Fic: Same Kind of Different (Draco/Harry)
Title: Same Kind of Different
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: Adult
Summary: Harry realizes that maybe he and Draco are the same kind of different
Word Count: 2230
“I think you’re susceptible to trouble, Potter.”
Harry closes his eyes and counts to ten when he hears the familiar drawl behind him. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?”
“Now, now, Potter. No need to take that tone with me. As I see it, you need my help.”
“Someone put a charm on the door,” Harry says, not even having to see Malfoy to know he’s smirking. “I can’t move.”
“Why were you attempting to enter the Potions classroom?” Malfoy’s voice is closer, and Harry could swear he feels warm breath against his ear.
“I had tea with Headmistress McGonagall, and I thought I’d take a look around before leaving.” Harry makes a face. It’s a moment of nostalgia that he wishes now he hadn’t had. “I didn’t realize that Slughorn had put charms up to prevent anyone from entering the room.”
“Slughorn is no longer the Potions master at Hogwarts, Potter. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. Didn’t Longbottom owl you with the news or is the Goody Goody Gossip Network failing?”
“There is no such network, and, no, Neville hasn’t mentioned it. Who’s replacing Slughorn?” Harry has a sneaky suspicion considering Malfoy’s presence at the school before classes begin, but he isn’t sure why Minerva would hire someone like him or why he’d want to be a professor in the first place.
“Someone intelligent enough to put up charms to prevent sneaky students from having access to potion ingredients,” Malfoy says. “While I doubt any students are as prone to mischief as you and Granger were, I see no reason not to be cautious.”
“You’re one to talk,” Harry points out. “You can release me now, and I’ll get out of your way. If I’d had any idea Slughorn had retired, I wouldn’t have come down here at all.”
“Now I’m hurt.” Malfoy drags his fingers across the back of Harry’s neck. “You’d rather see Sluggy than me? Really?”
“No, really I’d choose neither.” Harry frowns at the closed door. “I can’t believe Minerva would allow you to use a charm like this. It’s putting the students at risk.”
“It’s only putting them at risk if they attempt to gain access to the classroom during off-hours. Considering the potential for danger that could be involved if the wrong ingredients are mixed, I’m actually providing an extra measure of security. McGonagall is most pleased with my suggestion.” Malfoy sounds smug, and Harry’s glad he can’t see his smirky face or else he might hex him. “But, please, run to her to whinge like a spoiled firsty so I can enjoy her putting you in your place.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” he mutters, looking to his left then his right but unable to see anything because Malfoy is deliberately keeping himself out of sight. “What are you even doing here? Tired of living off Daddy’s vault?”
“Why I’m here is my business, Potter.” He must have touched a nerve because Malfoy sounds sharp and snippy now. “And I haven’t lived off my family’s vault since I turned eighteen and came into my own inheritance.”
Harry snorts. “I’m sure your intended just loves trading in the life of a society bride to live at Hogwarts. Do they even allow spouses to live here?” He’s actually curious about that since he never saw any before, but it’s not something he ever paid attention to back then anyway.
“I have no intended, but it’s interesting that you seem to know all about my life. I wonder why that is,” Malfoy drawls. “Are you stalking me, Potter? Is that why you’re really here?”
“You wish.” Harry isn’t about to admit that he tends to keep an ear open to gossip about Malfoy. “I heard one of my aurors gushing over some article regarding your fiancé’s wedding arrangements. Greengrass, isn’t it?”
“It was, but Astoria and I have called it off. We want different things, so we’re fortunate to have learned that prior to the ceremony.” Malfoy is touching his back. Harry can feel his fingers running down his spine, and he can’t step away because he’s still frozen in place. “What about you and She-Weasel? I haven’t seen any wedding announcements or a dozen nearsighted redhead children running about.”
“Like you and your intended, we realized fairly quickly that we wanted different things.” Harry’s not going to tell Malfoy that he and Ginny had actually figured out they weren’t compatible because they both wanted a man with strong shoulders and a nice cock. That bit of information isn’t public knowledge, obviously, and Harry has no interest in discussing his sexual preferences with Malfoy. “There’s no need to worry. You won’t have any of my children attending school here.”
“I wasn’t concerned.” Malfoy’s voice is now right by Harry’s ear. “I’m not a bully anymore, Potter. I certainly have no intention of harassing children just because their parents might not be on my list of favorite people. Regardless of what you think of me, I’m teaching because I want to do something worthwhile with my life, and I don’t loathe children as much as I generally dislike most adults.”
