(no subject)
Beware the smut!
The latest installment of the drama of _amortentia_ as told by myself and justholdstill. I give you...
Harry,
I’m assuming you received my note, since Hedwig came back empty-handed last night. Rather wish she’d had something for me, but I know I’m in no position to be asking for anything, especially not from you.
I really messed this up, didn’t I?
I hate this. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that you aren’t here and I hate that I don’t know where you are so I can say all of this to your face. I just…
I’m sorry. I miss you. Will you at least tell me where you are? I need to know that you’re safe. Being taken care of. I’m sorry, Harry. Truly.
Yours,
Draco
*
Dear Draco,
Yeah, I got it. I would have written back sooner, but Remus and I had a long talk last night, and it was...interesting. I'll have to tell you about it sometime. As for not asking me for anything, well...I don't mind. If you do, that is.
Yeah, you messed up. But I...I messed up too. I shouldn't have yelled at you in the Leaky Cauldron. I mean, I was right pissed off, but I could have waited 'til we got home, couldn't I? And now there are stupid headlines in the papers, and - well. I hope you're okay. I'm sorry too.
I'm staying with Remus...I think I'm going to stay for a couple more days, just until I work some things out. I think it'll be good.
I love want miss you.
Harry
*
Harry,
You wouldn’t have shouted if I hadn’t been such a stupid bloody idiot. If there was a way I could take everything back, I would. I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I’m ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you, Harry. If anything, you should be ashamed of me.
I’m… Well, I can’t say I’m okay, because I’m not, but I’m…coping. When I got home the other night, I got bloody stinking drunk after Kelly told me you’d taken leave. I’d just thrown up my insides and found myself a pain potion when your first letter arrived. I suppose I owe you a bit, since we split the cost of that bottle of vodka and you didn’t get any.
What did the article say? I burned my copy, so all I know is what I’ve gathered from the letters I’ve received. Something about a love potion, I’m assuming, since the majority of them are defending your honour.
I’m glad you’re with Remus. I trust he’ll look after you properly.
A couple more days is a rather long time.
Draco
*
Draco,
Don't worry about the vodka. I'm sure you needed it more than I did.
And...I wanted to take back what I said at the pub, too. I'm not ashamed of you either. In fact...in fact I'm rather proud of - of - well, you know. Being with you. A year ago I don't think I could have made myself admit that.
The articles - well, I won't go into the gory details, but it's more or less what you said. The press is proclaiming me the next bloody queen of England (and for the record, if anyone ever gets a hold of those pictures from that night you made me wear those frilly pink knickers, I will murder you for the rest of your life), and making awful accusations about how you snagged me, just like we worried they would. I suppose at some point in the future we're going to have to set up an interview and get things straight (hah!), but for now I'm not even looking at the papers when they come.
Remus is definitely looking after me - he seems to have got his definition of "looking after" from Mrs. Weasley, because he makes enough food for about ten people at each meal and then expects me to eat most of it.
I'm not really complaining though. You don't realise how bad camp food is until you're actually eating something else.
I think you'll find a couple more days is actually not that long, especially if you do dig out those pictures.
Just leave something for me for when I come home.
Harry
*
Harry,
You are the queen of England to them, you realise. You represent practically everything good, right, and perfect. And they’re all right, I don’t deserve you. I can just see you getting into a strop about that, but it’s true. You’re bloody Harry Potter. I’ll never be good enough to deserve you. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you for the rest of my life.
I wouldn’t mind having a homemade meal or two. Everything here tastes like cardboard lately though it could just be because I’m missing you. I can’t stomach more than a few bites.
A couple of days is forever compared to spending almost every waking moment with you, and more than a few sleeping moments. It’s not the same, looking through these pictures. It’s not the same without you here, touching me, breathing in my ear when we curl up together.
I miss you too bloody much.
Draco
*
Dear Draco,
If I didn't love you so much I might have vomited all over your last letter. In a good way, of course. Seriously, though - when did you become all hearts and flowers? It's not that I mind, because I really, really don't it's just that it's a little weird when you consider that we couldn't spend a waking moment without snarking at each other for the first six years of our acquaintance, and....
....shit. I just used the L word, didn't I?
Er. Well. You can pretend it's not there if you want. Or...you can not.
As for me being the queen of England - well, your sentiment was lovely, but I was meaning "queen" in the "drag" sense, rather more to do with feather boas and glittery lipstick than good and justice. It'll pass, I suppose.
Also, I was sort of thinking that you could perhaps come over for dinner tomorrow night, you know, take things slow. Give you some wanking material that's a little more substantial. I miss you too so much that it almost hurts, but I still think a little bit of time and distance is better than rushing right back into everything.
Well, okay, maybe we can do a little bit of...rushing.
Please don't mope without me. Get Kelly to take you out dancing, or something. I'm sure she'd love to.
All my love affection,
Harry
*
Dear Harry,
What can I say? You’ve turned me into a gushing flowery twat. I, of course, take no responsibility for it, because I was a complete arse before you wedged yourself into my life, and quite happy to be so. I hope you feel bad about completely ruining my personality with your fluff.
You are a bit of a queen, I’ll admit. I’ve ordered you a tiara, by the way, let me know when it arrives.
Slow…is fine. As long as I can see you, I think I can handle slow. I’m just going, you know, a little mental without you. I think I took for granted how you were always here, and I could kiss you whenever I wanted, touch you, hold you…
I really miss you.
I doubt Kelly wants to spend any more time than necessary with me. She only barely puts up with me during training as it is, the way I’ve been lately. I haven’t been moping, just… yeah, alright, moping.
What time is dinner?
Yours,
Draco
[scribbled almost illegibly] I might just love you too.
*
Draco,
You were indeed a bastard. Oh, how have the mighty fallen. As for "ruining your personality", as you put it, I'm not terribly inclined to feel bad about it because it means rather more sex and rather fewer insults for me. I win either way.
Ordered me a tiara, have you? I've ordered you.....well, I haven't ordered you anything embarrassing yet, but I'LL THINK OF SOMETHING. Hah.
You shouldn't write about kissing and touching and holding, because now I'm going quite red and squirming in my seat, and Remus is looking at me funny and asking if I'm okay. Er.
I think I need slow at the moment, even if you are going out of your skull, and as long as you don't waste away in the process, I think we'll be fine. Besides, think how much better the sex will be!
If you've scared Kelly away, perhaps you should call up Ginny and see if she wants to do something with you. She sees you far less often than Kelly does, and would be much more likely put up with you, you sad moper.
Dinner will be at seven. See you soon!
Harry
*
Harry,
I think Hedwig may be hating us, flying her back and forth like this. Let the poor thing have a rest when you get this, I’ll see you for supper anyway.
You do know that saying it makes you squirm only makes me want to write more. It makes me want to tell you what I’m going to do to you when we’re done being slow. How I’m going to touch you, kiss every inch of your body, until you’re begging me to do more. How I’ll have you panting before I even touch your cock. How I’ll bring you almost to the edge and back off, keeping you hard and wanting for as long as I can, until you’re practically dying for release and you’re making that noise that drives me insane, the one you make right before you come, and then all I’ll have to do is give you one suck and you’ll be coming apart at the seams.
But that will have to wait. I want this to work. So slow it is.
I’ll see you at seven.
Draco
*
Draco,
Oh, it's on.
Harry
***
Draco ran his brush through his hair for the thousandth time, cursing darkly. The one day of his life his hair wouldn’t behave. And it had to be today. Of all the days in his life, today. Fuck. He scowled and threw his brush, grabbing his wand in one last ditch effort to get his hair to lie flat. He hated spelling his hair, but this was proving to be an emergency. He couldn’t see Harry looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had to look perfect. Serious. Harry was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and he had to prove he wanted this to work and he’d do anything.
He cast the charm and breathed a sigh of relief when that damned bit of hair fell flat and his entire head didn’t catch fire. Better. Now. If he could only convince himself that he didn’t have anything to worry about, that Harry wasn’t going to slam the door in his face when he showed up, everything would be perfect.
He made his way to the apparation point quickly, and with a twist and a crack, appeared in the alley beside Remus Lupin’s apartment building. …This was it. He made his way up to the front door and pushed the buzzer next to the flat number, chewing his lip nervously.
After a moment of silence, the speaker crackled and Remus’ voice came out, sounding tinny and very far away. “Yes?”
Draco cleared his throat. “It’s, um. It’s Draco. Malfoy. Harry invited me?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Come up. Third floor, second door on the right from the lift.”
The door buzzed and Draco took that as an invitation to go in, muttering under his breath as he made his way to the death box at the end of the corridor. He hated lifts. A tiny room supported by a bit of cable and electricity? He’d rather take the stairs. …But lifts were faster, and that meant he’d see Harry sooner, so into the lift he went, pressing himself tightly against the wall as it rose and scrambling out as soon as he arrived on the third floor. He stopped outside the second door on the right and smoothed his hair, taking a deep breath. Calm. He was calm. Another deep breath. And he knocked.
*
"Forks on the right or on the left?" asked Harry worriedly, hovering over the place settings. He put a fork down on the left side of the plate, considered it for a moment, and then snatched it up and set it down again on the right. "Remus, you have to tell me!"
"Buggered if I know, Harry, " Remus replied distractedly, tasting the gravy. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!"
"Because Draco will leave you once he sees your inferior table-setting skills?" He added another dash of salt and tasted the gravy again, looking as though he was doing his best not to smile.
