Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry hasn’t seen Ginny so excited since... well, it’s been a long time, really. She was drunk and wobbly but so beautiful, with her hair in a messy bun and a long floral dress hugging her perfect figure. A red blush tinted her freckled cheeks, and her lips curled into a breathtaking smile. The lip gloss she applied just before they left their hotel room glimmered in the neon lights of Belfast as she kept dragging him along to the nearest bus stop. Harry almost wished they hadn’t broken up.

It’s been years, though it didn’t make the pain any more bearable. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of how good they could have been together if it wasn’t for the war. Or at least that’s what he told himself. The truth was, however, that the war was the only thing they could talk about afterwards. That and Quidditch, of course, but ever since it became Ginny’s job rather than her hobby, the conversations became boring and repetitive. They didn’t care much about anything else besides their work and shared trauma. But seeing Ginny here, so alive, so vibrant – it was something else, and Harry knew he hadn’t drunk enough not to feel the stinging pain in his chest.

“Where are we going?“ he asked curiously, still being dragged by his wrist. He enjoyed the feeling of her skin against his, so he didn’t put up much of a fight when she pushed him inside a big bus.

“You’ll see,” she smiled at him and sat down, straightening her dress. “The Harpies took me there a while ago. I think you’ll love it.”

“Are Ron and Hermione coming?” the boy – no, Harry was a full-grown man now – tilted his head and watched the street lights roam by. The bus was in motion.

Ginny shook her head, her bun dancing from side to side, “It’s just us today.”

Harry felt a strong pull at his heart, heat rising to his cheeks in an instant. Was this a date? Were they going to be fine?

He leaned his head against the cold window, his breath fogging up the glass. He knew he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up, but Ginny was right there next to him, grinning ear to ear, as perfect as a flower. And her fucking dress. She knew the dress drew him mad every time she wore it. Maybe it was her way of telling him they could try again. Maybe she only wanted a nice shag, and hell, Harry was all game regardless. Even if it hurt his feelings, he wanted to care for her and touch her and feel her hot breath on his face again. It’s been so long.

It was merely a thirty-minute drive. He wasn’t really paying attention, to be honest, since his thoughts were all over the place. Ginny tugged at his sleeve to gesture to him they had arrived, and Harry finally looked around, and oh, Merlin. He could smell gasoline and burnt plastic as soon as he hopped out of the large vehicle, making him scrunch his nose. His heart immediately started pumping rapidly due to the loud music. Who even thought it would be a good idea to make hip-hop this loud? The bass was ripping his eardrums apart, and he flinched, but Ginny was basically floating with happiness now.

He couldn’t afford to ruin his one and only chance.

“Wow,” he gritted through his teeth, “Where are we?”

She looked around and breathed in all the weird mechanical smells, smiling to herself. What a weird interest, honestly. “Dundrod. It’s a racing track.”

“Racing as in… Brooms?” he raised a bushy eyebrow, seeing her double over in laughter.

“Honestly, Harry, I thought you were aware of the existence of cars,” she giggled and nudged his side, then took a firm hold of his wrist and pulled him through the roaring crowd.

He looked at her, puzzled to the core, “You took me to a Muggle race? Why?”

“I told you – the Harpies took me here. We love going to these after a game. It’s a lot like watching Quidditch.”

It definitely wasn’t. It was smelly and loud and way more brutal, even fatal, since Muggles didn’t have all the healing spells and potions. But Ginny was happy. That was all that mattered. That’s why Harry found himself pushing through hundreds of people in funny clothes, gazing in awe at many colourful iron boxes on wheels. Some of their hoods were open, and Hary saw people leaning over to stare at the metal pipes, nodding their heads in agreement. It seemed a bit crazy, staring at a car and being so in love with it, but again, he was a bloody wizard who defeated a powerful dictator. There was nothing stranger than that.

He realised he recognised a few cars, feeling a bit proud for not being completely oblivious about this sort of thing. There was a bright red Honda Civic with all kinds of wild and offensive stickers, which belonged to a young-looking blonde boy. He looked around nineteen, and Harry wondered if this was his first car. If so, then he pitied the boy’s parents.

Another car he recognised was a pink Mazda Miata. He remembered that one only because it always made him so happy as a child. He used to wave at every single one he saw and jumped five feet high every time the driver popped the headlights. It was an exciting feeling, really. To a child’s mind, it seemed like the car was blinking and smiling at him. And this one did the same – blinked and smiled and even honked at him. He cocked his head to the side before noticing a pretty girl behind the steering wheel. Her skin was beautifully chocolate, and her hair wild. She winked at Harry and wiggled her fingers to get his attention, which she succeeded in.

He blushed, not being used to being flirted with, and turned his body to approach her. He pushed through a few men who were practically drooling all over the place, begging for her to look at them, but she only looked at Harry.

“Nice, uh, car you got there,” he smiled sheepishly, internally cringing. “Love the… The colour?”

The girl sent him a playful grin, popping the hood as well, showing him the… Well, whatever the engine was, it must’ve been pretty strong and impressive since he heard the fan club behind him gasp. He met her dark eyes, his own lost and curious.

“You have no clue what you’re looking at, do you?” she chuckled lowly and watched him shake his head. “Then maybe, if I win this, we could go for a ride.” She finished her sentence with yet another wink and invaded Harry’s personal space. He wanted to say yes, he really did, but–

“Harry!” Ginny called from behind him, snapping him out of his trance, completely ruining the moment. Now, if she doesn’t let him hit tonight, he’s going to be very mad.

The girl tilted her head and placed her soft hands on her curvy hips, “Oh, who’s your girlfriend over there? She can join, I wouldn’t mind.”

Scrumptious.

He could have two women pressed to his chest by the end of the night if he played his cards well.

“Absolutely not,” Ginny glared at the girl, and Harry could hear his dreams shatter like glass. Damnit. The ginger took his hand and, with quick steps, led him straight to a grandstand. He groaned a bit but shook his head afterwards to get over his frustration. Ginny was enough.

“You’re going to love this, I bet. So exciting!” she beamed and sat down comfortably, placing her handbag on the floor in front of her.

Harry raised an eyebrow at how stable she’d become, reaching into his pocket, “How about a drink to start the adventure?” He pulled out a crimson flask he had nicked from Seamus Finnigan many years ago. It was really beat down, and the red looked almost brown now, but it still worked perfectly well. In fact, too well, when one wanted to get shit-faced. He was sure Seamus put a charm on it because no matter how much he poured in, he seemed to end up drinking five times as much. It was as if the flask was endless, not that he minded, of course.

Ginny’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung wide open. She quickly grasped the flask and took a large swig. She didn’t even flinch, and Harry noted that besides taking her to ridiculous races, the Harpies taught her how to drink as well. Good, she needed that.

He mirrored her actions and felt the Firewhisky burn his throat, though now that the girl was a decent drinker, he couldn’t embarrass himself. He hid his reaction, smiling bitterly. He needed another gulp after Ginny reached for her hair tie and let her beautiful, soft hair fall over her shoulders. Then another when she smiled at him, and he would need another one when she reached for his hand, but a loud voice stopped them both in their tracks.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! It’s an absolute pleasure to see you all here tonight at the legendary Dundrod Circuit. What a fantastic evening for racing – clear skies, the smell of petrol in your noses, and the thunderous roar of engines echoing across the hills,” the commentator’s voice echoed all around Harry and made the air vibrate. “The stage is set for a spectacle like no other, with a lineup of stunning machines and drivers who are as fearless as they are fast. This is more than just a race… It’s a celebration of speed, precision, and pure adrenaline. So grab your earplugs, hold onto your seats, and get ready for an unforgettable night of high-octane action!"

The crowd roared and hollered, Ginny joining them and clapping her hands. She looked at Harry, searching for at least a glint of amusement, which he faked. He was down bad. He smiled at her, turning his attention to the racing track, from which he could now hear a set of cars revving their engines, though none were in sight.

The commentator introduced the first contestant, “And now, kicking off tonight’s lineup, we’ve got a fresh face on the circuit – give it up for Marcus ‘Maverick’ Harlow!” The crowd screamed again.

“Driving a 1998 Toyota Supra that’s impossible to miss, with those flame decals licking up the doors, he’s bringing a bit of old-school flair to the competition. It’s only his third race, so he’s still finding his groove out there, but this is a car with character, and Marcus is clearly hungry to make his mark. A classic ride and a rookie spirit… Let’s see what he can do tonight!”

A rather small, black car rolled to the start line. The flame decals on his doors gleamed under the floodlights, casting a flickering glow on the asphalt. He revved the engine hard, the Supra growling in response, a symphony of raw power that sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. Harry only rolled his eyes at the loud sound but Ginny was so excited she was practically shaking.

Another roar echoed, snapping everyone’s direction to the pink Miata Harry recognised immediately. He saw the girl stretch out her arm from her window, waving to her devoted fans. She popped the headlights again, a small smile crept its way to Harry’s chapped lips.

“And next up, folks, is the one and only Zara Johnson! You can hear the crowd roar for her – and with good reason. Behind the wheel of her baby pink 1996 Mazda Miata, Zara has earned her crown as the queen of the fans’ hearts. Known for her jaw-dropping drifting skills, she’s a master of style and control, but don’t be fooled. She’s just as fierce in a head-to-head race as she is in a slide.