Harry hates that he actually feels guilty because he had inadvertently compared Malfoy with Snape. While Snape might have turned out to be a hero with secrets, that certainly didn’t erase the years of mistreating students like Neville and even Harry. “Children are much more tolerable most of the time,” he agrees, deciding that’s enough of an apology.
“Did you need anything specific from the potions classroom or were you honestly feeling sentimental like an elderly wizard revisiting his childhood haunts?” Malfoy’s lips press against Harry’s ear, which causes him to gulp. It’s an accident, he’s sure, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t lips pressing against a sensitive spot.
“You need to release the charm, Malfoy, and I’ll leave.” Harry can’t see him, but it’s relatively easy to remember the angular face, soft blond hair, and lean body. The last time he’d seen Malfoy had been after the trials, so he knows he’s probably changed during those two years. Is his hair longer now? Is he still pale and gaunt? If Harry isn’t focused on their former rivalry, he finds himself dwelling on the latent attraction that he never recognized until after Ginny sat him down and helped him understand he fancied blokes.
“You’re not listening to me, Potter.” Malfoy presses against his back. “What are you thinking about so intently that has you letting your guard down around me? I have the perfect opportunity to do all kinds of scandalous things to you right now, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
“You won’t.” Harry thinks back over what Malfoy’s said since finding him and finds himself curious enough to actually ask, “What did you and Astoria want that’s different?”
“We aren’t friends, so why would I ever discuss my private life with you?” Malfoy is touching his neck again; just a whisper of fingertips against his skin, and Harry knows he’s not imagining it.
“Did she want children and you don’t? Or vice versa?” Harry’s not going to drop it because he has that feeling he gets when he puts pieces together to figure out a puzzle. Hermione calls it intuition. It’s in his gut right now because Malfoy could have just released him immediately and been rid of him, but he’s kept him there for a reason, and he thinks he maybe knows why, even if it seems absurd. “Or did you have the same taste in men?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Harry knows he’s struck his mark. They’re the same kind of different. The knowledge that Malfoy shares his own interest in men shouldn’t excite him as much as it does, but Harry’s honest enough with himself to know he’s lonely, hasn’t had sex in far too long since it usually requires sneaking off to the Muggle world and trying to pull, which he’s bollocks at, and he finds Malfoy attractive even if he’s a spoiled Pureblood brat. Well, he used to be a brat, but the war changed them all, and Harry knows Malfoy’s not the same as he used to be any more than Harry’s the same.
“That’s the problem Ginny and I had, you see,” he continues talking, keeping his voice low because he’s admitting something that only a very small handful of people even know. “We both like fit men with strong hands and nice cocks.”
“Finite Incantatem.” Malfoy whispers the word, and Harry stumbles forward against the door when the spell is released. He turns around, moving his gaze over Malfoy. He’s filled out since Harry lost saw him, his hair is brushing against his shoulders, and it softens the sharpness of his features in a way that Harry finds attractive. Malfoy sneers at him. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? How did you find out? Is that why you’re here? Come down to humiliate me even more than I’ve already been having to explain to my parents why I can’t marry Astoria and why they’ll never have grandchildren?”
“You can still have children even if you prefer wizards,” Harry points out. “Hermione’s given me files of research about it since I told her I was gay, and there are a lot of different options when I get older and want to start a family of my own. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Malfoy. It’s just part of who we are, and it’s not something we can change or choose to do differently.”
“Granger researched it for you?” Malfoy’s eyebrow is almost to his hairline, it’s arched so high. “You really are? You’re not just saying it to get to me?”
Harry sighs and rolls his eyes. Instead of answering, he steps forward, tangles his fingers in Malfoy’s hair, and kisses him. Malfoy gasps and Harry takes advantage by licking at his parted lips then slipping his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth. It just takes a few flicks of his tongue to get Malfoy to finally respond. Harry feels the stone wall against his back as Malfoy shoves him against it, both of them fighting for control of the kiss, and he’s a little embarrassed to feel his cock starting to harden just from the kissing and feel of someone pressing against him.
It’s just been too bloody long. Malfoy’s touching him now, shoving his shirt up and touching his ribs, still fighting him for control of the kiss, and it’s more passion than Harry’s ever felt, which makes him wonder how brilliant it would be if they were doing this in a bed and not against a wall where anyone could walk past. Thank Merlin it’s quiet in the dungeons usually because Harry doesn’t think he’s going to try to stop this. Not when it feels so good, and it almost feels like something he’s wanted for longer than he even realized.