"Yes! Well, no...but he grew up knowing all these things, and I want everything to be perfect." Remus chuckled.
"Trust me, Harry, it's not the roast Draco's coming for."
"Did you absolutely have to put it like that?" Harry wrinkled his nose. At last he decided that forks went on the left and knives on the right, and attempted to busy himself folding napkins into interesting shapes, a task with which Aunt Petunia had always charged him and at which Harry never found himself to be of much use. Remus looked over his shoulder.
".....I've never seen anyone fold a napkin into the shape of a Hippogriff before. Interesting choice."
Harry threw the napkin down and dropped his head to the countertop with a rather loud thunk. He sighed mournfully. "It was supposed to be a swan. I can't do anything right."
"A certain vanquished Dark Lord might beg to differ." When Harry didn't move from his slump, Remus put a gentle hand on his shoulder and tugged him into a standing position. "Listen, you still have half an hour until he arrives. Why don't you take a shower and change, and I'll take care of the rest." And with that, he pushed Harry bodily out of the kitchen and into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
Harry dragged himself into the bathroom and undressed before turning on the hot water. He stuck his head under the steaming spray and tried to calm himself down by not thinking about the evening ahead. He thought about the last pick-up game of Quidditch he had played before he'd left training camp, and about a particularly neat capture of the snitch - he'd been hanging from his broom by an ankle, and only just managed to pluck it out from under the nose of the other Seeker - but eventually his thoughts turned to the particularly rousing shower he and Draco had had together after the other players had left the changing rooms, and against his will he found himself getting hard.
"Not you too," he muttered; he kept getting flashes of Draco's face as he threw his head back in ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, water running down his fine features - and almost before he knew what he was doing he was taking his cock in hand and stroking slowly, concentrating on the memory. It was too easy - he had every line of Draco's body committed to memory, knew his lithe frame so intimately and so well that it was as if Draco was standing in the shower with him, egging him on. His pale thighs, his flat pink nipples, his broad hands, his eyes.....soon Harry's hand was moving faster, and the next moment he was coming with a soft cry of relief, then slumping against the shower wall, feeling slightly foolish. He didn't know how he was supposed to sit through a whole meal with Draco without leaping over the table and molesting him then and there in front of Remus. He hadn't had sex in over two days, and the tension was killing him.
Harry finished his shower and toweled off. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, which was vaguely blurry without his glasses, and tried to see what Draco saw. Unruly black hair that was standing up on end even though he'd only just combed it down; bright green eyes; a nose that was too big, a chin that was too small. He wondered if they did take things slowly as he wanted to do, Draco would lose interest in him. Sighing, Harry dressed himself - a royal blue button-down and the only pair of jeans he owned that didn't have holes in the knees or elsewhere - and padded back down the hallway in bare feet. He wondered if it was too late to tell Remus owl Draco saying that Harry was deathly ill and they couldn't do dinner.
Just as he was about to poke his head into the kitchen and ask, there came a knock on the door.
Remus was just setting the last item on the table, the gravy boat, when the knock sounded. He looked up and almost started for the door, stopping himself just in time. Harry should answer it. Draco was his guest, after all. There had been plenty of time between hearing the shower stop and the knock on the door for Harry to have dressed, and really, he should let the boys have their moment before they had to suffer through his company during the meal. …Harry had better hurry up and open the door, though, or all the food was going to get cold.
Draco was feeling rather antsy, standing there like an idiot in front of the door. When no on answered his first knock, he knocked again, and then worried. Was this even the right door? He’d said second on the right, hadn’t he? …Or did he say second on the left? Oh fuck, was he knocking on a complete stranger’s door? Was some huge man going to answer and beat the shit out of him for interrupting his supper? Oh god, he was going to die. He should have begged off, said he was ill or something. Shit.
Rubbing his suddenly damp palms on his jeans and taking a deep breath, Harry tugged the door open to see Draco standing there looking very well groomed and wearing what appeared to be a very tight-fitting pair of...leather trousers?
"Er...hi." Harry said shyly. They both stood there for a long minute, looking at each other and no doubt feeling quite stupid and nervous, before Harry had the presence of mind to gesture vaguely at the hallway behind him and ask, "would - would you like to come in?"
A rush of relief filled Draco when the door finally opened and Harry was standing there, looking more perfect than ever. …Definitely a good idea to come here. Absolutely. He smiled when Harry invited him in, nodding and stepping into the flat to have a look around. Small. Cozy, though. He turned, mouth opening and on its way to thank Harry for the invitation, when he realised how close they were standing. Oh. He could almost touch Harry if he wanted to - Merlin, he wanted to -, but he held off, biting down briefly on his bottom lip. “…You look really nice,” he finally murmured, allowing himself to reach over and smooth Harry’s collar before removing his hand. There. That was enough of that.
Harry had an hysterical urge to laugh - they'd spent so many years throwing whatever insults they could think of at one another, and now he was getting a compliment from Draco Malfoy? "You -" his voice gave out on the word and he had to try again, "you look really good too. I, um. Those trousers, they...." The trousers were threatening to do to Harry what the mere memory of Draco had done to him in the shower; Harry bit his lip, and god help him, blushed, and then he did the only thing he could think to do - he leaned forward and carefully backed Draco against the wall before leaning in to capture his mouth in a tentative kiss.
Christ, that was more like it. Draco closed his eyes as he leaned happily into the kiss, one hand curling into Harry’s collar as the other fisted into the shirt at his waist. Bloody hell, he’d missed this. He’d missed touching and kissing and Harry. Merlin. He knew he should probably push Harry away, tell him they should wait, like Harry had wanted in the first place, he didn’t think he could manage it.
Until a throat cleared. Draco gently pressed a palm against Harry’s chest and flushed deeply as he turned to look at Remus, standing nearby with an amused expression on his face. He waited, expecting something, a comment or scolding or something, but Remus only smiled. “Dinner is getting cold.”
Oh. Well, that was embarrassing. "Sorry," Harry muttered to Remus, avoiding Draco's eyes and tucking his shirt back in.
"Not at all," said Remus; there was a moment of silence in which Remus' eyes twinkled and Harry's cheeks flushed even redder, until Remus took pity on them both and ushered them all into the kitchen. "You can sit there, Harry," he said, pointing to the head of the table, "Draco, you can sit at this end, and I -" his eyes twinkled even more, and Harry was reminded strongly of Dumbledore - "I will sit in the middle."
Bugger. Draco almost wanted to pout, but that was childish and it wouldn’t help matters anyway. Now he couldn’t even take Harry’s hand under the table - if he was the hand-holding type, he’d be disappointed - or play footsie or kick him or anything. …It was enough to be here, though. He slid into the seat Remus motioned him into, gazing at Harry across the table and flashing him a hint of a smile. “It smells delicious.”
"Wait until you've tasted it!" Harry piped up, doing his best not to grin like a lunatic. "Remus makes the best roast beef I've ever had."
Remus shook his head and smiled at the effusive praise. "Carrots, Draco?"
Draco’s lips twitched, and he had to force down the urge to leer at Harry and make an inappropriate comment about beef. “Yes, thank you,” he murmured, wondering how long he would be able to make it without making an inappropriate comment in front of Remus. Probably not very long, considering all he wanted to do was leap across the table and shag Harry to within an inch of his life.
"I'd like some meat, Remus," Harry volunteered loudly, raising an eyebrow at Draco and biting back the urge to snicker into his napkin.
Oh, so that’s how they were playing it. Draco smirked, gazing intently across the table at Harry. “Allow me,” he offered before Remus could move, taking up the serving fork and holding his hand out for Harry’s plate. “How much would you like?”
"Oh," said Harry, eyeing the platter with affected nonchalance, "I don't know. But I'd like a really thick piece, wouldn't you?"
Draco leered. Until Remus cleared his throat and reminded Draco of his presence. Shit. Heat traveled up his neck and he lowered his eyes as he served the roast to Harry. “Um. Here you are, then.”
Harry snorted into his waterglass, then quickly tried to compose himself. "Remus, could you please pass the rolls?" Remus did, and they ate in strained silence for a few minutes, until to Harry's relief Remus asked Draco how training was going.
Wonderful, time for awkward conversation. Draco shrugged softly, glancing briefly at Harry before giving Remus his full attention. “It’s going well, I suppose. I’ve been a bit off my game lately, but…I think things are looking up.” Another glance at Harry, to seek out a bit of reassurance that he obviously found, because a smile tugged at his lips as he took a bite of his roast beef.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Things were looking up, alright; it was becoming slightly embarrassing just how up things were looking. He'd never realised what a problem this was, before, the way some people don't realise they have a problem with drink until they're facedown in a ditch - he was in love with Draco, head over heels, arse over teakettle, to the point where even being near him was like the strongest aphrodisiac and Harry was weak in the knees. Harry took another bite of his roll and chewed it thoughtfully, smiling vaguely whenever Remus or Draco said something. It was a strange feeling, this love business, like being simultaneously caressed and punched in the face when the other person looked at you or talked or even stood in the same room. He hadn't been aware that he was staring until Remus leaned over and lightly punched him in the shoulder, joking, "you can look away now and then, Harry. He'll still be here after dinner."
Harry coloured for what felt like the thousandth time that evening and pushed his carrots around his plate, muttering, "right, yeah, sorry," but he couldn't help sneaking another furtive glance at Draco, and he certainly couldn't help the heat that exploded like a Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bang in the pit of his stomach when Draco returned his smile.