“Her Miata is small but mighty, a lightweight beauty that dances through the corners, and she’s ready to prove once again why she’s a fan favourite.”

It was honestly crazy how much the girl influenced the spectators. The men went wild, but Harry could imagine the reason behind it. She was pretty, had a great body, and, to top it off, she was a beast on the track, apparently. He could easily understand why men who liked these things would be head over heels for her.

The third car rolled. It was the disgustingly offensive Honda Civic he had seen earlier. Yuck! As the Civic roared to life, the engine’s aggressive growl almost seemed to match the driver’s cocky grin. He was the kind of driver who didn’t mind showing off – and the Civic, with its loud red paint and an assortment of stickers that made a statement (whether you liked it or not), was the perfect match.

"We’ve got a car that’s definitely hard to miss – the bright red Honda Civic, covered in what can only be described as... bold stickers. It’s a look that’s as in-your-face as its driver, who happens to be one of the youngest – and perhaps most controversial – competitors here tonight.

“Meet Ryan, our prodigy, a freshly-turned 20-year-old with a pedigree that speaks for itself. His father, an iconic figure in the racing world, has set a legacy that Ryan is looking to build on – though he’s definitely making a name for himself, sometimes in ways that spark a little debate. But will his youthful arrogance and those, well... let’s call them ‘creative’ stickers be enough to make him a winner tonight?”

Funny, Harry cringed at Ryan’s whole existence. He just had to be a miracle child whose father is a well-known racer and had to be at least a bit decent at what he did for this many people to cheer for him. He had to be a cocky little bastard that didn’t take any authority seriously. It hit too close to home. Harry bet his trousers that Ryan was here with his ex-girlfriend, trying to get into her knickers.

"Next up, we’ve got a machine that’s built to dominate the corners – the 2003 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VIII, finished in matte black with cobalt blue accents. It’s sleek, it’s fast, and it’s as aggressive as its driver.

“Behind the wheel is 24-year-old Javier 'the Killer' Ramirez, a man who went from the streets of LA to racing on the biggest stages. Known for his calm, calculated style, Javier has earned his nickname for the way he slips through corners with surgical precision. Keep an eye on him, folks. Tonight, Javier is looking to kill."

The low hum of the Mitsubishi cut through the air as Javier made his way to the starting grid. The matte black finish of the car looked like it belonged to the night itself, with the cobalt blue accents almost glowing under the track lights. The Lancer’s engine growled with quiet menace, a sound that promised raw power just waiting to be unleashed.

Javier didn’t bother with theatrics. He wasn’t one for showy entrances – he was all business. As he drove into view, the crowd took notice, not because of flashy moves or bold gestures but because of the silent aura of intimidation he carried with him.

With a calm, measured hand on the wheel, Javier eased the Lancer into position. He didn’t even flinch when he manoeuvred the car into a tight spot on the grid, his eyes focused, lips set in a quiet, determined line.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Ginny looked at Harry, her cheeks glowing red and her left hand fanning her face. The right one reached out for the flask again, taking another swig. She started feeling the effect of alcohol, or at least Harry guessed since he’d never seen her look at anyone with that much hunger. “Merlin, such a charmer! So good at racing, too. Y’know, I met him a few times.”

“Did you,” he raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. He could only imagine what Ginny and Javier What’s-his-name would do, especially with her so smitten. He was sure she wouldn’t be satisfied with just talking. He scrunched his nose and stared at the track again, noticing there was one empty spot.

“And finally,” the commentator lowered his voice to make the crowd wheeze in anticipation. The brunette’s breath suddenly hitched, and for a second, he felt a wave of excitement wash over him. He wasn’t prepared for the next car, but when it came, he felt breathless. Maybe he might start enjoying this after all.

“Brace yourselves for a car and driver that need no introduction. The legend, the myth, the racing icon… Behind the wheel of a silver shimmering 2000 Dodge Viper ACR comes a figure whose name remains a mystery. But you don’t need to know his name to know who he is. They call him... The Serpent!” Harry heard the man behind the microphone bark out, and he hissed to imitate a snake. He had to laugh, though, since the commentator hissed an absolute nonsense of a sentence. Being a Parselmouth suddenly wasn’t a curse, and it was quite enjoyable.

“His true identity is a secret, but his reputation? Unmatched. The Serpent’s presence on the track is nothing short of electrifying. His driving style is a blend of raw power and calculated precision, with every turn and acceleration sharp enough to keep his rivals on edge.

“When this legend takes his place on the grid, it’s more than just a race – it’s an event. Hold onto your seats, folks. THE SERPENT IS IN THE BUILDING!”

The unmistakable roar of the Dodge Viper echoed through the paddock as The Serpent, whoever he was, rolled onto the track. The silver paint gleamed under the lights, almost liquid in its shimmer, a pair of green stripes seemed to glow with an intensity that made them stand out against the night. Harry couldn’t help but notice it was the exact shade of his eyes. What a nice coincidence! A neon underglow lit up the surrounding tarmac, casting an eerie green hue across the pit area as the car glided toward the starting line.

The crowd went silent as if holding its collective breath, and Harry found himself joining in. The car was truly beautiful, so elegant, but deadly. From behind the tinted windows, no one could see the driver’s face, only the slight silhouette of him in the seat.

“Merlin,” the man breathed out in awe, a hand raised to his mouth to cower his gaping expression.

Ginny, from beside him, arched an eyebrow, “Oh, you like The Serpent?”

“I-“ he didn’t know how to answer, really, but his intoxicated mind seemed to know exactly what to say. “I bet he’s hot as fuck.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure,” she said hesitantly and shook her head. “Wouldn’t focus on him much if I were you.”

“What? Why? Is he not a legend?” Harry asked with a cocked head, startled at Ginny’s sudden change of mood. Maybe she was hungry, she was always grumpy when she was hungry… “Do you know him as well?”

She shrugged, “Yes, not a pleasant bloke.”

The race had started with a wave of flag and a loud cheer that made Harry jump in his seat. The voice from the speaker introduced the rules of this race because apparently, ‘we can’t be bothered to wait that long for this showdown of the best of the best’, and the usual ten laps were cut down to only five. Whoever comes first wins, yadda yadda.

Harry’s green eyes followed the silver Viper at all times, or at least when it could be visible from where he was sitting. It zoomed through the track with little to no effort, and Harry quickly understood why it was a car of a legend. The Serpent was unmatched, way ahead of the other cars, as if they were having their own private competition, and he was, well, goofing around. It was evident the man was a master at what he did, the way he purposefully waited for the last moment to take a turn or the occasional teasing of slowing down, letting Maverick’s Supra overtake him, before stomping on the gas pedal and swooshing right past him.

The commentator spewed some information about the five vehicles, and even though Harry didn’t understand much, he figured out the Dodge Viper was way stronger than the other cars and wondered how they even let it compete. The pink Miata, for example, had no chance of ever beating it. But Zara was the Queen of Hearts, and when she realised there was no way she was going to beat The Serpent, she momentarily gave up on her speed and focused on getting a reaction out of the crowd, drifting into every single turn and doing a few doughnuts here and there. She was, however, ahead of Ryan, which was a pleasant surprise for Harry.

There was a moment near the end of the race when Ginny’s beloved Javier What-the-fuck accelerated so much that he was basically neck and neck with The Serpent. Harry could feel his heart hammer in his chest, a rush of adrenaline flowing through his bloodstream. He hadn’t even noticed how invested he was in the whole situation until something made his head spin in awe and desire. The Serpent must’ve had enough of Javier’s shenanigans. He hit the gas, straining his engine a bit but still overtaking his opponent. But the bastard wasn’t done, no. Harry saw the silver Viper spin around, suddenly reversing. A strong, firm hand poked out of the window and flipped Javier off, gear still in reverse as he reached the finish line, where he revved his engine and did, as Ginny explained, a burnout.

The wheels of his car started spinning so fast, though he remained in one place, unmoving. Harry smelled burnt rubber again, widening his eyes when he saw smoke coming from the jet-black tyres. It was thick and smelly and green. The crowd went feral. Absolutely animal-like, and if Harry had his eyes closed, he’d be convinced he was in the Monkey Valley in the London Zoo.

“Amazing!” he exclaimed, hands clasped together in front of his chest.

“Whatever,” the girl rolled her eyes, standing up. “Come on, let’s meet Javier before people steal him away from me.”

“We’re going down there?” he asked, voice high-pitched for some reason. He saw her nod twice and erupted into a wide grin. He was about to meet The Serpent. How mad was that?

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Harry was suddenly glad Ginny knew Javier Whatever. He didn’t have to push through masses of people and could actually step closer to the spectacular cars that now meant something to him. He heard a few people boo at him, probably because they all had to be gathered behind a thick barrier while he was out here, roaming freely around the vehicles. The security was surely heightened after the race, and not many people had the privilege to meet the racers face to face anymore. It was probably a good idea since Ryan, the poor dumb boy, got at least twenty death threats over the course of the last ten minutes.

“You fucker, I bet money on you!”

“You call yourself your father’s son? What a disgrace.”

“Got beaten by a girl like the tosser you are!”

Well, at least Harry never lost. He could imagine having a similar reaction as Ryan if he did, but he was the Chosen One. He was the Master of Death, the Saviour, the Boy Who Lived Twice. Thank Merlin, he and the young boy weren’t so similar after all.