Harry stops letting Malfoy do everything. He pulls the robe open and starts touching, too, rubbing at Malfoy’s nipples through his shirt then moving his hands beneath the cloth so he can scratch at his back. Harry shifts his legs apart and groans when Malfoy takes the hint and presses his leg between them. Malfoy’s hard against Harry’s thigh, so he grips his arse and pulls him closer, letting him rut against his leg the same way he’s doing to Malfoy’s. The friction is amazing, and so is the kissing and touching. Harry’s being a little rough, squeezing and scratching, but Malfoy’s almost too gentle, touching him like he’s going to bloody break and driving him wild with those soft caresses.
When Harry comes, he arches off the wall and tilts his head back, forgetting that the stone isn’t going to just give way. He bangs his head hard enough to probably bruise, but he’s not feeling any pain right now as he orgasms, spilling in his pants like a teenager getting lucky for the first time. Malfoy’s coming, too, grunting into their kiss and bucking against Harry’s thigh. They stand there for what might be seconds but is probably minutes, dazed and satisfied, breathing against each other’s mouths as they try to catch their breath.
“Fuck,” Harry finally whispers, blinking as he reaches up to straighten his glasses and run his fingers through his hair.
“You’re a mess,” Malfoy mutters, taking a step back and looking at him. He’s trying to smooth down his hair from where Harry’s mussed it up and straightening his robe.
“So’re you.” Harry slowly grins. He’s not sure where this is going, if anywhere, but he decides to throw caution to the wind and enjoy the journey wherever it leads. “So, that happened.”
“I don’t understand why you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw. You’re such a prodigy.” Malfoy rolls his eyes but it’s obvious that he’s fighting a smile.
“You’ve got chambers down here, which means a bed,” Harry continues.
“I’m not particularly impressed with your intelligence yet, Potter.” Malfoy reaches over to help Harry fix his shirt.
“That’s because you’re not letting me finish. Anyway, a bed means it could happen again, only with fewer clothes and more blowjobs.” Harry stretches and rubs the back of his head where he hit it earlier.
Malfoy studies him a moment before he smiles slightly. “Forgive me. I’ve been wrong. You’re a bloody genius, Potter.”
End
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: Adult
Summary: Harry realizes that maybe he and Draco are the same kind of different
Word Count: 2230
“I think you’re susceptible to trouble, Potter.”
Harry closes his eyes and counts to ten when he hears the familiar drawl behind him. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?”
“Now, now, Potter. No need to take that tone with me. As I see it, you need my help.”
“Someone put a charm on the door,” Harry says, not even having to see Malfoy to know he’s smirking. “I can’t move.”
“Why were you attempting to enter the Potions classroom?” Malfoy’s voice is closer, and Harry could swear he feels warm breath against his ear.
“I had tea with Headmistress McGonagall, and I thought I’d take a look around before leaving.” Harry makes a face. It’s a moment of nostalgia that he wishes now he hadn’t had. “I didn’t realize that Slughorn had put charms up to prevent anyone from entering the room.”
“Slughorn is no longer the Potions master at Hogwarts, Potter. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. Didn’t Longbottom owl you with the news or is the Goody Goody Gossip Network failing?”
“There is no such network, and, no, Neville hasn’t mentioned it. Who’s replacing Slughorn?” Harry has a sneaky suspicion considering Malfoy’s presence at the school before classes begin, but he isn’t sure why Minerva would hire someone like him or why he’d want to be a professor in the first place.
“Someone intelligent enough to put up charms to prevent sneaky students from having access to potion ingredients,” Malfoy says. “While I doubt any students are as prone to mischief as you and Granger were, I see no reason not to be cautious.”
“You’re one to talk,” Harry points out. “You can release me now, and I’ll get out of your way. If I’d had any idea Slughorn had retired, I wouldn’t have come down here at all.”
“Now I’m hurt.” Malfoy drags his fingers across the back of Harry’s neck. “You’d rather see Sluggy than me? Really?”
“No, really I’d choose neither.” Harry frowns at the closed door. “I can’t believe Minerva would allow you to use a charm like this. It’s putting the students at risk.”
“It’s only putting them at risk if they attempt to gain access to the classroom during off-hours. Considering the potential for danger that could be involved if the wrong ingredients are mixed, I’m actually providing an extra measure of security. McGonagall is most pleased with my suggestion.” Malfoy sounds smug, and Harry’s glad he can’t see his smirky face or else he might hex him. “But, please, run to her to whinge like a spoiled firsty so I can enjoy her putting you in your place.”