Despite how nice this was, sitting around the table with Harry and Remus, feeling like a real family, Draco could help but feel relieved when Remus announced that it was time for dessert, pushing himself up and clearing the table after waving Harry and Draco both back into their seats. They would eat dessert and then maybe Remus would actually give them a moment alone to talk or touch or snog, because fuck if Harry wasn’t giving Draco the worst hard-on he’d ever had in his life, the way he was staring.
Draco smiled his thanks when Remus placed the bowl of chocolate pudding in front of him, forcing himself not to dig in and completely devour it so they could end the meal. He could wait. He was an adult, and damn it, he could control himself for five minutes. Steadily, he dipped his spoon into the pudding and placed it in his mouth, humming softly. It was a good thing he wasn’t planning on rushing this, this pudding was fantastic. He made sure to get every bit from his spoon before dipping it again, closing his eyes briefly. Delicious.
Oh.
Oh god.
Harry had never thought about pudding as being sexually charged before, but he was most definitely thinking about it now, watching Draco lick his off the spoon and taking what seemed to be an obscene amount of pleasure in the proceedings. Harry knew that Remus could make some good pudding, but he was willing to bet that it wasn't that good. Not enough to warrant the inflaming little flicks of the tongue against the spoon that had Harry nearly coming in his pants, or the longer, broader swirling motions that ensured Draco tasted every tiny bit of chocolate there was to be had. Huffing, Harry adjusted himself and took a mouthful of the creamy dessert himself. Two could play at that game.
Draco opened his eyes to get another spoonful, glancing across the table with the intention of smiling at Harry. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat and his cock go instantly hard. That… That had to be illegal. Pink tongue darting out to catch a bit of pudding with just the tip, pink lips closing around the spoon. It was obscenely arousing, and Draco bit down hard on his tongue to keep from rubbing himself through his trousers. And Harry… Harry knew exactly what he was doing, judging by the way he caught Draco’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. That bastard.
Staring directly into Harry’s eyes, Draco mirrored his actions, lapping at his spoon and humming softly every so often, more so from imagining that mouth around his prick instead of that spoon than anything else. He was so intent on what he and Harry were doing that it actually surprised him when Remus cleared his throat and stood up. He blinked and stared up at the man, spoon still in his mouth.
“Should I leave you two and your pudding alone?” Remus asked, looking between the two before bringing his empty bowl to the sink. “…I think I’ll go read for a bit in my bedroom. It was nice to see you again, Draco.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Harry’s head as he passed, ruffling his hair gently. “Be good.”
Good? Oh no, Harry was most definitely not going to be good. Good did not involve sweeping all the dishes off the table and onto the floor to clear a place to shag (there were always cleaning and repairing spells for the aftermath, but Harry wasn't thinking about those right now); good was not striding around the table and grabbing his boyfriend by the collar, thereby dragging him down for a kiss, and good certainly wasn't being unceremoniously pushed down over said table to be have his mouth plundered and his cock frotted against, though Harry thought it was very good indeed.
"Wanted....oh god," he panted, rubbing his cheek against Draco's, one palm flat against the warmth of Draco's firm stomach, "wanted this so bad. Missed - oh! - missed you so much."
“Missed you,” Draco whispered, practically crawling on top of Harry as he thrust down against him. “God, Harry, missed you so much, you have no idea.” He turned his face into Harry’s neck, panting into his skin as his hips rolled almost uncontrollably. Something in the back of his mind was shouting that they were supposed to be taking this slow, but he ignored it, yanking Harry’s shirt from his trousers and sliding a hand up his back, fingers and nails digging into his skin as he gripped him tightly, held him close.
Harry gave a keening moan as Draco rocked against him, one he thought later that Remus must surely have been able to hear all the way down the hall. His lips searched for Draco's, and found them, coaxed his mouth open, teased his tongue with his own. His hands slid around the back of Draco's neck in a classic gesture of tenderness and possession - his whole life, he never wanted anything else; he wanted to be kissed and touched and held his every waking moment, and if he died of pleasure right there on that table, well then, he would die happy. He made to tug Draco's shirt over his head, but when he was met with resistance, had to open his eyes and meet Draco's mournful expression.
Draco shook his head slightly, leaning in for another slow, sweet kiss, forcing his hips to stop moving. He hated the confused look Harry was giving him. It made him want to throw everything out the window and shag him right there. But he couldn’t. After a long moment he pulled back and nuzzled tenderly into Harry’s cheek, closing his eyes. “Slow,” he murmured, sliding a hand up to curl gently into Harry’s hair. “Remember? …I want this to work.”
"Right, slow," Harry groaned, trying to will his erection away, "god, I'm stupid." Draco grinned breathlessly at him and Harry allowed himself one final kiss before he extricated himself from Draco's limbs and pulled himself to his feet. He looked around at the kitchen.....broken crockery and glasses, food strewn everywhere, chairs overturned...Harry was momentarily glad that Hermione had taught him so many spells that had to do with tidying. It took them half an hour, but together managed to repair Remus' dishes and swept the floor, and when they were done Harry allowed himself to look at his boyfriend again and give a crooked little smile.
"Can we at least snog on the couch for a while?"
Draco laughed, curling his fingers into Harry’s sleeve and tugging him into a soft kiss. “I think snogging on the couch is a brilliant idea,” he agreed, leading him from the kitchen and over to the sofa in the next room. He sat beside the arm and peered innocently up at Harry, patting the empty spot next to him. Maybe this taking it slow thing was a good idea after all. Because really, they never got the chance to evolve into the relationship they had, they just sort of…jumped in. And now they could do all the things they missed the first time around, like getting caught by an adult (check), having a dinner date (check, and bonus points for having a chaperone), and snogging on the sofa.
Harry sat; at first it was kind of awkward, all jostling elbows and bumping knees as they tried to decide whose limbs went where, but eventually they found a position that was comfortable for them both, with Harry half-lying across Draco's lap, his head pillowed on Draco's shoulder, and Draco's arms twined tightly around him. It felt both romantic and ridiculous, a bit like an old Hollywood movie, but it proved to be a very advantageous position to snog in, what with the close proximity and minimal neck strain, so Harry decided not to think about it too much. There were much better things to think about, like the lovely and unfamiliar feeling of being held so closely, and of the quiet, weirdly erotic sounds Draco made deep in his throat when Harry nipped at his throat; of the exact shape and size and softness of Draco's lips as they pressed against Harry's, of the simple sensations of pleasure that Draco could evoke from Harry by idly toying with the hem of his cotton t-shirt and lightly stroking the quaking belly beneath.
At least one good thing had come from that horrible fight. This was the sweetest, most sensual, most arousing kiss they’d ever shared, and Draco wanted it to go on forever. He had one arm around Harry’s shoulders and the other playing with the front of his shirt, fingers circling his navel idly before sliding up to cup the side of his face. His thumb brushed Harry’s jaw and adjusted the angle of their kiss as his tongue slid inside to re-explore the familiar territory of Harry’s mouth. He had every inch of it memorized. The soft ridges on the roof of his mouth, down to the crooked molar on the top left. When the need to breathe overpowered his need to stay attached to Harry, he let his mouth travel up the side of Harry’s jaw, nibbling softly just under his earlobe, raining kisses down the side of his neck.
“Harry,” he whispered between kisses, eyes closed, every nerve on edge. “…I love you.”
Harry's eyes flew open, and he drew back just enough to properly look at Draco, who was now regarding him fearfully, as if he was scared of being hit, or worse, rejected. A very quiet and profound feeling swept through Harry, rapidly followed by a wild blaze of joy, and it was all he could do to restrain himself long enough to murmur, "Me too. I mean, I love you too," before sealing his mouth against Draco's again in the most passionate and enthusiastic kiss yet.
Then he thought of something else and pulled back again. "Can we have sex now?"
“Stupid prat,” Draco murmured fondly, smiling at Harry. “No.” Slow. They were taking it slow and that was final. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and leaned in for another kiss, just a soft one, before leaning his forehead against Harry’s. “…Maybe I should go,” he suggested quietly. Honestly, he wanted to do anything but leave, but Merlin, the temptation… It was almost too much to take.
"No," breathed Harry, threading his fingers through Draco's hair (it was getting long, wasn't it?), capturing his lips over and over in the lightest and quickest of kisses. "Stay a while longer. I'll be good, I promise."
Draco was torn between what his mind was telling him to do and what Harry’s lips felt like against his own. …Damn it. He sighed, giving in. “Just a while,” he whispered, stroking his fingertips down Harry’s cheek.
***
Dear Draco
(or is that Sweetums?) I hope this letter finds you well. Remus continues to overfeed me as usual; I hope you can deal with twenty extra pounds of Harry when I come back. How is training going? Did you do well in your strength test on Thursday?
I just may be the most boring boyfriend ever.........
Looking forward to the moment when you shag me silly,
Harry
*
Dear Harry,
If you cherish your life at all, you will never call me “Sweetums” again.
I’m glad he’s feeding you, you’re so skinny I fear for your safety when a breeze comes along. You have nothing to worry about, though, I’m sure Kelly will work it right back off when you get back. Bloody tyrant, she is. Had me run 10 kilometers yesterday. In my gear. I nearly died. Strength test went alright, though.
So bloody sore. Wish you were here to give me a rub down.
When are you coming back?
Draco
*
Draco,
What are your feelings on being called "Muffin"? Or "Cupcake?" or "Apple Strudel?"