 He saw Ginny skip over to Javier’s Lancer, embracing him not like a friend but like a lover. He smiled at her and squeezed her hard, and Harry would break down right then and there if it wasn’t for the familiar roar of a powerful engine. He turned around to find a single garage opened and dimly lit. It snapped him out of his gruesome thoughts, and without much thinking, he moved towards the source of the sound. He already knew he was going to see the beautiful silver Dodge Viper inside, he was fully prepared for that. What he wasn’t prepared for was that it would be fucking flying. Well, not literally. It was propped up on two weird-looking poles that seemed to be holding it in the air somehow, and a figure was sitting under it. Harry let out a shaky breath.

The Serpent was sitting on a leather jacket that spread on the floor, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. His back muscles were desperately trying to free themselves from under the tight fabric. His left one was heavily tattooed, though Harry couldn’t make out any clear pictures from this distance. He was still wearing his matte helmet. The Serpent’s hands were covered in a black, shiny liquid as he worked his wonders on the chassis of his magnificent car. He let his hand drop to his lap, sighed, and crawled from under the machine with his jacket in hand. He pulled at a lever on one of the weird-looking poles, and Harry watched the car lower down and go back to the ground. The legendary driver wiped his hands on his black baggy jeans and turned around.

The Serpent stood frozen in shock when his eyes landed on Harry, “What the actual fuck are you doing here?” His voice was muffled by the helmet, and Harry couldn’t make much of it other than the fact the man must’ve been startled by his sudden presence.

“Oh,” Harry scratched his nape in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry. I was looking around, and I heard your car.” The figure still watched him, his piercing silver eyes narrowing under the tinted face shield. They were so bright it made Harry nervous. “You’re something,” he spoke again, trying to make the whole situation less awkward. However, he may have made it even worse. But he was drunk, and his tongue was faster than his brain. “Amazing, really. The way you… I don’t even know what you did, but wow!”

“Potter,” The Serpent spoke, stopping Harry before he could blabber some more.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Get out of my garage.”

The words were enough to make Harry sober up for at least a few seconds. He blinked, confused.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, shifting around nervously as he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his oversized black hoodie. He heard the man who approached him (and was so fucking tall it made all the alcohol rush straight back into Harry’s brain) groan. The Serpent shook his head, hands reaching out to pull off his helmet.

With a simple swish, his face was suddenly visible, and Harry could feel his heart drop all the way down to his heels. He could distinguish that stupidly perfect, pointy, slim face anywhere. That shiny platinum hair that now must have reached his shoulders, tied in a loose ponytail, those silver eyes that, even after all these years, were as cold as ever. Those kissable lips that usually twisted in disgust. Those slender fingers. That ridiculous pureblood confidence.

The roles were suddenly switched, and Harry was the one frozen in surprise as Draco Malfoy walked towards him, seemingly furious. He opened his mouth to speak, scream, do something, but no words were coming out. He was sweaty and hot, and he could guarantee his cheeks were red.

“You just won a Muggle race,” Harry finally strained out, and for the thousandth time that evening, he cringed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sneered, “Duh. I never lose.”

“Never? How long have you…”

“Just get the fuck out and leave me alone,” the blonde snapped, crossing his arms at his chest.

“But you…” Harry stuttered. “You’re spectacular! It was like magic!” Upon hearing that word, Malfoy visibly flinched and squirmed, eyes shutting rapidly and chest heaving up and down. Harry looked at him with concern.

“Well, I can’t bloody do magic now, can I?” Malfoy’s words were filled with venom, piercing through Harry like a sharp blade. His silver eyes opened again, and when they did, Harry saw so much pain, resentment, and guilt that his heart swelled.

He tried to be careful when he spoke, but the curiosity was obvious to anyone with a working pair of ears.

“Why not?”

Malfoy shot him a death glare, baring his teeth and balling his fists, “Why not? You were there! You were there when they stripped me of my powers. Don’t even try to ‘Why not’ me.”

Harry felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. He staggered back a step, blinking rapidly as Malfoy’s words hit him. Stripped of his powers? Memories of the trials after the war flooded his mind – tense hearings, tearful pleas, and a vengeful wizarding world demanding justice. But he didn’t recall hearing about this.

“I…” Harry started, fumbling. “I didn’t know.”

“Bullshit, Potter!” Malfoy’s laugh was harsh, cutting through the tension in the garage. “It was your friend Kinglsey who banished me. He said you agreed with it. Don’t lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to something like that,” Harry insisted, a spark of desperation in his tone. “Stripping someone of their magic? That’s not justice – it’s cruel.”

“Cruel?” the taller echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t get to stand there and talk about cruelty. Not when you were the golden boy standing in the spotlight, nodding along to whatever your precious Ministry decided. You didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

Harry clenched his fists at his sides, his pulse racing. “I wasn’t nodding along to anything!” he snapped. “I showed up to those trials to make sure people got a fair chance. If I knew they were going to-” He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. “I didn’t know, Malfoy. I swear.”

“Whatever,” Malfoy scoffed and turned to his precious car. “This is all I have left now. Leave before you ruin it, too.” He took a damp cloth that was stuffed under the waistband of his trousers and rubbed it against the glimmering silver hood, cleaning off a few specks of dirt and some dead flies that he must’ve caught during the race.

Harry wouldn’t budge. He stood there, eyes scanning the garage, feeling so sorry but so amazed at the same time. There were tools and spare parts everywhere, huge chunks of metal he didn’t know the purpose of, and some chemicals that he assumed were for cleaning. On a nearby shelf, he saw a great collection of trophies and medals. He was sure it was the alcohol that made his legs move, taking him across the room, moving his hand to feel the coldness of the steel. He touched everything, traced every corner of every spare part, his green eyes soft and amused.

“I’m really sorry. I know that’s not going to cut it, but it’s the best I can do right now,” he whispered when he finally gained enough confidence to walk to the blonde, who was still scrubbing muck off his Viper. Harry’s damned legs carried him all the way to Malfoy, so close he could smell his cologne mixing with motor oil and a musky whiff of sweat. He watched the taller turn to him and look him up and down.

“Potter, are you drunk?” Malfoy sniffed and scrunched his nose, eyes narrow in suspicion. He must’ve noticed how miserable and sorry Harry was, quickly turning from a hateful git to someone decent enough. “Where is your girlfriend?”

“Probably shagging Javier Who’s-it,” he replied truthfully, ignoring the agony that spread through his body. With a sigh, he pulled out his flask and tipped it back once again. It wasn’t healthy at all for him to cope this way. But the emotions were too much to handle, and he wanted to drown them out as much as possible. He finally let himself cough at the strong taste of Firewhisky, figuring he wasn’t on Ginny’s mind anymore. Malfoy looked at him wide-eyed and disturbed, so he explained himself. “We broke up some time ago.”

“Oh,” the taller nodded slowly, letting the cloth fall to the ground as he circled around his car. He felt a tinge of pity for Potter. “Good. I imagine it must be hard to live with a Weasley.” He lifted himself up on his arms, sitting on the Viper’s trunk, legs under the huge spoiler. His elbows met the cold steel as he rested his head in his palm. He motioned Harry to come sit next to him. The shorter struggled a bit, but eventually, with the help of Malfoy’s strong arm, he was able to pull himself next to him.

“You’d be surprised how boring she was,” Harry nodded, being more honest with himself than he’d ever been. “It was all about Quidditch and Harpies and how sexy and attractive I was during the war.”

“Sounds like a pain,” Malfoy pressed his lips into a thin line and snatched the red flask out of Harry’s hand.

The wizard’s eyebrows rose under his fringe, “Aren’t you driving?”

“I think I’ve done plenty of that for today,” the blonde sipped the Firewhisky, closing his eyes in delight. “Heavens, I missed this. Muggle alcohol can never surpass this.”

Harry smirked, and then a question popped up in his mind, “How did you end up on the race track anyway?”

“Well,” the other started, taking another big gulp. His shoulders were slumped, a hand ruffling his hair. “I was allowed to withdraw a bit of money when they banished me. I used it to get my license and then a car.”

“This one?” Harry asked with a bit more interest than he’d like to admit.

“God, no, Potter. This car cost like seventy thousand,” the blonde shook his head, and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I bought an old Skoda. The cheapest one I could find.”

“How’d you get to the Viper, then?”

Malfoy didn’t hide a warm smile, “I figured out I liked cars and got a job as a vehicle technician in London. I fixed my car a bit and figured I might as well try racing.”

“So you won a fortune,” Harry stated more than asked, his green orbs staring at his former nemesis with heed. But the blonde shook his head.

“I was terrible. Took me quite some time to win my first race. Ever since then, it’s been easy, and I made it my official job,” he spoke softly and seemed to relax a little. His love for cars was obvious, his voice was warmer than ever. It was surreal to Harry; he’d never seen Malfoy so chill and laid-back, and he feared that if he changed the topic, they’d quickly go back to bickering back and forth. “The money keeps flowing in at this point.”

“Do you live around here?”

Malfoy shook his head slowly, “I live everywhere. And nowhere.” He took a swig, then looked Harry straight in his eyes. The action made him blush, and he didn’t expect the blonde to be interested in what he did, but to his astonishment, Malfoy nudged his arm, “What about you, Saviour? Still kissing up to the Ministry?”