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” he mutters, looking to his left then his right but unable to see anything because Malfoy is deliberately keeping himself out of sight. “What are you even doing here? Tired of living off Daddy’s vault?”
“Why I’m here is my business, Potter.” He must have touched a nerve because Malfoy sounds sharp and snippy now. “And I haven’t lived off my family’s vault since I turned eighteen and came into my own inheritance.”
Harry snorts. “I’m sure your intended just loves trading in the life of a society bride to live at Hogwarts. Do they even allow spouses to live here?” He’s actually curious about that since he never saw any before, but it’s not something he ever paid attention to back then anyway.
“I have no intended, but it’s interesting that you seem to know all about my life. I wonder why that is,” Malfoy drawls. “Are you stalking me, Potter? Is that why you’re really here?”
“You wish.” Harry isn’t about to admit that he tends to keep an ear open to gossip about Malfoy. “I heard one of my aurors gushing over some article regarding your fiancé’s wedding arrangements. Greengrass, isn’t it?”
“It was, but Astoria and I have called it off. We want different things, so we’re fortunate to have learned that prior to the ceremony.” Malfoy is touching his back. Harry can feel his fingers running down his spine, and he can’t step away because he’s still frozen in place. “What about you and She-Weasel? I haven’t seen any wedding announcements or a dozen nearsighted redhead children running about.”
“Like you and your intended, we realized fairly quickly that we wanted different things.” Harry’s not going to tell Malfoy that he and Ginny had actually figured out they weren’t compatible because they both wanted a man with strong shoulders and a nice cock. That bit of information isn’t public knowledge, obviously, and Harry has no interest in discussing his sexual preferences with Malfoy. “There’s no need to worry. You won’t have any of my children attending school here.”
“I wasn’t concerned.” Malfoy’s voice is now right by Harry’s ear. “I’m not a bully anymore, Potter. I certainly have no intention of harassing children just because their parents might not be on my list of favorite people. Regardless of what you think of me, I’m teaching because I want to do something worthwhile with my life, and I don’t loathe children as much as I generally dislike most adults.”
Harry hates that he actually feels guilty because he had inadvertently compared Malfoy with Snape. While Snape might have turned out to be a hero with secrets, that certainly didn’t erase the years of mistreating students like Neville and even Harry. “Children are much more tolerable most of the time,” he agrees, deciding that’s enough of an apology.
“Did you need anything specific from the potions classroom or were you honestly feeling sentimental like an elderly wizard revisiting his childhood haunts?” Malfoy’s lips press against Harry’s ear, which causes him to gulp. It’s an accident, he’s sure, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t lips pressing against a sensitive spot.
“You need to release the charm, Malfoy, and I’ll leave.” Harry can’t see him, but it’s relatively easy to remember the angular face, soft blond hair, and lean body. The last time he’d seen Malfoy had been after the trials, so he knows he’s probably changed during those two years. Is his hair longer now? Is he still pale and gaunt? If Harry isn’t focused on their former rivalry, he finds himself dwelling on the latent attraction that he never recognized until after Ginny sat him down and helped him understand he fancied blokes.
“You’re not listening to me, Potter.” Malfoy presses against his back. “What are you thinking about so intently that has you letting your guard down around me? I have the perfect opportunity to do all kinds of scandalous things to you right now, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
“You won’t.” Harry thinks back over what Malfoy’s said since finding him and finds himself curious enough to actually ask, “What did you and Astoria want that’s different?”
“We aren’t friends, so why would I ever discuss my private life with you?” Malfoy is touching his neck again; just a whisper of fingertips against his skin, and Harry knows he’s not imagining it.
“Did she want children and you don’t? Or vice versa?” Harry’s not going to drop it because he has that feeling he gets when he puts pieces together to figure out a puzzle. Hermione calls it intuition. It’s in his gut right now because Malfoy could have just released him immediately and been rid of him, but he’s kept him there for a reason, and he thinks he maybe knows why, even if it seems absurd. “Or did you have the same taste in men?”
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Harry knows he’s struck his mark. They’re the same kind of different. The knowledge that Malfoy shares his own interest in men shouldn’t excite him as much as it does, but Harry’s honest enough with himself to know he’s lonely, hasn’t had sex in far too long since it usually requires sneaking off to the Muggle world and trying to pull, which he’s bollocks at, and he finds Malfoy attractive even if he’s a spoiled Pureblood brat. Well, he used to be a brat, but the war changed them all, and Harry knows Malfoy’s not the same as he used to be any more than Harry’s the same.