Shut up I'm not skinny.
Too bad I'm not there. Perhaps you'll just have to get some oil, and...ahem...rub yourself.
Two more days with Remus.
Harry
*
Harry,
What are your feelings on being called “Dead?”
Please, you’re practically invisible when you turn sideways.
I’m too sore to even wank, if you can believe that. I skipped lunch and had a nap, and when I woke up I could barely move. Had to go to the medic for a massage before I even started feeling like a human again.
Two more days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive two more days without you. I miss you.
Draco
*
Draco,
If it's "Dead" as in, "Dead From Incredible Sex All Night Long", then I can't really say I have any objections.
Too bad about being sore from wanking. I was going to tell you about fantasy I had about you in the shower this afternoon, but I guess that would be unkind of me.
I'm thinking of coming back from leave a day early. As in, tomorrow. Think you'll be able to survive until then?
Missing you too,
Harry
*
Harry,
Massage helped. Feeling much better, and actually had a wank over you thinking of me in the shower. Then had a shower and fantasy of my own. Thought about that time you sucked me off after that particularly harsh training session, do you remember that? I was taking my shower, minding my own business when you barged in and practically smashed me against the wall. Not that I really cared, especially not after you fell right on your knees. Fuck, you looked gorgeous, water dripping down your face, eyes closed, hair plastered against your forehead, my cock in your mouth. Hell, I’m getting hard again just thinking about it right now. I bet you are too. You probably had to excuse yourself to the loo to read this, so Remus couldn’t see how flustered you were getting. Am I right?
I think I might be able to survive until tomorrow. Can you?
Draco
*
Draco stop coming home now stop be naked when I get there stop Harry stop
***
As soon as the message from Harry was in Draco’s hands, pulses of excitement shot through his body. Harry was coming home. And from the sounds of it, Draco was going to get the shagging of a lifetime. He immediately scrambled for his wand, cleaning their tiny cabin as quickly as he could, changing the sheets on his bed, hiding the dirty clothes, digging the condoms and lube from his sock drawer. Nervousness mixed in with the excitement as he peeled off his clothes and tossed them into the basket. Should he prep himself? Would Harry want to do it? Bugger, this was more nerve wracking than their first time.
Forcing himself to relax (as much as he could, anyway ), Draco sat on the bed, back against the headboard, bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for Harry to arrive.
Harry didn't even bother to pack his things, or to tell Remus he was leaving - after he'd sent his last terse missive to Draco, he'd rushed through a hot shower and then struggled to dress himself as quickly as he could, managing to put his shirt on first inside-out and then backwards before he got it right. His hair was still wet by the time he reached the apparition zone outside of camp, and both of his shoelaces were untied, but that didn't stop him from sprinting all the way across the grounds (why hadn't he realised quite how far it was, before?) to their little cabin on the cliff. Past the dinner hall, around the running track, left at the Academy building, and down across a very large and neatly manicured green lawn; with every step he drew nearer and nearer - he could see the bright blue door behind which Draco undoubtedly waited - and then he was finally, finally there, flinging the door open, striding across the room, and pouncing on a very naked and smug-looking Draco. Harry took a moment to snog the smirk off his face, drawing it out until they were both breathless, and only then did he lift his head enough to rasp out, "miss me?"
Draco gripped Harry by the arms, fingers digging into his flesh as he kissed him back as if his very life depended on it. By the time Harry pulled away, his head was spinning and his hips were rocking on their own accord and Draco thought he might die right there if Harry wasn’t inside of him that instant. “Lock the door and take off your clothes,” Draco ordered in response, biting Harry’s bottom lip none-too-gently. “I need you in me now.”
Done. Harry groped blindly for his wand and cast the spell, and then cast muffliato just to be on the safe side before stripping off his shirt and trousers and pants. He nudged Draco onto his belly and reached for the lube, taking a moment to slick his already aching cock before sliding two fingers slowly into Draco, pushing and stretching and teasing. "Good?" He asked. When Draco shuddered and moaned something affirmative, Harry added a third, careful to nudge his prostate, shuddering himself as Draco broke out in a sweat and shoved himself back onto Harry's fingers, begging wordlessly for more. Enough foreplay, then. Harry positioned himself over Draco, coaxing him up onto shaking knees, his hands grasping the slim hips, and slid carefully home, moaning at the sensations and inflamed by Draco's answering whine.
Oh fucking hell, it had been too sodding long. Too long without this, without Harry. Bloody hell. Draco lost himself for a moment in the movement of Harry’s hips, the hands on his body, the warmth pressed against his back, before he shook his head roughly. “Wait,” he choked out, fingers curling into the sheets. “Wait. I want… Want to face you. N-need to see you.”
With a Herculean effort Harry managed to stop his thrusts and pull back so that Draco could turn over again and rearrange himself. It was not the most dignified of positions, Harry had to admit (really, few things about sex could be called dignified), given that Draco's feet were in the air, but the opportunity to look at one another as they fucked, and the rather scorching view of Draco's body that he was afforded, not to mention easy access to his cock, was more than enough to make up for it. He leaned forward to kiss and bite at Draco's lips as he pushed in again. Oh, this was good. Too good. Harry reached for Draco's cock and fisted it lazily as he thrust. He probably wasn't going to last long, but damned if he wasn't going to squeeze every ounce of pleasure from those moments.
Oh, that was more like it. Draco wrapped himself completely around Harry as best he could, arms around his shoulders, feet vaguely situated at his back, as if trying to devour Harry completely. His fingers curled tightly into the dark locks atop Harry’s head, keeping Harry’s mouth pressed firmly against his own. This was, quite possibly, the greatest benefit of this position. Harry was an excellent kisser, gentle and firm and yielding and demanding all at once, and Draco never felt more wanted than he did when Harry was kissing him. It was perfect. Perfect and fantastic and amazing and…right.
“Harder,” he whispered against Harry’s lips, hips arching into every thrust. He wanted to be able to feel this in the morning.
Harry could do harder. He could do faster. He would do anything and everything Draco wanted him to do if only it meant prolonging the rush of pleasure shifting back and forth between their bodies. He lowered his body over Draco's until their noses were almost touching and felt his body pick up the pace almost of its own accord. His hand was fairly flying over Draco's cock now, and his lover was beginning to make that soft, breathy groan that meant he was close, which was good because Harry's own senses were beginning to cloud over, and he felt that familiar distant ache at the base of his spine that meant his own release was not far off.
Draco panted, lips just barely touching Harry’s now, as he tried to hold off, tried to make this last as long as he could. But Harry was hitting his prostate on almost every stroke now, and his hand was stroking him just right, and he could feel his body tightening in preparation. Draco opened his eyes to mere slits, gazing up at Harry and digging his fingernails into the other man’s shoulders. God, this was it. “Love you,” Draco breathed before his eyes closed and his back arched and he was coming, cock painting stripes across his and Harry’s bellies until it and his entire body went limp.
It only took three more short, hard, strokes after Draco had finished, and then Harry was coming too, groaning loudly as his vision went white and he collapsed unceremoniously on top of his lover. It was probably uncomfortable for Draco, but at the moment Harry was hard-pressed to care. He was still gasping as the aftershocks tore through him, each one a small electric jolt that had him shuddering faintly even after his orgasm. Wanking was never as satisfying as this. His cock still buried deep inside, Harry leaned down and turned Draco's face toward him, kissing him tenderly. "I love you too."
Draco gave Harry a lazy smile, fingers tracing light patterns up and down Harry’s back. He gave them both a minute to catch their breath and exchange soft, sweet kisses before separating from Harry just enough to look him in the eye. “I know I told you in my letters, but… I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry.”
Harry took a deep breath and pulled out carefully, rolling to the side to put the condom in the wastebasket. He lay down again and pulled Draco against him, pulling the sheets up over them both. "It's okay," he said at last, kissing Draco's forehead, "I kind of understood where you were coming from. And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have made a scene in such a public place.”
Draco curled gratefully against Harry’s chest, shaking his head. “Never should have tried to hide this in the first place. I just… I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want the press barging into our lives and fucking everything up. …Though I guess I did that pretty well on my own.”
"You did," Harry agreed cheekily, "but I forgive you." He grinned at Draco and ran one of his feet up Draco's calf under the sheets.
Draco shied away, swatting Harry on the arse and giving him an incredulous look. “…I can’t bloody believe I just let you shag me while you had your socks still on. Take them off.” Bloody hell, he hadn’t realized he was that desperate.
"C'mon," Harry tried, rolling over his boyfriend and tickling his toes with his own sock-clad feet, "you mean it doesn't turn you on at all?"
"Not even a little bit," replied Draco, laughing despite himself as he pushed Harry away. "I said off!"
Pouting, Harry reached down and attempted to remove his socks in the sexiest manner possible, rolling them down his calves and them pulling them off his feet with a little flourish and a wave. "Not even now?"
"In your dreams, Potty."
As soon as those damned socks were off, Draco pushed Harry back down on the bed and wiggled himself as close as he could get without crawling inside of him. That was more like it. He tangled their legs together and kissed Harry’s chest. “…Next time we go out, I want to hold your hand.”
"You? Want to hold my hand?" Harry teased, grinning even wider as Draco flushed. "I'm sure something can be arranged." And with that, he snuggled down and put his head on Draco's shoulder, eyes closed, ready for a good long sleep before the next round.
“Prat,” Draco whispered fondly, stroking his fingers gently through Harry’s hair until sleep overtook them both.