“No, I, uhh,” how was he going to tell him he was a DADA professor? Malfoy hated Hogwarts. Every one of their peers did, at some point, especially after the war. It was a thorn in the side, a haunting memory that only brought nightmares and past trauma.

“So you’re no longer an Auror,” Malfoy nodded, understanding. A few strands of his platinum hair framed his now manly face, and he tucked them behind his ears to see Harry better. Why? He had no idea. “Figured… You must be exhausted from trying to save the world over and over again.”

The brunette blinked at him, lips apart. Finally, someone understood. The fact that it was Draco Malfoy, of all people, was alarming and would probably freak him out if he wasn’t so inebriated. But his eyes, the bright silver orbs underlined with sadness and curiosity, slowly turning forgiving, were enough for Harry to throw any negativity behind him and fully engage in a conversation about himself.

“I’m a professor,” he blurted out, expecting a reaction, but Malfoy only bobbed his head up and down. “You’re not surprised?”

“With the whole Dumbledore’s Army stunt?” he leered, “Not a single bit.”

“Oh.”

The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For once, it felt like they had found some common ground, like two people standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to jump or simply enjoy the view. Harry glanced at Malfoy, his pale profile illuminated by the dim light of the garage. The tension in his shoulders had eased, and for the first time in years, Harry felt like he was seeing the real Draco Malfoy, not the haughty Slytherin prince or the broken man in the courtroom, but someone entirely new.

“So, you’re just wandering Britain, racing cars and winning fortunes?” Harry asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

Malfoy let out a soft laugh, one that Harry couldn’t help but find pleasant. “Something like that. It’s freeing, in a way. No ties, no expectations. Just the track, the engine, and the finish line.”

“Well, you’re amazing at it,” the pair of green eyes sparkled.

“I didn’t know you were a fan,” the blonde spoke with a slight tease, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were so obsessed with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” Harry snickered and shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I didn’t find this,” he waved his hand around, “interesting until today. Ginny basically dragged me here.”

“And I’m guessing you only agreed to it because you wanted to hit,” Malfoy gave him a knowing look that could move mountains, so teasing but also so kind, not like anything he’d ever witnessed from the boy. Harry nodded, embarrassed. He, however, didn’t know if the feeling was caused by how desperate he was, or the mere fact it was Draco sodding Malfoy who saw right through him. He was even more observant than Hermione, which was strange and twisted, but somehow, it was also pleasant, and he finally felt seen. “You’re a mess, Potter.”

“Aren’t we all?” he shrugged, another sip of Firewhisky already burning in his throat. The world was already spinning, but Malfoy stayed still. He was a paradox in Harry’s mind, looking like an angel who came to take him to Heaven while also being the only thing that grounded him, at times luring him to Hell. He was something that made Harry want to stay forever, but if he were to leave, Malfoy would be the one packing his things into a bag. He was manly and strong now, not the pointy kid Harry once knew. Everything about him seemed bigger, and the air around him wasn’t charged with dangerous static that would zap you as soon as you stepped closer. Harry hated to admit it, but even though his banishment was probably the best thing to ever happen to the man. He was calm and collected and passionate and so fucking gorgeous with his hands stroking the spoiler of his lovely car.

Malfoy watched Harry closely, a sigh escaping his lips, “I’m sorry for the, er, outburst. I’m not usually like that anymore. You just…”

“Brought back memories?” Harry asked with a tilted head, watching the other nod, “Don’t worry about it. I can’t look at half of the Wizarding World without feeling shitty.”

“Yeah, well, they love you. They worship you,” Malfoy spoke in a soft voice, “You’re their hero. And I was the villain.”

“Oh, stop it,” Harry’s hand instinctively flew over to Draco’s thigh to provide him comfort, though it made the buff muscle twitch under the black fabric. Harry’s hand stayed, though. “I’m as much of a hero as anyone else. And screw what others think! You seem happy. People are crazy for you now. I think you look good here.”

Malfoy’s gaze flicked down to Harry’s hand on his thigh, lingering there for a moment before meeting his eyes again. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of amusement and something softer, something Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. Maybe it was the damn alcohol, or maybe his lack of general awareness, but the taller suddenly seemed so close. Too close. And also not close enough. Harry shifted a bit and discreetly let their thighs touch. Malfoy’s eyes scanned through the situation before lading on Harry’s face, sending him a warm and kind smile.

“And are you?” Malfoy broke the momentary silence, “Happy?”

Harry thought for a second. His hand traced his jawline and rubbed his rough skin, staring into nothing. Was he happy? He had a nice job in a place that gave him night terrors, teaching alongside his old professors, and God, it was so awkward. He had a fiancé who left him to pursue her career, who also took him to the middle of nowhere to watch some engines roar, then left him there to go snog some Javier Who-even-cares. He had his own place that served as a constant reminder he practically killed his own godfather.

He shook his head slowly and steadily, then a wave of warmth shot through his hand. Malfoy had his palm pressed into Harry’s hand, rubbing small circles across the coppery skin. He had really rough hands covered in callouses and many scars from burns. It reminded Harry of how his hands looked back when he enjoyed flying. He used to hold his broom so tight it often bruised. Now, his hands are nearly flawless, just like Malfoy had back then. The blonde wore a sad smile, eyes locked with Harry’s in an intense battle of emotions. Sadness, guilt, fear, adoration, understanding, want, loneliness. Honestly, how could one even feel so many emotions at once?

Harry decided he wanted to be bold (bloody Firewhisky!), so he inched closer and let his head fall onto Malfoy’s strong shoulder. He let out a shaky breath before feeling Malfoy press his own bony cheek into Harry’s hair. The blonde inhaled Harry’s blueberry shampoo and closed his eyes, his hand still on Harry’s.

“Pathetic,” he chuckled, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. “We must look like two veterans.”

Harry let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound muffled against Malfoy’s shoulder. “Yeah. Two washed-up has-beens, wallowing in our own messes.”

Malfoy’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, though his eyes stayed closed, “Speak for yourself, Potter. I’ve built an empire out of my mess.”

“As humble as ever, I see,” Harry’s smile could be audible in his voice. He turned his hand around so their palms were facing, and for whatever reason, he intertwined their fingers together. He bit his lips when everything around him spun once again. He no longer felt just drunk. He was about sure he was high on Malfoy’s touch.

The moment felt fragile, suspended in time. At least until the loud rev of an engine outside shattered the stillness.

“My man!” a booming voice called from the entrance to the garage.

Harry groaned as the connection broke, reluctantly pulling away from Malfoy to spin around to look at the intruders over the roof of the car. Striding into the garage, as obnoxiously as humanly possible, was Javier Whack-a-mole, with Ginny Weasley clutching his side like he was some kind of prize. Javier’s swagger was as grating as his too-white grin, and Harry felt a pang of something between bitterness and second-hand embarrassment.

Ginny was beaming next to him, mouth twisted in a wide grin, and she waved her delicate hand towards Harry when she noticed him. Her smile faltered, “So, you’ve met the Serpent.” She sighed and shook her head, ginger hair waving around. “The only thing I told you not to do.”

Malfoy’s ears pricked up as he pulled his long leg from under the big spoiler to rest against the metal of the trunk. He leaned against it with a blank face. “Funny,” he said, voice smooth as silk but laced with glass-like sharpness, “considering you brought Potter here and abandoned him. If you didn’t want him to meet me, maybe you shouldn’t have left him stranded.”

Ginny’s cheeks flushed, but before she could respond, Javier chimed in with a laugh.

“Good one. Now, Dee. Got a wrench or something I can borrow? My baby’s throwing a tantrum, and I need to calm her down.” He gestured vaguely toward his car parked outside, his free hand resting possessively on Ginny’s waist.

Malfoy’s hand stretched out to point at a table in the corner of the room. “At this point, I would’ve guessed you knew your way around my garage, Javi,” he smirked at his competitor-turned-friend. It was weird, really – they had flipped each other off on the track not two hours ago and now they were all ‘bro’ and ‘homie’. Maybe it was a similar dynamic to the one he shared with poor Cedric.

“What’s wrong with your car, anyway?” the blonde asked.

“She’s pulling too hard to the left,” Javier answered, searching through Malfoy’s tools with a groan.

“Change the tyres, then,” Malfoy suggested with an eye roll. “Thought it was an obvious solution.”

“I swapped ‘em out, and she’s still acting up. Might be the steering rack,” the American shrugged simply, then looked at Malfoy, who was still sitting with his knee up.

“I warned you about hitting those apexes too aggressively. You treat her like a battering ram instead of a precision instrument,” he snorted softly, shaking his head.

Javier grinned, unbothered. “Yeah, yeah, Serpent. You and your ‘precision’ lectures. Some of us have a bit more fun on the track.”

“You call understeer ‘fun’? Interesting definition.” Malfoy’s smirk deepened, but he pushed himself off the car and strode toward the tool table, pulling open a drawer. He rummaged through for a moment before tossing a spanner toward Javier, who caught it with one hand, flashing an exaggerated wink in response.

“Thanks, Dee. I owe you one. Again.” Javier saluted with the wrench, then turned to leave, but not before pausing to glance over his shoulder at Harry. “Some boy you got there. Must be special.”

The blonde froze, “Excuse me?”

