone in his entire life. "Because you do realise when we're done we get to start all over again, don't you?"

Harry's head shot up and he looked ... surprised. Draco shook his head slightly and smiled. "Stupid Gryffindor," he said softly, running the tip of his finger down the side of Harry's face, from temple to chin. "Fuck me already, would you? I’m ready for dessert."

Those green eyes seemed to glaze over for a split second and then Harry was moving, pounding into him like he might never get another chance. Fuck it hurt for the first few seconds until Harry's cock grazed his prostate just at the right angle and then Draco's cock was rock hard again and he was spewing out words that made absolutely no sense, but it didn't matter. Harry's hands were on his thighs, gripping tightly as if Draco might try to escape. Harry needn't worry because Draco knew he was right where he'd wanted to be for much longer than he'd ever admit. If he'd been able to think clearly the thought would have worried him, but his only thoughts were of how good it felt and when Harry moaned in that animalistic, growlish tone Draco pumped his cock faster and let his orgasm wipe even those thoughts away.

Harry slumped on top of him, forcing a whoosh of breath from Draco's lungs, but he didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around Harry, pressing his lips into the man's sweaty temple. It felt right in a way few things in his life ever had. Harry mumbled something undistinguishable, making Draco smile fondly. "Go to sleep, hero," Draco whispered.

"Why?" Harry asked softly, barely even a breath.

"Because I said so," Draco answered.

"You're not going to disappear, are you?" Harry whispered, as if he were afraid this had all been a dream and he would awake to find it had never happened. For all Harry's bravado, Draco realised he was just as afraid of this ending as Draco was. The thought spread through his body like a warm ocean breeze, sweeping away any doubts he might have had that this was all just some bizarre sense of curiosity on Harry's part.

There had been very few times in Draco's adult life when he'd felt truly happy, but this was definitely one of them. He smiled at the sight of Harry fighting his exhaustion to keep his eyes focused, waiting patiently for an answer, and Draco suddenly felt power course through him. The hope in Harry's eyes said it all. Draco had the power to break him. To walk away and be the one who broke the famous Harry Potter's heart.

"What, and miss breakfast? Not on your life, hero boy."

Relief flooded Harry's eyes and his smile seemed to stretch out for miles. He rolled off Draco, pulling him close to wrap warm, possessive arms around his waist, nuzzling his lips against the back of Draco's neck. "Mm, yes," he mumbled with that seductive whisper that Draco already knew would make him do just about anything. "Breakfast always has been my favourite meal."

4 Navigating the Possibilities