The latest installment of the drama of _amortentia_ as told by myself and justholdstill. I give you...
Harry,
I’m assuming you received my note, since Hedwig came back empty-handed last night. Rather wish she’d had something for me, but I know I’m in no position to be asking for anything, especially not from you.
I really messed this up, didn’t I?
I hate this. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that you aren’t here and I hate that I don’t know where you are so I can say all of this to your face. I just…
I’m sorry. I miss you. Will you at least tell me where you are? I need to know that you’re safe. Being taken care of. I’m sorry, Harry. Truly.
Yours,
Draco
*
Dear Draco,
Yeah, I got it. I would have written back sooner, but Remus and I had a long talk last night, and it was...interesting. I'll have to tell you about it sometime. As for not asking me for anything, well...I don't mind. If you do, that is.
Yeah, you messed up. But I...I messed up too. I shouldn't have yelled at you in the Leaky Cauldron. I mean, I was right pissed off, but I could have waited 'til we got home, couldn't I? And now there are stupid headlines in the papers, and - well. I hope you're okay. I'm sorry too.
I'm staying with Remus...I think I'm going to stay for a couple more days, just until I work some things out. I think it'll be good.
I love want miss you.
Harry
*
Harry,
You wouldn’t have shouted if I hadn’t been such a stupid bloody idiot. If there was a way I could take everything back, I would. I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I’m ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you, Harry. If anything, you should be ashamed of me.
I’m… Well, I can’t say I’m okay, because I’m not, but I’m…coping. When I got home the other night, I got bloody stinking drunk after Kelly told me you’d taken leave. I’d just thrown up my insides and found myself a pain potion when your first letter arrived. I suppose I owe you a bit, since we split the cost of that bottle of vodka and you didn’t get any.
What did the article say? I burned my copy, so all I know is what I’ve gathered from the letters I’ve received. Something about a love potion, I’m assuming, since the majority of them are defending your honour.
I’m glad you’re with Remus. I trust he’ll look after you properly.
A couple more days is a rather long time.
Draco
*
Draco,
Don't worry about the vodka. I'm sure you needed it more than I did.
And...I wanted to take back what I said at the pub, too. I'm not ashamed of you either. In fact...in fact I'm rather proud of - of - well, you know. Being with you. A year ago I don't think I could have made myself admit that.
The articles - well, I won't go into the gory details, but it's more or less what you said. The press is proclaiming me the next bloody queen of England (and for the record, if anyone ever gets a hold of those pictures from that night you made me wear those frilly pink knickers, I will murder you for the rest of your life), and making awful accusations about how you snagged me, just like we worried they would. I suppose at some point in the future we're going to have to set up an interview and get things straight (hah!), but for now I'm not even looking at the papers when they come.
Remus is definitely looking after me - he seems to have got his definition of "looking after" from Mrs. Weasley, because he makes enough food for about ten people at each meal and then expects me to eat most of it.
I'm not really complaining though. You don't realise how bad camp food is until you're actually eating something else.
I think you'll find a couple more days is actually not that long, especially if you do dig out those pictures.
Just leave something for me for when I come home.
Harry
*
Harry,
You are the queen of England to them, you realise. You represent practically everything good, right, and perfect. And they’re all right, I don’t deserve you. I can just see you getting into a strop about that, but it’s true. You’re bloody Harry Potter. I’ll never be good enough to deserve you. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you for the rest of my life.
I wouldn’t mind having a homemade meal or two. Everything here tastes like cardboard lately though it could just be because I’m missing you. I can’t stomach more than a few bites.
A couple of days is forever compared to spending almost every waking moment with you, and more than a few sleeping moments. It’s not the same, looking through these pictures. It’s not the same without you here, touching me, breathing in my ear when we curl up together.
I miss you too bloody much.
Draco
*
Dear Draco,
If I didn't love you so much I might have vomited all over your last letter. In a good way, of course. Seriously, though - when did you become all hearts and flowers? It's not that I mind, because I really, really don't it's just that it's a little weird when you consider that we couldn't spend a waking moment without snarking at each other for the first six years of our acquaintance, and....
....shit. I just used the L word, didn't I?
Er. Well. You can pretend it's not there if you want. Or...you can not.
As for me being the queen of England - well, your sentiment was lovely, but I was meaning "queen" in the "drag" sense, rather more to do with feather boas and glittery lipstick than good and justice. It'll pass, I suppose.
Also, I was sort of thinking that you could perhaps come over for dinner tomorrow night, you know, take things slow. Give you some wanking material that's a little more substantial. I miss you too so much that it almost hurts, but I still think a little bit of time and distance is better than rushing right back into everything.
Well, okay, maybe we can do a little bit of...rushing.
Please don't mope without me. Get Kelly to take you out dancing, or something. I'm sure she'd love to.
All my love affection,
Harry
*
Dear Harry,
What can I say? You’ve turned me into a gushing flowery twat. I, of course, take no responsibility for it, because I was a complete arse before you wedged yourself into my life, and quite happy to be so. I hope you feel bad about completely ruining my personality with your fluff.
You are a bit of a queen, I’ll admit. I’ve ordered you a tiara, by the way, let me know when it arrives.
Slow…is fine. As long as I can see you, I think I can handle slow. I’m just going, you know, a little mental without you. I think I took for granted how you were always here, and I could kiss you whenever I wanted, touch you, hold you…
I really miss you.
I doubt Kelly wants to spend any more time than necessary with me. She only barely puts up with me during training as it is, the way I’ve been lately. I haven’t been moping, just… yeah, alright, moping.
What time is dinner?
Yours,
Draco
[scribbled almost illegibly] I might just love you too.
*
Draco,
You were indeed a bastard. Oh, how have the mighty fallen. As for "ruining your personality", as you put it, I'm not terribly inclined to feel bad about it because it means rather more sex and rather fewer insults for me. I win either way.
Ordered me a tiara, have you? I've ordered you.....well, I haven't ordered you anything embarrassing yet, but I'LL THINK OF SOMETHING. Hah.
You shouldn't write about kissing and touching and holding, because now I'm going quite red and squirming in my seat, and Remus is looking at me funny and asking if I'm okay. Er.
I think I need slow at the moment, even if you are going out of your skull, and as long as you don't waste away in the process, I think we'll be fine. Besides, think how much better the sex will be!
If you've scared Kelly away, perhaps you should call up Ginny and see if she wants to do something with you. She sees you far less often than Kelly does, and would be much more likely put up with you, you sad moper.
Dinner will be at seven. See you soon!
Harry
*
Harry,
I think Hedwig may be hating us, flying her back and forth like this. Let the poor thing have a rest when you get this, I’ll see you for supper anyway.
You do know that saying it makes you squirm only makes me want to write more. It makes me want to tell you what I’m going to do to you when we’re done being slow. How I’m going to touch you, kiss every inch of your body, until you’re begging me to do more. How I’ll have you panting before I even touch your cock. How I’ll bring you almost to the edge and back off, keeping you hard and wanting for as long as I can, until you’re practically dying for release and you’re making that noise that drives me insane, the one you make right before you come, and then all I’ll have to do is give you one suck and you’ll be coming apart at the seams.
But that will have to wait. I want this to work. So slow it is.
I’ll see you at seven.
Draco
*
Draco,
Oh, it's on.
Harry
***
Draco ran his brush through his hair for the thousandth time, cursing darkly. The one day of his life his hair wouldn’t behave. And it had to be today. Of all the days in his life, today. Fuck. He scowled and threw his brush, grabbing his wand in one last ditch effort to get his hair to lie flat. He hated spelling his hair, but this was proving to be an emergency. He couldn’t see Harry looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had to look perfect. Serious. Harry was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and he had to prove he wanted this to work and he’d do anything.
He cast the charm and breathed a sigh of relief when that damned bit of hair fell flat and his entire head didn’t catch fire. Better. Now. If he could only convince himself that he didn’t have anything to worry about, that Harry wasn’t going to slam the door in his face when he showed up, everything would be perfect.
He made his way to the apparation point quickly, and with a twist and a crack, appeared in the alley beside Remus Lupin’s apartment building. …This was it. He made his way up to the front door and pushed the buzzer next to the flat number, chewing his lip nervously.
After a moment of silence, the speaker crackled and Remus’ voice came out, sounding tinny and very far away. “Yes?”
Draco cleared his throat. “It’s, um. It’s Draco. Malfoy. Harry invited me?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Come up. Third floor, second door on the right from the lift.”
The door buzzed and Draco took that as an invitation to go in, muttering under his breath as he made his way to the death box at the end of the corridor. He hated lifts. A tiny room supported by a bit of cable and electricity? He’d rather take the stairs. …But lifts were faster, and that meant he’d see Harry sooner, so into the lift he went, pressing himself tightly against the wall as it rose and scrambling out as soon as he arrived on the third floor. He stopped outside the second door on the right and smoothed his hair, taking a deep breath. Calm. He was calm. Another deep breath. And he knocked.
*
"Forks on the right or on the left?" asked Harry worriedly, hovering over the place settings. He put a fork down on the left side of the plate, considered it for a moment, and then snatched it up and set it down again on the right. "Remus, you have to tell me!"
"Buggered if I know, Harry, " Remus replied distractedly, tasting the gravy. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!"
"Because Draco will leave you once he sees your inferior table-setting skills?" He added another dash of salt and tasted the gravy again, looking as though he was doing his best not to smile.