Javier gave him a lazy grin, clearly enjoying the reaction. “I mean, you don’t let anyone even breathe near your car,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the Viper. “But here he is, sitting on it.”

“Bollocks, I let loads of people touch my car,” the blonde defended himself, trying to mask the slight rosy tint on his cheeks.

His opponent chuckled sinisterly, “Remember when you broke Mark’s hand in Edinburgh last year?”

“That was different,” Malfoy confidently stated, and Harry couldn’t help but shiver. “Now, take the Weaslette and screw off. We’re having a moment.”

Ginny’s groan echoed through the garage, loud and annoyed, making all three heads snap in her direction.

“One night, Harry,” she whined, “All I wanted was one night when you and I could have fun, and you just had to find trouble, didn’t you?” Her hands found their way to her hips as she stood in front of the Viper, still looking at Harry over its roof. He could tell she was furious, her eyes glancing between him and Malfoy.

He felt an unexpected anger waking up inside his body, and his nostrils flared. His tongue was pressed to the inside of his cheek as he took a deep breath in order to keep his calm. Who was she to tell him what he could and couldn’t do?

“Ginny, you can’t just-” Harry started, his voice sharper than he intended. He didn’t understand why she was making this all about her, why she felt entitled to dictate his choices like she owned him. Wasn’t this the same Ginny who had ditched him for her own plans only hours ago? “I’m not some bloody puppet, you know. I’m not just here to amuse you.”

“I see,” she sassed, “So you’d rather spend time with a Death Eater.” Her words felt like a poisonous gas, filling the air with something toxic and disgusting. Harry quickly turned to Malfoy, who had his eyes wide open and nails digging deep into his calloused palm. His chest rose slowly, and the playful grin he held on to vanished like it had never been there. Javier looked puzzled but amused. He didn’t know the meaning of the word his ‘girlfriend’ spit out, though Harry could imagine it sounded cool and edgy to a Muggle ear.

Harry slipped from under the silver spoiler, angry steps taking him straight to her. “Leave, Gin,” he commanded her, hoping she wouldn’t put up much of a fight as this situation was both embarrassing and completely rude. He was lucky enough to see her scoff at him and storm out of the garage angrily, Javier following in her trail and sending an apologetic look towards Malfoy. Once they were out of sight, Harry growled angrily and with a swift movement of his hand, he shot an angry spell at the garage door. It started closing painfully slowly, and once it did, a deafening thud filled Harry’s ears. He rubbed his face with his fingers before turning to Malfoy, who was eyeing his wand. It must’ve been the first contact he had with magic after his trial.

He was surprised to see Malfoy shrug and lean casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression turning calm and composed. His silver eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion, but his posture radiated a kind of smug ease.

“Well,” he drawled, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “That was... enlightening.”

Harry blinked, caught off guard by how unbothered he seemed. “You’re okay?” he asked, half-expecting some kind of outburst or discomfort after what had just transpired.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Malfoy replied smoothly, shrugging one shoulder. “She wanted to play dirty, and I’ve been dealing with worse since I could walk.”

“Want a drink?” it was the least Harry could offer. He stretched out his arm awkwardly.

Malfoy smirked and nodded, “Hell yeah.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

It must’ve been around two in the morning, but Harry couldn’t properly guess whether he was in Malfoy’s garage for five minutes or five hours. Still, people were up and celebrating the race. He could hear muffled music, which tuned from hip-hop to rock, thank God. Malfoy seemed to like that as well. Hary found out the blonde was very fond of rock, in fact, even going as far as saying it is the only good music genre. Harry tried to argue out of habit, but he couldn’t.

He could still hear Ginny’s laughter. It was loud and clear as if she purposefully stood at an angle that would make the beautiful sound travel straight into Harry’s ears. It was provoking him, and at times, he found himself blinking away some tears. With another giggle, he leaned back into the passenger seat of Malfoy’s Viper and sighed.

“… And this button- Potter, are you okay?” Malfoy questioned him with furrowed eyebrows, looking genuinely worried. The same Draco Malfoy that had always tried his best to make Harry feel like absolute crap, the same one that made fun of his dead parents, was now touching his knee to comfort him.

“I can hear her,” he said sadly and looked through the windshield.

Malfoy followed Harry’s gaze toward the open garage, the faint flicker of firelight from outside casting shadows against the walls. It’s been like this for a while now since the air between Harry and Malfoy grew so hot it left both of them sweaty for some reason. Ginny’s laughter echoed faintly over the hum of conversations and music, weaving its way into the moment like an unwelcome ghost.

“You mean Weasley?” Malfoy asked softly, his voice unusually gentle. His hand lingered on Harry’s knee, a solid and grounding presence amidst the swirl of emotions.

Harry nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah. It’s stupid, I know. I shouldn’t care.” He pressed his knuckles into his eyes, frustrated at himself. “I shouldn’t let it get to me.”

Malfoy shifted slightly in the driver’s seat, leaning closer but keeping a respectful distance, “It’s not stupid. You’ve known her for ages. These things don’t just… disappear because you want them to.”

Harry turned to look at him, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. “Why are you being so nice?” he blurted.

The blonde blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before a small, sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Because, believe it or not, Potter, I’m not a complete bastard anymore. And…” he gestured vaguely toward the car’s dashboard, “I’m trying to show you my bloody car, and I’d rather not do it with you sulking over there.”

“Alright, Malfoy. Show me what makes this fucking car even more special.” The shift in tone worked. Harry let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie that had become too warm for him.

Malfoy’s smirk widened, clearly satisfied. He tapped a button on the dashboard, and a quiet click echoed through the cabin as he detached the steering wheel and lifted it in his hands.

“The actual fuck?” Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Quick release. Makes it easier to get in and out of the car, especially when you’re strapped in for a race,” Malfoy chuckled, his icy eyes glinting with amusement. He held it up like a trophy

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me you just… pop it off? What happens if you lose it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Malfoy snapped the wheel back into place with practised ease, the mechanism locking with a satisfying click. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I beg to differ,” Harry muttered, though there was no venom in his tone. He glanced around the interior, noticing the stripped-down, utilitarian design. “So, what else does this thing do? Transform into a dragon or something?”

“Not quite,” Malfoy replied, leaning forward to tap on a set of switches above the gear stick. “But it does have a nitrous system. I don’t usually need it, but there have been some close calls. I’d show you, but I’m knackered.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re a legend and all that,” Harry rolled his incredible green eyes and smiled at the blonde. His hair was now down, looking soft and luxurious, luring Harry to touch it, brush it, pull on it, whatever. He almost forgot about Ginny. Almost. As always, she had to remind him of her existence.

“I fucking love this song!” she screamed from somewhere, seemingly happy. Harry’s heart skipped in an unpleasant way as an overwhelming feeling of jealousy hit him like a truck. He sucked in a breath and balled his fists.

“She hates Green Day. What is she playing at?” Harry growled, but the tension in his face disappeared after he felt Malfoy’s thumb rub circles on his knee. He still had his hand on the shorter’s knee. It felt warm and kind, and Harry stared at it for a second, wincing at the thoughts that replaced Ginny momentarily. But then again, he wished to be touched. It had been too bloody long, and he was sure Malfoy’s hand would feel heavenly on his inner thigh or squeezing his arsecheeks or…

“I like Green Day,” the blonde snapped his string of thoughts, “They’re releasing an album next month, did you know?”

“Did I know?” Harry cocked his head, a wide grin appearing in place of the previous pout. “Are you joking? Of course I know!” He sat up straighter, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “American Idiot! I’ve been counting down the days.”

Malfoy’s smirk widened at Harry’s sudden excitement, “Well, well, Potter. Didn’t expect you to be a fan.”

“Why not?” Harry shot back, a challenging gleam in his green eyes. “They’re brilliant. I’ve been obsessed with Dookie for years. And don’t even get me started on Warning. It’s like they just get better and better.”

“Calm down before you cream your crackers all over my dashboard,” Malfoy laughed loudly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He turned his body to face Harry, one elbow propped up against his weird detachable steering wheel. The sight was so hot Harry felt shivers all over his body.

“I bet you’d like that,” Harry said, leaning back into the seat with a grin.

“I bet I would, actually,” Malfoy replied, his tone dripping with a mix of mockery and something else – was it lust? Was this another joke? Surely it must’ve been, they had been goofing around all night. Their conversations barely scratched the edge of decency and everything they had said until now, they took with a laugh, giving little to no value to any words that fell out of their mouths. So, what was this weird shift of mood?

And then there was Ginny’s laugh again, so loud in Harry’s ears that it gave him a headache, so teasing and mocking. ‘You can’t have me,’ it would’ve said if it could talk. ‘You can’t and won’t ever have me back.’ He could imagine her dancing with her ginger hair all wild and free, her huge smile directed at someone who wasn’t him, hands all over Javier What’s-he-called. It made him sick to his stomach.

Beside him, Draco shifted slightly, his body leaning closer in a way that wasn’t accidental. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Malfoy had listened to him in a way no one else had. No judgments, no expectations, just… presence. He’d gotten drunk with him, shared secrets in the quiet of the night, and, most importantly, didn’t push Harry away. And now he was here, closer than ever, with his eyes reflecting something Harry didn’t fully understand but longed to.