“That’s the problem Ginny and I had, you see,” he continues talking, keeping his voice low because he’s admitting something that only a very small handful of people even know. “We both like fit men with strong hands and nice cocks.”
“Finite Incantatem.” Malfoy whispers the word, and Harry stumbles forward against the door when the spell is released. He turns around, moving his gaze over Malfoy. He’s filled out since Harry lost saw him, his hair is brushing against his shoulders, and it softens the sharpness of his features in a way that Harry finds attractive. Malfoy sneers at him. “You think you’re funny, don’t you? How did you find out? Is that why you’re here? Come down to humiliate me even more than I’ve already been having to explain to my parents why I can’t marry Astoria and why they’ll never have grandchildren?”
“You can still have children even if you prefer wizards,” Harry points out. “Hermione’s given me files of research about it since I told her I was gay, and there are a lot of different options when I get older and want to start a family of my own. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Malfoy. It’s just part of who we are, and it’s not something we can change or choose to do differently.”
“Granger researched it for you?” Malfoy’s eyebrow is almost to his hairline, it’s arched so high. “You really are? You’re not just saying it to get to me?”
Harry sighs and rolls his eyes. Instead of answering, he steps forward, tangles his fingers in Malfoy’s hair, and kisses him. Malfoy gasps and Harry takes advantage by licking at his parted lips then slipping his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth. It just takes a few flicks of his tongue to get Malfoy to finally respond. Harry feels the stone wall against his back as Malfoy shoves him against it, both of them fighting for control of the kiss, and he’s a little embarrassed to feel his cock starting to harden just from the kissing and feel of someone pressing against him.
It’s just been too bloody long. Malfoy’s touching him now, shoving his shirt up and touching his ribs, still fighting him for control of the kiss, and it’s more passion than Harry’s ever felt, which makes him wonder how brilliant it would be if they were doing this in a bed and not against a wall where anyone could walk past. Thank Merlin it’s quiet in the dungeons usually because Harry doesn’t think he’s going to try to stop this. Not when it feels so good, and it almost feels like something he’s wanted for longer than he even realized.
Harry stops letting Malfoy do everything. He pulls the robe open and starts touching, too, rubbing at Malfoy’s nipples through his shirt then moving his hands beneath the cloth so he can scratch at his back. Harry shifts his legs apart and groans when Malfoy takes the hint and presses his leg between them. Malfoy’s hard against Harry’s thigh, so he grips his arse and pulls him closer, letting him rut against his leg the same way he’s doing to Malfoy’s. The friction is amazing, and so is the kissing and touching. Harry’s being a little rough, squeezing and scratching, but Malfoy’s almost too gentle, touching him like he’s going to bloody break and driving him wild with those soft caresses.
When Harry comes, he arches off the wall and tilts his head back, forgetting that the stone isn’t going to just give way. He bangs his head hard enough to probably bruise, but he’s not feeling any pain right now as he orgasms, spilling in his pants like a teenager getting lucky for the first time. Malfoy’s coming, too, grunting into their kiss and bucking against Harry’s thigh. They stand there for what might be seconds but is probably minutes, dazed and satisfied, breathing against each other’s mouths as they try to catch their breath.
“Fuck,” Harry finally whispers, blinking as he reaches up to straighten his glasses and run his fingers through his hair.
“You’re a mess,” Malfoy mutters, taking a step back and looking at him. He’s trying to smooth down his hair from where Harry’s mussed it up and straightening his robe.
“So’re you.” Harry slowly grins. He’s not sure where this is going, if anywhere, but he decides to throw caution to the wind and enjoy the journey wherever it leads. “So, that happened.”
“I don’t understand why you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw. You’re such a prodigy.” Malfoy rolls his eyes but it’s obvious that he’s fighting a smile.
“You’ve got chambers down here, which means a bed,” Harry continues.
“I’m not particularly impressed with your intelligence yet, Potter.” Malfoy reaches over to help Harry fix his shirt.
“That’s because you’re not letting me finish. Anyway, a bed means it could happen again, only with fewer clothes and more blowjobs.” Harry stretches and rubs the back of his head where he hit it earlier.
Malfoy studies him a moment before he smiles slightly. “Forgive me. I’ve been wrong. You’re a bloody genius, Potter.”
End