"Yes! Well, no...but he grew up knowing all these things, and I want everything to be perfect." Remus chuckled.
"Trust me, Harry, it's not the roast Draco's coming for."
"Did you absolutely have to put it like that?" Harry wrinkled his nose. At last he decided that forks went on the left and knives on the right, and attempted to busy himself folding napkins into interesting shapes, a task with which Aunt Petunia had always charged him and at which Harry never found himself to be of much use. Remus looked over his shoulder.
".....I've never seen anyone fold a napkin into the shape of a Hippogriff before. Interesting choice."
Harry threw the napkin down and dropped his head to the countertop with a rather loud thunk. He sighed mournfully. "It was supposed to be a swan. I can't do anything right."
"A certain vanquished Dark Lord might beg to differ." When Harry didn't move from his slump, Remus put a gentle hand on his shoulder and tugged him into a standing position. "Listen, you still have half an hour until he arrives. Why don't you take a shower and change, and I'll take care of the rest." And with that, he pushed Harry bodily out of the kitchen and into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
Harry dragged himself into the bathroom and undressed before turning on the hot water. He stuck his head under the steaming spray and tried to calm himself down by not thinking about the evening ahead. He thought about the last pick-up game of Quidditch he had played before he'd left training camp, and about a particularly neat capture of the snitch - he'd been hanging from his broom by an ankle, and only just managed to pluck it out from under the nose of the other Seeker - but eventually his thoughts turned to the particularly rousing shower he and Draco had had together after the other players had left the changing rooms, and against his will he found himself getting hard.
"Not you too," he muttered; he kept getting flashes of Draco's face as he threw his head back in ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, water running down his fine features - and almost before he knew what he was doing he was taking his cock in hand and stroking slowly, concentrating on the memory. It was too easy - he had every line of Draco's body committed to memory, knew his lithe frame so intimately and so well that it was as if Draco was standing in the shower with him, egging him on. His pale thighs, his flat pink nipples, his broad hands, his eyes.....soon Harry's hand was moving faster, and the next moment he was coming with a soft cry of relief, then slumping against the shower wall, feeling slightly foolish. He didn't know how he was supposed to sit through a whole meal with Draco without leaping over the table and molesting him then and there in front of Remus. He hadn't had sex in over two days, and the tension was killing him.
Harry finished his shower and toweled off. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, which was vaguely blurry without his glasses, and tried to see what Draco saw. Unruly black hair that was standing up on end even though he'd only just combed it down; bright green eyes; a nose that was too big, a chin that was too small. He wondered if they did take things slowly as he wanted to do, Draco would lose interest in him. Sighing, Harry dressed himself - a royal blue button-down and the only pair of jeans he owned that didn't have holes in the knees or elsewhere - and padded back down the hallway in bare feet. He wondered if it was too late to tell Remus owl Draco saying that Harry was deathly ill and they couldn't do dinner.
Just as he was about to poke his head into the kitchen and ask, there came a knock on the door.
Remus was just setting the last item on the table, the gravy boat, when the knock sounded. He looked up and almost started for the door, stopping himself just in time. Harry should answer it. Draco was his guest, after all. There had been plenty of time between hearing the shower stop and the knock on the door for Harry to have dressed, and really, he should let the boys have their moment before they had to suffer through his company during the meal. …Harry had better hurry up and open the door, though, or all the food was going to get cold.
Draco was feeling rather antsy, standing there like an idiot in front of the door. When no on answered his first knock, he knocked again, and then worried. Was this even the right door? He’d said second on the right, hadn’t he? …Or did he say second on the left? Oh fuck, was he knocking on a complete stranger’s door? Was some huge man going to answer and beat the shit out of him for interrupting his supper? Oh god, he was going to die. He should have begged off, said he was ill or something. Shit.
Rubbing his suddenly damp palms on his jeans and taking a deep breath, Harry tugged the door open to see Draco standing there looking very well groomed and wearing what appeared to be a very tight-fitting pair of...leather trousers?
"Er...hi." Harry said shyly. They both stood there for a long minute, looking at each other and no doubt feeling quite stupid and nervous, before Harry had the presence of mind to gesture vaguely at the hallway behind him and ask, "would - would you like to come in?"
A rush of relief filled Draco when the door finally opened and Harry was standing there, looking more perfect than ever. …Definitely a good idea to come here. Absolutely. He smiled when Harry invited him in, nodding and stepping into the flat to have a look around. Small. Cozy, though. He turned, mouth opening and on its way to thank Harry for the invitation, when he realised how close they were standing. Oh. He could almost touch Harry if he wanted to - Merlin, he wanted to -, but he held off, biting down briefly on his bottom lip. “…You look really nice,” he finally murmured, allowing himself to reach over and smooth Harry’s collar before removing his hand. There. That was enough of that.
Harry had an hysterical urge to laugh - they'd spent so many years throwing whatever insults they could think of at one another, and now he was getting a compliment from Draco Malfoy? "You -" his voice gave out on the word and he had to try again, "you look really good too. I, um. Those trousers, they...." The trousers were threatening to do to Harry what the mere memory of Draco had done to him in the shower; Harry bit his lip, and god help him, blushed, and then he did the only thing he could think to do - he leaned forward and carefully backed Draco against the wall before leaning in to capture his mouth in a tentative kiss.
Christ, that was more like it. Draco closed his eyes as he leaned happily into the kiss, one hand curling into Harry’s collar as the other fisted into the shirt at his waist. Bloody hell, he’d missed this. He’d missed touching and kissing and Harry. Merlin. He knew he should probably push Harry away, tell him they should wait, like Harry had wanted in the first place, he didn’t think he could manage it.
Until a throat cleared. Draco gently pressed a palm against Harry’s chest and flushed deeply as he turned to look at Remus, standing nearby with an amused expression on his face. He waited, expecting something, a comment or scolding or something, but Remus only smiled. “Dinner is getting cold.”
Oh. Well, that was embarrassing. "Sorry," Harry muttered to Remus, avoiding Draco's eyes and tucking his shirt back in.
"Not at all," said Remus; there was a moment of silence in which Remus' eyes twinkled and Harry's cheeks flushed even redder, until Remus took pity on them both and ushered them all into the kitchen. "You can sit there, Harry," he said, pointing to the head of the table, "Draco, you can sit at this end, and I -" his eyes twinkled even more, and Harry was reminded strongly of Dumbledore - "I will sit in the middle."
Bugger. Draco almost wanted to pout, but that was childish and it wouldn’t help matters anyway. Now he couldn’t even take Harry’s hand under the table - if he was the hand-holding type, he’d be disappointed - or play footsie or kick him or anything. …It was enough to be here, though. He slid into the seat Remus motioned him into, gazing at Harry across the table and flashing him a hint of a smile. “It smells delicious.”
"Wait until you've tasted it!" Harry piped up, doing his best not to grin like a lunatic. "Remus makes the best roast beef I've ever had."
Remus shook his head and smiled at the effusive praise. "Carrots, Draco?"
Draco’s lips twitched, and he had to force down the urge to leer at Harry and make an inappropriate comment about beef. “Yes, thank you,” he murmured, wondering how long he would be able to make it without making an inappropriate comment in front of Remus. Probably not very long, considering all he wanted to do was leap across the table and shag Harry to within an inch of his life.
"I'd like some meat, Remus," Harry volunteered loudly, raising an eyebrow at Draco and biting back the urge to snicker into his napkin.
Oh, so that’s how they were playing it. Draco smirked, gazing intently across the table at Harry. “Allow me,” he offered before Remus could move, taking up the serving fork and holding his hand out for Harry’s plate. “How much would you like?”
"Oh," said Harry, eyeing the platter with affected nonchalance, "I don't know. But I'd like a really thick piece, wouldn't you?"
Draco leered. Until Remus cleared his throat and reminded Draco of his presence. Shit. Heat traveled up his neck and he lowered his eyes as he served the roast to Harry. “Um. Here you are, then.”
Harry snorted into his waterglass, then quickly tried to compose himself. "Remus, could you please pass the rolls?" Remus did, and they ate in strained silence for a few minutes, until to Harry's relief Remus asked Draco how training was going.
Wonderful, time for awkward conversation. Draco shrugged softly, glancing briefly at Harry before giving Remus his full attention. “It’s going well, I suppose. I’ve been a bit off my game lately, but…I think things are looking up.” Another glance at Harry, to seek out a bit of reassurance that he obviously found, because a smile tugged at his lips as he took a bite of his roast beef.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Things were looking up, alright; it was becoming slightly embarrassing just how up things were looking. He'd never realised what a problem this was, before, the way some people don't realise they have a problem with drink until they're facedown in a ditch - he was in love with Draco, head over heels, arse over teakettle, to the point where even being near him was like the strongest aphrodisiac and Harry was weak in the knees. Harry took another bite of his roll and chewed it thoughtfully, smiling vaguely whenever Remus or Draco said something. It was a strange feeling, this love business, like being simultaneously caressed and punched in the face when the other person looked at you or talked or even stood in the same room. He hadn't been aware that he was staring until Remus leaned over and lightly punched him in the shoulder, joking, "you can look away now and then, Harry. He'll still be here after dinner."
Harry coloured for what felt like the thousandth time that evening and pushed his carrots around his plate, muttering, "right, yeah, sorry," but he couldn't help sneaking another furtive glance at Draco, and he certainly couldn't help the heat that exploded like a Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bang in the pit of his stomach when Draco returned his smile.