“You need a distraction, Potter,” Draco said, his gaze never leaving the road ahead of them. “From the Weaslette.” His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking to himself, but Harry caught every word. “You’re so miserable it’s ruining my chakras.”

Harry blinked, unsure of where this was headed, “You think I’m miserable?”

“Is that a secret?” the taller raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “I know I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now. The Weaslette’s all over someone else, and you're stuck playing the part of the third wheel. It’s pathetic, Potter.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Harry muttered, his voice low, defensive. He didn’t have much to argue with since Malfoy was right. He was royally fucked.

The taller turned his head, finally meeting Harry’s gaze with a knowing look. “No? Then why are you so bent out of shape? You can deny it all you want, but you’re letting her get under your skin, and it’s obvious.”

“What are you getting at?” Harry asked, eyes glued to Malfoy’s. They were pulling him in and offering him something deep and personal. He could only describe them as beautiful. So full of light and energy, the complete opposite of what his eyes looked like back in Hogwarts. Silver, alive, hot, curious. They danced around Harry’s face, staring hungrily.

“I’m just saying,” Malfoy said quietly and moved his damn hand up to Harry’s thigh. Fucking finally! They felt even better than he’d imagined, full of spark and warmth, very rough but soft and caring. “You seem to have grown a lot. If I had a man like you by my side, I’d never even exist in anyone else’s presence.”

The words hit Harry like a jolt, and his heart raced. Malfoy’s hand on his thigh was a shock to the system, a sensation so intimate and unexpected that Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He blinked, trying to process what was happening, but his thoughts were muddled, tangled in the heat radiating from Malfoy’s hand. He shifted slightly, not sure if he was pulling away or leaning into it. His mind was a mess, spinning from the closeness, from the rawness of Malfoy’s words.

“What- What do you mean?” he stuttered, his eyes doe-like and innocent, even though he was far from that word at the moment.

Draco’s smirk deepened, his thumb tracing small circles on Harry’s thigh. His gaze didn’t falter, even as the silence stretched between them, thick and loaded. "I mean," Draco said slowly, voice quiet but full of intent, "I wouldn’t let someone like you slip through my fingers." He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against Harry’s ear. "You’ve got a lot more to offer than just some useless memories, Potter. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than you think."

Harry’s pulse quickened at the proximity, and the intensity of Draco’s words hit him harder than any race or confrontation ever had. His mouth went dry, his mind still spinning. Was he imagining this? Was Malfoy seriously saying what he thought he was saying? The words left Harry dizzy, and he stared at Draco for a long moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. There was no going back now. The air between them had changed, thick with a craving that was too real to ignore.

Maybe none of this would’ve happened if they weren’t so bloody drunk.

Or if Ginny just stayed with him for the night.

He heard her infuriating giggles again, along with her terrible singing voice. Fuck.

Harry ignored the soreness in his chest when he turned to Malfoy, who was still too close to him and grabbed him by the back of his neck. The pair of silver eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and Harry felt the faintest hitch in his breath under his fingers. But then, the blonde smirked, a cocky, knowing tilt to his lips that only spurred Harry on. If he was going to do this – if he was going to stop drowning in self-pity and move forward, consequences be damned – then he wasn’t about to hesitate.

Not anymore.

The distance between them disappeared in an instant as Harry pulled Draco closer, crashing their lips together in a kiss that was messy and desperate, a clash of heat and frustration. It wasn’t gentle or tender. It was raw and consuming, born from a night of too many emotions and too little restraint. He had never been kissed like this. Ginny was so fragile and soft, and he immediately found out he preferred it this way.

Malfoy responded just as fervently. His hands gripped Harry’s thigh hard, making the dark-haired wizard yelp. He tasted like Firewhiskey and something sweet Harry couldn’t place, and it was intoxicating. The world outside the Viper faded, Ginny’s laughter, the muffled music, all of it drowned out by the pounding of Harry’s heart and the soft, almost reverent sound Draco made against his lips.

When they finally broke apart, after what seemed like ages but also seconds, Harry realised his hand was still tangled in Draco’s hair, which was as soft as it looked. The blonde’s cheeks were flushed, his pupils blown wide as he looked at Harry with an expression somewhere between shock and smug satisfaction.

“Well,” Draco said, his voice a little rough but still carrying that infuriatingly smug tone, “That’s one way to get over her.”

“I’m not done yet,” Harry groaned and locked their already swollen lips together again. He bit and sucked, drowning in the way Malfoy responded to him with little whimpers. The blonde slid his wet tongue into Harry’s mouth, making his breath hitch and stomach knot up. His jeans were suddenly too tight for him.

He needed to be closer.

How the fuck does one get closer in a car?

Harry broke the kiss with a frustrated groan, his chest heaving. “This is impossible,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the blonde who was still gripping his thigh.

Malfoy let out a low, breathless chuckle, his lips red and glistening. “You’re the one who started this, Potter,” he teased, though his voice was husky and tinged with desire. “Figure it out.”

“Brilliant. The great Draco Malfoy has no ideas,” Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up despite the heat coursing through him.

“Don’t test me,” Malfoy shot back, his smirk returning as he shifted slightly in his seat. He tugged Harry closer, his hands sliding under Harry’s back, fingers digging into his side. “This car has seen plenty of action, Potter. Trust me, it’s doable.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his face a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “You’ve done this before? In here?”

“There’s another reason I have a quick release,” the blonde tilted his head, his smirk growing wider. With a simple click¸the steering wheel popped off again.

That was all the challenge Harry needed. He moved without thinking, trying not to impale himself on the gear stick to straddle Malfoy in the driver’s seat. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it would have to do for now. One of his knees was pressed up against the carbon fibre door, the other somehow resting on the leather seat, defying every law of physics.

Malfoy looked up at him, flushed and utterly wrecked. Amused, he quickly took hold of Harry’s thighs again, using them as an anchor while pressing their erections together. The kiss grew hungrier this time, all teeth and tongue as if it could somehow ground them in this surreal moment. Malfoy groaned into Harry’s mouth, his hands sliding up to grip his waist and pull him impossibly closer. His hands slid under Harry’s dark hoodie and his t-shirt.

“Off,” was all the blonde managed to say between the thirsting kisses. He pulled away for a second to help Harry out of the unnecessary clothing, throwing it to the unoccupied passenger seat.

He stared at the beautifully tan skin for a good moment. It was surely a sight, he had to admit. Harry was way more muscular than he expected. His hand instinctively moved to touch his strong chest, and he let it slide all the way down to his navel. He loved the way his white skin looked against Harry’s darker one. It was a beautiful contrast, a treasure he wished he had found sooner.

Harry’s stomach tightened under Malfoy’s pale, wandering hand. He shivered, though the car was warm, and the look in the damned silver eyes sent a wave of heat through his entire body.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement.

Malfoy’s lips curled, “You could say that.” His fingers splayed over Harry’s abs before slowly tracing the curve of his waist, which he dug his fingers into. He definitely left scratch marks, but he didn’t care. He needed Harry closer.

The shorter’s hands started unbuttoning Malfoy’s shirt painfully slowly, the action teasing and maddening. He was taking his sweet time with it, and Malfoy could swear that if Harry took any longer, he’d melt into a puddle of lust and shame. To his surprise, though, Harry seemed to have lost patience as well. He gripped the fabric with his strong hands, yanking it open. Some buttons thumped against the interior of Malfoy’s Viper, but fuck them. He’ll deal with that later.

The blonde pressed his hips into Harry’s once more, arching his back into the leather of his seat. It felt too good. He repeated his action, then again and again. The feeling of Harry’s bulge against his own was so overwhelming he was left shaking and panting, and when Harry shifted awkwardly, he was left cold and miserable.

The brunette wriggled awkwardly, trying to manoeuvre himself without falling face-first into Malfoy or smashing his head on the roof. “Bloody hell,” he cursed as he fumbled with the button and zipper of his incredibly tight jeans, but the confined space made it nearly impossible to slide the jeans off properly. “Screw it,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the door open and stepping out of the car. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

The cool night air hit him like a slap, but he ignored it, focusing on getting the damn jeans off. He shimmied out of the offending denim, tossing it onto the hood of the Viper with zero regard for the car’s pristine finish. Standing there in nothing but his stubborn determination, he could feel the heat of Malfoy’s gaze burning into him. He reached for the other’s black Wrangler’s as well, feeling him jerk his hips up, so he could slide the annoying, cockblocking, stupid, useless piece of fabric down to his ankles.

Harry climbed back into the car, his cheeks pink and his hair more tousled than usual from the struggle outside. His knees bumped the seat awkwardly, and his movements were anything but graceful as he settled back on top of Malfoy. He tried to focus on anything else, but when his eyes flicked down, he froze.

Draco was sprawled beneath him, his shirt hanging open, his pale chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily. And then there was… well.

“Oh my fucking God,” Harry blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but whatever it was, it didn’t compare to the reality of Draco Malfoy, completely bare, hard, and undeniably perfect. “How am I-“

“Too late to chicken out,” the blonde said eagerly, pulling Harry closer so their bare cocks could touch. He heard him cry out a little and grinned. To be honest, Harry was exceeding expectations as well. He was about half an inch shorter than Malfoy, but he made up for it in thickness.

Harry’s breath hitched as their lengths pressed together, the heat and friction making his toes curl. His hands instinctively gripped Malfoy’s shoulders for balance, his fingers digging into the pale skin.

“I wasn’t chickening out,” Harry shot back, though his voice was breathless and shaky. His cheeks were crimson, and his heart felt like it might explode in his chest.

“Good,” Malfoy purred, his hands sliding down Harry’s back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Because I don’t intend to stop now.” He cupped his perfectly round arse, giving it a light squeeze, earning a loud moan from the man leaning over him. He kissed his neck and reached to his left to grab something from the glove compartment.

Harry eyed the pink bottle of lube, “I thought you were joking about having sex in your car.”

“Please… I’m famous,” Malfoy replied sassily, “You think I’m not going to use that to my advantage?” Harry found this kind of confidence extremely sexual, and he felt his cock twitch. Malfoy must’ve noticed it since he smiled at him sinisterly. He flipped open the cap of the lube with a practised ease that made Harry’s stomach flip. “How about you, Saviour?” he asked, “You must be getting plenty of action.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed. He couldn’t believe how quickly this had escalated. “Well, I… I hooked up with Ginny a couple of times after we broke up,” he admitted.

Malfoy’s smirk faltered for a second before it deepened into something more dangerous, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He was either glad or surprised by the fact that Harry was rather inactive, though which of the two, Harry didn’t know. Maybe a mix of both. "Oh, I see," he whispered, dragging his fingers lightly down Harry’s side. "Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you’re only thinking of me by the time this night’s over. No more thoughts of her, no more of your pathetic ex. Just me.”

The blonde placed another kiss on Harry’s neck, squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. The fruity smell of it polluted the air around them, making Harry’s head spin. Their eyes locked, both molten with so much heat it was unhealthy at this point. Malfoy’s finger somehow found its way to Harry’s rim, teasing it slightly. It must’ve been bent at odd angles, though neither of them seemed to mind that much. The brunette squirmed and shut his eyes, the bits of pleasure making his shaft leak. He threw his head back and let out a lewd sound, which was, to Malfoy’s ears, simply beautiful.

Malfoy inserted one slender finger, and Harry could already see stars. He felt him thrust in and out slowly and then slide a second finger. It hurt like utter hell, but it was so addicting he needed much more than that. He sunk onto Malfoy’s fingers with a grunt, hearing the blonde chuckle evilly.

“Needy, aren’t we?” the blonde spoke in a hushed tone, his digits slipping out as if he wanted to punish Harry. He reached for the slimy liquid again and squeezed some onto his palm, rubbing it all over his length with long and slow strokes. Harry was hypnotised, his emerald eyes staring at the pleasing show that was happening right in front of him. God, he needed this so much.

The fact that Malfoy was practically lying when he drove was really helpful right now. He had his seat tilted back so much that Harry wondered how he managed to see through the steering wheel. At that moment, he couldn’t be happier about it. It made it so much easier to position himself above Malfoy’s prick, and when he gained the courage to sink, he almost screamed out in absolute pleasure. He felt so full and so good.

“You okay?” the blonde brushed Harry’s dark fringe out of his eyes, his own expression caring and almost loving. His fingers danced around Harry’s lower back in a comforting manner. The shorter nodded, unable to speak. He lifted himself up, though his legs were so overwhelmed he quickly gave up.

Malfoy didn’t mind taking the reins at all. He wasted no time in gripping Harry’s plump arse again. He lifted him up, then pushed him down forcefully, grunting in the process. His head pressed into the car seat, body shaking in pleasure, realising guiding Harry wasn’t enough for him anymore. He jerked his hips upwards, hitting Harry’s prostate.

“Fuck, Harry,” Malfoy moaned loudly, hands still clutching onto him as if he was about to disappear. The blonde was thrusting harder and faster with each second that passed, leaving both of them a loud mess. The sound of slapping skin echoed through the whole garage, mixed with Harry’s moans and cries music to Malfoy’s ears.

They were both high on how their sweaty bodies felt pressed together, the air between them so hot and charged it was almost suffocating. Malfoy felt his balls brush Harry’s crack repeatedly, and he swore it was the best feeling in the entire world.

Harry finally adjusted to the size and pushed himself up on Malfoy’s cock. It slipped out for a brief moment, but Harry had no trouble finding it again. The blonde cursed at the action and moved his hands from Harry’s arse to his back. With each time Harry rose and fell, Malfoy left deep scratches on his beautiful caramel skin.

Harry’s mouth found Malfoy’s neck, kissing it and nibbling at the paleness, watching it turn red. He sucked on his collarbone and licked his way up to Malfoy’s jawline, giving it a small peck.

“So good,” the brunette breathed into Malfoy’s ear and saw goosebumps form on his strong arms. He gripped the light-toned, broad chest to steady himself, still moving his arse up and down. His mind was hazy and vision blurry, but he could still see the blonde smiling with his eyes closed and head thrown back. The sight was so seductive, yet sweet, that it made his heart skip a couple of beats, and he felt heat rush to his cheeks. “Draco,” he moaned out, loving the taste of the name on his tongue.

“Did Girl Weasley ever make you feel like this?” Draco gritted through his teeth, hissing at the way Harry’s hole clenched around his length. The brunette shook his head, but that wasn’t a sufficient answer. “Words, darling,” he drawled, his tone laced with wicked insistence.

"N-no," Harry stammered, his voice breaking on the word. “She didn’t.”

"That’s what I thought," Draco murmured, his lips curving into a triumphant smirk. He leaned down, his breath hot against Harry’s ear as he whispered, "No one else will, either. You’re mine, Potter."

Harry shivered, his fingers digging into Draco’s skin, leaving marks he didn’t care to hold back. "Yours," he echoed, the word slipping past his lips like a prayer, a promise, a surrender all at once.

Draco ran his hand from Harry’s back to his chest, then the back of his neck as he pulled him into another sloppy kiss. A deep warmth unfurled in his stomach, spreading like liquid fire, the tension there twisting and tightening until it was almost unbearable, on the brink of release. Shit, he didn’t want the moment to end. Harry was so good and perfect.

To his surprise, Harry’s rhythm started getting a bit irregular. He was getting close as well. They mewled into each other’s mouths and pulled away, resting their foreheads together as they panted hard. Harry’s hot breath burned Draco’s skin, his nails still digging into Draco’s skin.

“So close,” the blonde managed to get out in between the sensual sounds of pure bliss, bucking his hips again to help Harry, seeing as his legs were shaky again. It was all too hot, too good to handle, and he was now dangerously nearing his orgasm.

Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, the string of tension between them snapping slowly. With the other’s name on his lips, he came all over Draco’s chest, shaking and squirming. The blonde took hold of his bony hips again and fucked him until he felt his own climax reach.

Harry’s green eyes were already filled with tears from overstimulation, throat dry from all the screaming and moaning he’d done. He had his mouth open, but no sound came out. He felt Draco’s warm spunk filling him, and he could finally relax, falling onto his stained chest and breathing heavily.

It was way quicker than either of them expected, but Harry blamed it on the fact he hadn’t had any sexual experience in what felt like a decade, while Draco blamed it on how tight and good Harry’s arse was.

“Holy shit,” the blonde exhaled and smiled, holding Harry tightly in his arms, “That was…”

“Yeah,” Harry somehow managed to reply, head buried in the crook of Draco’s neck. “It was.”

The pair of silver eyes finally regained some vision after seeing only stars for a good moment, scanning their surroundings. He smirked, “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“The garage door was open the whole time.”

Harry froze, his entire body stiffening against Draco's. Slowly, he turned his head, his face already flushed but now burning crimson for a completely different reason. It felt like his body was hit with a blast of sound as all the noise from outside, which he managed to tune out somehow, suddenly slapped him across the face.

"You’re joking," he whispered, his green eyes wide with horror. There was the music and Ginny’s laugh again, though this time, it didn’t sting as much as before. She probably heard him getting fucked into oblivion.

Draco’s smirk widened, that infuriating, signature Malfoy smugness returning full force. "Wish I were, darling."

Harry groaned, dropping his head back onto Draco’s chest, "Merlin, kill me now."

The blonde chuckled and stroked Harry’s back, head resting against the dark nest of a hair. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Somehow, a sexy muscle car and an even sexier muscular man were all he needed to feel so happy he was sure he was floating. He heard Harry whisper a cleaning charm, feeling the strange tingle of magic that was once so familiar to him, but now it felt strange and alien.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered when he felt Draco’s body shiver, “Next time, I’ll make sure we’re somewhere with a shower nearby.”

“So there will be a next time?” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, watching Harry pull away from his neck and stare into his soul. Those green eyes would be enough to make him hard again if he hadn’t just had a raging orgasm. Harry nodded with a shy smile and carefully got off Draco’s lap to collect all of his scattered clothes.

He couldn’t help but smirk as Harry carefully gathered his clothes, his legs unsteady like a newborn fawn. The sight was too endearing, and the blonde couldn't resist the low chuckle that escaped him. "Careful there, love," he teased, watching Harry trip over his own feet before catching himself on the edge of the car.

The brunette shot him a playful glare, but it was clear he was still a little dazed, the remnants of their night lingering in his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. "I’m fine," Harry muttered, but the wobble in his voice betrayed him.

Draco stood up, his movement fluid and sure as he reached for Harry, gently cupping his chin and tilting his face toward him. His lips brushed against Harry’s cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you sometime,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

Harry smiled, a genuine, warm curve of his lips before his gaze softened. “Yeah… you will.”