Despite how nice this was, sitting around the table with Harry and Remus, feeling like a real family, Draco could help but feel relieved when Remus announced that it was time for dessert, pushing himself up and clearing the table after waving Harry and Draco both back into their seats. They would eat dessert and then maybe Remus would actually give them a moment alone to talk or touch or snog, because fuck if Harry wasn’t giving Draco the worst hard-on he’d ever had in his life, the way he was staring.
Draco smiled his thanks when Remus placed the bowl of chocolate pudding in front of him, forcing himself not to dig in and completely devour it so they could end the meal. He could wait. He was an adult, and damn it, he could control himself for five minutes. Steadily, he dipped his spoon into the pudding and placed it in his mouth, humming softly. It was a good thing he wasn’t planning on rushing this, this pudding was fantastic. He made sure to get every bit from his spoon before dipping it again, closing his eyes briefly. Delicious.
Oh.
Oh god.
Harry had never thought about pudding as being sexually charged before, but he was most definitely thinking about it now, watching Draco lick his off the spoon and taking what seemed to be an obscene amount of pleasure in the proceedings. Harry knew that Remus could make some good pudding, but he was willing to bet that it wasn't that good. Not enough to warrant the inflaming little flicks of the tongue against the spoon that had Harry nearly coming in his pants, or the longer, broader swirling motions that ensured Draco tasted every tiny bit of chocolate there was to be had. Huffing, Harry adjusted himself and took a mouthful of the creamy dessert himself. Two could play at that game.
Draco opened his eyes to get another spoonful, glancing across the table with the intention of smiling at Harry. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat and his cock go instantly hard. That… That had to be illegal. Pink tongue darting out to catch a bit of pudding with just the tip, pink lips closing around the spoon. It was obscenely arousing, and Draco bit down hard on his tongue to keep from rubbing himself through his trousers. And Harry… Harry knew exactly what he was doing, judging by the way he caught Draco’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. That bastard.
Staring directly into Harry’s eyes, Draco mirrored his actions, lapping at his spoon and humming softly every so often, more so from imagining that mouth around his prick instead of that spoon than anything else. He was so intent on what he and Harry were doing that it actually surprised him when Remus cleared his throat and stood up. He blinked and stared up at the man, spoon still in his mouth.
“Should I leave you two and your pudding alone?” Remus asked, looking between the two before bringing his empty bowl to the sink. “…I think I’ll go read for a bit in my bedroom. It was nice to see you again, Draco.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Harry’s head as he passed, ruffling his hair gently. “Be good.”
Good? Oh no, Harry was most definitely not going to be good. Good did not involve sweeping all the dishes off the table and onto the floor to clear a place to shag (there were always cleaning and repairing spells for the aftermath, but Harry wasn't thinking about those right now); good was not striding around the table and grabbing his boyfriend by the collar, thereby dragging him down for a kiss, and good certainly wasn't being unceremoniously pushed down over said table to be have his mouth plundered and his cock frotted against, though Harry thought it was very good indeed.
"Wanted....oh god," he panted, rubbing his cheek against Draco's, one palm flat against the warmth of Draco's firm stomach, "wanted this so bad. Missed - oh! - missed you so much."
“Missed you,” Draco whispered, practically crawling on top of Harry as he thrust down against him. “God, Harry, missed you so much, you have no idea.” He turned his face into Harry’s neck, panting into his skin as his hips rolled almost uncontrollably. Something in the back of his mind was shouting that they were supposed to be taking this slow, but he ignored it, yanking Harry’s shirt from his trousers and sliding a hand up his back, fingers and nails digging into his skin as he gripped him tightly, held him close.
Harry gave a keening moan as Draco rocked against him, one he thought later that Remus must surely have been able to hear all the way down the hall. His lips searched for Draco's, and found them, coaxed his mouth open, teased his tongue with his own. His hands slid around the back of Draco's neck in a classic gesture of tenderness and possession - his whole life, he never wanted anything else; he wanted to be kissed and touched and held his every waking moment, and if he died of pleasure right there on that table, well then, he would die happy. He made to tug Draco's shirt over his head, but when he was met with resistance, had to open his eyes and meet Draco's mournful expression.
Draco shook his head slightly, leaning in for another slow, sweet kiss, forcing his hips to stop moving. He hated the confused look Harry was giving him. It made him want to throw everything out the window and shag him right there. But he couldn’t. After a long moment he pulled back and nuzzled tenderly into Harry’s cheek, closing his eyes. “Slow,” he murmured, sliding a hand up to curl gently into Harry’s hair. “Remember? …I want this to work.”
"Right, slow," Harry groaned, trying to will his erection away, "god, I'm stupid." Draco grinned breathlessly at him and Harry allowed himself one final kiss before he extricated himself from Draco's limbs and pulled himself to his feet. He looked around at the kitchen.....broken crockery and glasses, food strewn everywhere, chairs overturned...Harry was momentarily glad that Hermione had taught him so many spells that had to do with tidying. It took them half an hour, but together managed to repair Remus' dishes and swept the floor, and when they were done Harry allowed himself to look at his boyfriend again and give a crooked little smile.
"Can we at least snog on the couch for a while?"
Draco laughed, curling his fingers into Harry’s sleeve and tugging him into a soft kiss. “I think snogging on the couch is a brilliant idea,” he agreed, leading him from the kitchen and over to the sofa in the next room. He sat beside the arm and peered innocently up at Harry, patting the empty spot next to him. Maybe this taking it slow thing was a good idea after all. Because really, they never got the chance to evolve into the relationship they had, they just sort of…jumped in. And now they could do all the things they missed the first time around, like getting caught by an adult (check), having a dinner date (check, and bonus points for having a chaperone), and snogging on the sofa.
Harry sat; at first it was kind of awkward, all jostling elbows and bumping knees as they tried to decide whose limbs went where, but eventually they found a position that was comfortable for them both, with Harry half-lying across Draco's lap, his head pillowed on Draco's shoulder, and Draco's arms twined tightly around him. It felt both romantic and ridiculous, a bit like an old Hollywood movie, but it proved to be a very advantageous position to snog in, what with the close proximity and minimal neck strain, so Harry decided not to think about it too much. There were much better things to think about, like the lovely and unfamiliar feeling of being held so closely, and of the quiet, weirdly erotic sounds Draco made deep in his throat when Harry nipped at his throat; of the exact shape and size and softness of Draco's lips as they pressed against Harry's, of the simple sensations of pleasure that Draco could evoke from Harry by idly toying with the hem of his cotton t-shirt and lightly stroking the quaking belly beneath.
At least one good thing had come from that horrible fight. This was the sweetest, most sensual, most arousing kiss they’d ever shared, and Draco wanted it to go on forever. He had one arm around Harry’s shoulders and the other playing with the front of his shirt, fingers circling his navel idly before sliding up to cup the side of his face. His thumb brushed Harry’s jaw and adjusted the angle of their kiss as his tongue slid inside to re-explore the familiar territory of Harry’s mouth. He had every inch of it memorized. The soft ridges on the roof of his mouth, down to the crooked molar on the top left. When the need to breathe overpowered his need to stay attached to Harry, he let his mouth travel up the side of Harry’s jaw, nibbling softly just under his earlobe, raining kisses down the side of his neck.
“Harry,” he whispered between kisses, eyes closed, every nerve on edge. “…I love you.”
Harry's eyes flew open, and he drew back just enough to properly look at Draco, who was now regarding him fearfully, as if he was scared of being hit, or worse, rejected. A very quiet and profound feeling swept through Harry, rapidly followed by a wild blaze of joy, and it was all he could do to restrain himself long enough to murmur, "Me too. I mean, I love you too," before sealing his mouth against Draco's again in the most passionate and enthusiastic kiss yet.
Then he thought of something else and pulled back again. "Can we have sex now?"
“Stupid prat,” Draco murmured fondly, smiling at Harry. “No.” Slow. They were taking it slow and that was final. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and leaned in for another kiss, just a soft one, before leaning his forehead against Harry’s. “…Maybe I should go,” he suggested quietly. Honestly, he wanted to do anything but leave, but Merlin, the temptation… It was almost too much to take.
"No," breathed Harry, threading his fingers through Draco's hair (it was getting long, wasn't it?), capturing his lips over and over in the lightest and quickest of kisses. "Stay a while longer. I'll be good, I promise."
Draco was torn between what his mind was telling him to do and what Harry’s lips felt like against his own. …Damn it. He sighed, giving in. “Just a while,” he whispered, stroking his fingertips down Harry’s cheek.
***
Dear Draco
(or is that Sweetums?) I hope this letter finds you well. Remus continues to overfeed me as usual; I hope you can deal with twenty extra pounds of Harry when I come back. How is training going? Did you do well in your strength test on Thursday?
I just may be the most boring boyfriend ever.........
Looking forward to the moment when you shag me silly,
Harry
*
Dear Harry,
If you cherish your life at all, you will never call me “Sweetums” again.
I’m glad he’s feeding you, you’re so skinny I fear for your safety when a breeze comes along. You have nothing to worry about, though, I’m sure Kelly will work it right back off when you get back. Bloody tyrant, she is. Had me run 10 kilometers yesterday. In my gear. I nearly died. Strength test went alright, though.
So bloody sore. Wish you were here to give me a rub down.
When are you coming back?
Draco
*
Draco,
What are your feelings on being called "Muffin"? Or "Cupcake?" or "Apple Strudel?"
Shut up I'm not skinny.
Too bad I'm not there. Perhaps you'll just have to get some oil, and...ahem...rub yourself.
Two more days with Remus.
Harry
*
Harry,
What are your feelings on being called “Dead?”
Please, you’re practically invisible when you turn sideways.
I’m too sore to even wank, if you can believe that. I skipped lunch and had a nap, and when I woke up I could barely move. Had to go to the medic for a massage before I even started feeling like a human again.
Two more days. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive two more days without you. I miss you.
Draco
*
Draco,
If it's "Dead" as in, "Dead From Incredible Sex All Night Long", then I can't really say I have any objections.
Too bad about being sore from wanking. I was going to tell you about fantasy I had about you in the shower this afternoon, but I guess that would be unkind of me.
I'm thinking of coming back from leave a day early. As in, tomorrow. Think you'll be able to survive until then?
Missing you too,
Harry
*
Harry,
Massage helped. Feeling much better, and actually had a wank over you thinking of me in the shower. Then had a shower and fantasy of my own. Thought about that time you sucked me off after that particularly harsh training session, do you remember that? I was taking my shower, minding my own business when you barged in and practically smashed me against the wall. Not that I really cared, especially not after you fell right on your knees. Fuck, you looked gorgeous, water dripping down your face, eyes closed, hair plastered against your forehead, my cock in your mouth. Hell, I’m getting hard again just thinking about it right now. I bet you are too. You probably had to excuse yourself to the loo to read this, so Remus couldn’t see how flustered you were getting. Am I right?
I think I might be able to survive until tomorrow. Can you?
Draco
*
Draco stop coming home now stop be naked when I get there stop Harry stop
***
As soon as the message from Harry was in Draco’s hands, pulses of excitement shot through his body. Harry was coming home. And from the sounds of it, Draco was going to get the shagging of a lifetime. He immediately scrambled for his wand, cleaning their tiny cabin as quickly as he could, changing the sheets on his bed, hiding the dirty clothes, digging the condoms and lube from his sock drawer. Nervousness mixed in with the excitement as he peeled off his clothes and tossed them into the basket. Should he prep himself? Would Harry want to do it? Bugger, this was more nerve wracking than their first time.
Forcing himself to relax (as much as he could, anyway ), Draco sat on the bed, back against the headboard, bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for Harry to arrive.
Harry didn't even bother to pack his things, or to tell Remus he was leaving - after he'd sent his last terse missive to Draco, he'd rushed through a hot shower and then struggled to dress himself as quickly as he could, managing to put his shirt on first inside-out and then backwards before he got it right. His hair was still wet by the time he reached the apparition zone outside of camp, and both of his shoelaces were untied, but that didn't stop him from sprinting all the way across the grounds (why hadn't he realised quite how far it was, before?) to their little cabin on the cliff. Past the dinner hall, around the running track, left at the Academy building, and down across a very large and neatly manicured green lawn; with every step he drew nearer and nearer - he could see the bright blue door behind which Draco undoubtedly waited - and then he was finally, finally there, flinging the door open, striding across the room, and pouncing on a very naked and smug-looking Draco. Harry took a moment to snog the smirk off his face, drawing it out until they were both breathless, and only then did he lift his head enough to rasp out, "miss me?"
Draco gripped Harry by the arms, fingers digging into his flesh as he kissed him back as if his very life depended on it. By the time Harry pulled away, his head was spinning and his hips were rocking on their own accord and Draco thought he might die right there if Harry wasn’t inside of him that instant. “Lock the door and take off your clothes,” Draco ordered in response, biting Harry’s bottom lip none-too-gently. “I need you in me now.”
Done. Harry groped blindly for his wand and cast the spell, and then cast muffliato just to be on the safe side before stripping off his shirt and trousers and pants. He nudged Draco onto his belly and reached for the lube, taking a moment to slick his already aching cock before sliding two fingers slowly into Draco, pushing and stretching and teasing. "Good?" He asked. When Draco shuddered and moaned something affirmative, Harry added a third, careful to nudge his prostate, shuddering himself as Draco broke out in a sweat and shoved himself back onto Harry's fingers, begging wordlessly for more. Enough foreplay, then. Harry positioned himself over Draco, coaxing him up onto shaking knees, his hands grasping the slim hips, and slid carefully home, moaning at the sensations and inflamed by Draco's answering whine.
Oh fucking hell, it had been too sodding long. Too long without this, without Harry. Bloody hell. Draco lost himself for a moment in the movement of Harry’s hips, the hands on his body, the warmth pressed against his back, before he shook his head roughly. “Wait,” he choked out, fingers curling into the sheets. “Wait. I want… Want to face you. N-need to see you.”
With a Herculean effort Harry managed to stop his thrusts and pull back so that Draco could turn over again and rearrange himself. It was not the most dignified of positions, Harry had to admit (really, few things about sex could be called dignified), given that Draco's feet were in the air, but the opportunity to look at one another as they fucked, and the rather scorching view of Draco's body that he was afforded, not to mention easy access to his cock, was more than enough to make up for it. He leaned forward to kiss and bite at Draco's lips as he pushed in again. Oh, this was good. Too good. Harry reached for Draco's cock and fisted it lazily as he thrust. He probably wasn't going to last long, but damned if he wasn't going to squeeze every ounce of pleasure from those moments.
Oh, that was more like it. Draco wrapped himself completely around Harry as best he could, arms around his shoulders, feet vaguely situated at his back, as if trying to devour Harry completely. His fingers curled tightly into the dark locks atop Harry’s head, keeping Harry’s mouth pressed firmly against his own. This was, quite possibly, the greatest benefit of this position. Harry was an excellent kisser, gentle and firm and yielding and demanding all at once, and Draco never felt more wanted than he did when Harry was kissing him. It was perfect. Perfect and fantastic and amazing and…right.
“Harder,” he whispered against Harry’s lips, hips arching into every thrust. He wanted to be able to feel this in the morning.
Harry could do harder. He could do faster. He would do anything and everything Draco wanted him to do if only it meant prolonging the rush of pleasure shifting back and forth between their bodies. He lowered his body over Draco's until their noses were almost touching and felt his body pick up the pace almost of its own accord. His hand was fairly flying over Draco's cock now, and his lover was beginning to make that soft, breathy groan that meant he was close, which was good because Harry's own senses were beginning to cloud over, and he felt that familiar distant ache at the base of his spine that meant his own release was not far off.
Draco panted, lips just barely touching Harry’s now, as he tried to hold off, tried to make this last as long as he could. But Harry was hitting his prostate on almost every stroke now, and his hand was stroking him just right, and he could feel his body tightening in preparation. Draco opened his eyes to mere slits, gazing up at Harry and digging his fingernails into the other man’s shoulders. God, this was it. “Love you,” Draco breathed before his eyes closed and his back arched and he was coming, cock painting stripes across his and Harry’s bellies until it and his entire body went limp.
It only took three more short, hard, strokes after Draco had finished, and then Harry was coming too, groaning loudly as his vision went white and he collapsed unceremoniously on top of his lover. It was probably uncomfortable for Draco, but at the moment Harry was hard-pressed to care. He was still gasping as the aftershocks tore through him, each one a small electric jolt that had him shuddering faintly even after his orgasm. Wanking was never as satisfying as this. His cock still buried deep inside, Harry leaned down and turned Draco's face toward him, kissing him tenderly. "I love you too."
Draco gave Harry a lazy smile, fingers tracing light patterns up and down Harry’s back. He gave them both a minute to catch their breath and exchange soft, sweet kisses before separating from Harry just enough to look him in the eye. “I know I told you in my letters, but… I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry.”
Harry took a deep breath and pulled out carefully, rolling to the side to put the condom in the wastebasket. He lay down again and pulled Draco against him, pulling the sheets up over them both. "It's okay," he said at last, kissing Draco's forehead, "I kind of understood where you were coming from. And I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have made a scene in such a public place.”
Draco curled gratefully against Harry’s chest, shaking his head. “Never should have tried to hide this in the first place. I just… I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want the press barging into our lives and fucking everything up. …Though I guess I did that pretty well on my own.”
"You did," Harry agreed cheekily, "but I forgive you." He grinned at Draco and ran one of his feet up Draco's calf under the sheets.
Draco shied away, swatting Harry on the arse and giving him an incredulous look. “…I can’t bloody believe I just let you shag me while you had your socks still on. Take them off.” Bloody hell, he hadn’t realized he was that desperate.
"C'mon," Harry tried, rolling over his boyfriend and tickling his toes with his own sock-clad feet, "you mean it doesn't turn you on at all?"
"Not even a little bit," replied Draco, laughing despite himself as he pushed Harry away. "I said off!"
Pouting, Harry reached down and attempted to remove his socks in the sexiest manner possible, rolling them down his calves and them pulling them off his feet with a little flourish and a wave. "Not even now?"
"In your dreams, Potty."
As soon as those damned socks were off, Draco pushed Harry back down on the bed and wiggled himself as close as he could get without crawling inside of him. That was more like it. He tangled their legs together and kissed Harry’s chest. “…Next time we go out, I want to hold your hand.”
"You? Want to hold my hand?" Harry teased, grinning even wider as Draco flushed. "I'm sure something can be arranged." And with that, he snuggled down and put his head on Draco's shoulder, eyes closed, ready for a good long sleep before the next round.
“Prat,” Draco whispered fondly, stroking his fingers gently through Harry’s hair until sleep overtook them both.