They lingered for a moment. Draco cursed the universe under his breath – how could something this perfect have to end so soon?

Finally, Harry stepped back, his shoulders square as he adjusted his clothes, eyes darting around nervously as if afraid someone might see them. With a quick glance back at Draco, he smiled one last time, then Disapparated with a soft crack, leaving only the faintest trace of warmth in the air.

The blonde stood there for a long moment, the quiet of the night settling in around him. His fingers gently traced all the spots where Harry’s lips had kissed him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

The only proof of what they had shared were the faint love bites on his neck and the fogged-up window of the victorious silver Dodge Viper.

But that, he thought with a satisfied smirk, was enough for now.

Chapter Text

Harry’s body was twitching with excitement as he packed his bags for a well-deserved week off. He spent the past month begging Neville to cover his classes for a while since he was both exhausted and furious. He didn’t know what it was with these damn kids that made them so... unbearable. They were rude, lazy and super fucking disrespectful, and he was tired of them always forgetting to do their assignments. He would never be caught being rude towards a professor at their age! Although... nevermind, he was just the same back then. Regardless, he suddenly understood why Snape was always so tense and angry.

On top of that, Holyhead Harpies were playing against Caerphilly Catapults, and by logic, Caerphilly wasn’t far from Aberdare, where a famous racing track was located... And a certain blonde about to win a race.

“No,“ Ginny protested, leaning against the doorframe of Harry’s office. She was a bit cross with him after the fiasco he pulled back in Dundrod. To be fair, she was so angry she stopped talking to him for three months, and every time he tried approaching her at the Burrow, she shrugged him off with some childish insult such as ‘Go get fucked by your precious Death Eater.‘ It was only thanks to Ron the two of them decided to make up.

No, his best friend didn’t know about Draco, and Harry for sure wasn’t planning on telling him, but he was right. The ex-couple was starting to get ridiculous, and the family Sundays were getting unpleasant. Molly and Arthur were left in the dark, confused and hurt by their daughter fighting with the boy they loved and raised. Hence, Harry decided to be the bigger person and talked to Ginny, if only for the sake of her family.

“Please, Gin,“ Harry begged, “I won’t get in your way, I promise. You can be with your teammates and I’ll be... You know.“

“No,“ she repeated, „No way.“

“Come on! It’s been months!“ he pressed, running a hand through his curls.

Ginny crossed her arms, her fiery hair catching the light streaming into Harry’s office. She gave him the kind of glare that could send seasoned Chasers running.

“Go with Ron and Hermione,” she shook her head. “I don’t want to hear you moan and scream again.”

The brunette smirked, leaning back in his chair, “Funny. I thought you loved it when I’m vocal.”

“Fuck you!” she interjected sharply, her expression darkening, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushing a deep crimson. She turned away as though trying to compose herself, but Harry could tell he’d gotten under her skin. “You were never that loud with me, Harry.“

“So you’re jealous?“ he asked, his smirk widening. His eyes narrowed, sinister and smug. Just a year ago, he’d taken this opportunity, showered her with kisses and explored her body all over again, even though he was already familiar with every inch of her being. Just a year ago, he’d drop everything and slam her against the wall to kiss her and hold her and do so many bad things to her, but it wasn’t as appealing anymore. She was his past, not his present.

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression stone-cold. Harry was sure she’d have no problem with cursing him on the spot if they weren’t in Hogwarts (thank God for that). Then, with a sharp exhale, she stepped back. “Fine,” she said, her voice icy. “Go. Run off to your lovely Serpent. But I’m sending Ron to babysit you, and don’t you dare come crying to me when he stomps all over you.”

And like that, Harry found himself with Ron and Hermione by each side, dragging them all the way to Wales without a single word about his plans after Ginny’s game. The poor couple obliged without a single complaint – they loved watching Ginny play as much as Harry did and were happy to show her every bit of their support.

They arrived the night before the game, immediately hitting the hotel bar and chatting away into the late hours of the night. It was fun, really. After having a kid, the two of his friends rarely found some alone time to enjoy themselves, and even though Harry visited every Wednesday, it wasn’t the same. Their lovely house was often filled with whines and endless crying. Rose was a lovely child. Harry adored her very much for the bigger part, but he had to admit, seeing her with her eyes all teary at midnight, clutching her teddy bear and stealing his best friends wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his time. He couldn’t blame her, though; she was merely two years old, and he’d be mad for being angry at a child as young as she was, but still… They were all just kid themselves, and they deserved to have at least one night of the week for themselves.

Now, with Rose at the Burrow, in the care of her grandparents, there was nothing holding them back. They laughed and danced and even cried for a bit, almost like they did when they were teenagers. And Harry missed that.

It seemed like everyone had moved on but him. Ron being the Head Auror, Hermione being an Unspeakable, and even Ginny had found her life purpose. Neville was always set on being a Herbology teacher, and after getting married to Hannah, he, too, found his own little paradise. The world moved, but Harry stayed still.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The game was a total disaster. The Catapults completely mopped the floor with Ginny’s team. It lasted too long to be enjoyable, and the May heat was not making it much better. Everyone was sweaty and smelly, the air was hard to breathe. He was relieved when it ended so the three of them could Apparate straight back into his room, loud groans on their lips.

“I can’t believe they lost,“ whined Ron, shaking his head in disappointment. He wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of the bright green shirt he wore and sighed. “Ginny was completely out of it!“

“I know! Is she okay?“ Hermione’s worried voice filled Harry’s hotel room, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

He scoffed, “Don’t look at me, I don’t know.“ He stretched his back, which hurt from standing so long, and gave her a look. “We’re not that close anymore, remember?“

“Right,“ she nodded and pulled her crazy hair into a ponytail, fanning her damp neck with a hotel brochure. “It’s still weird. You two were inseparable, even after your breakup.“

“Yeah, what happened, anyway?“ the ginger chimed in. His freckled face was flushed, either from the heat or frustration over the match – or both.

Harry tensed for a moment, his hands pausing as he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a fresh set of clothes – a dark grey AC/DC shirt and a pair of blue ripped jeans – and headed straight to the bathroom. He left the door wide open so he could still talk to his mates while taking a shower, which wasn’t all that weird after everything they’d been through. It was quite common, actually. Ron loved taking a shit when Harry showered for some reason. Maybe it made his time pass by much faster.

“Merlin,” Harry sighed, taking his sweaty clothes off, “Well, I got angry at her, so I shagged someone she doesn’t like. Happy?”

Hermione gasped audibly, her eyes wide with shock as she looked towards the bathroom door. “What? You… What?”

“Yeah,” the brunette turned on the shower, letting the water cascade over his shoulders as he scrubbed his face. “It was great, though. And she deserved it.”

“That’s my bloody sister, you git!” Ron screamed, and Harry could hear angry footsteps heading his way. Maybe saying that in front of her brother wasn’t the best idea, but you know, he was honest. Still, Ron yanked the shower curtain open, staring at Harry with so much hate and resentment his face got all red and patchy.

“Okay, so? She took me out, flirted with me the whole night and left me for some other guy,” he confessed and sprayed a bit of water at the irritated ginger, making him squeal like a little girl. He squeezed a bit too much soap on his hand, feeling stinky and disgusting and wanting to get rid of the sticky layer covering his skin. “I think you’d be mad, too, if someone did that to you.”

Hermione was on her feet instantly, pulling Ron back before he could throttle him, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Calm down, Ronald. And you, what the hell is wrong with you?”

After thoroughly washing up, Harry turned the shower off, running a hand through his dripping wet hair as he grabbed a towel. “I don’t know, Hermione,” he said sarcastically, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. “Maybe I’m human. Maybe I get hurt, too. Maybe I don’t like being treated like I’m disposable.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to fuck someone just to hurt her back!” Ron’s face was still red, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“Oh, believe me, she wasn’t hurt,” Harry laughed dryly, “I’m sure she had a great time with Javier Thingy-McThingface. And I did it for myself, thank you very much.”

The tension in the room grew thick as Ron's eyes narrowed in anger, but Hermione cut in before the argument could escalate any further. She was used to being a mediator, and she didn’t really mind. As long as it kept the world at peace…

“Who was it, then?” she asked, her voice slowly turning from angry to somehow kind and curious.

Harry blinked at her before a self-satisfied smirk found its way to his lips, “You’ll see, don’t worry.”

Ron let out a loud grumble, but his wife stayed silent, her curiosity piquing despite the tension. Harry, now drying his hair with a towel, made no effort to offer more information. The smirk on his face grew wider, a silent challenge hanging in the air. She cocked her head and tapped a finger to her chin, thinking hard, but no one came to mind other than some random person he had to meet in Belfast.

But who did Ginny even know in Belfast?

The whole thing became even more confusing when Harry insisted on taking them out, three tickets in his hand. He even put on his more expensive cologne and tried styling his hair, which he never did unless going on a date. He practically dragged them out of the hotel, being way too eager for Ron’s liking.

The next weird thing was meeting the Harpies on a bus stop, the seven of them all happy like they didn’t get totally humiliated just a few hours ago. They were giggling and swaying side to side, clearly drunk but beaming.

“I would never imagine Ginny taking a bus,” Hermione chuckled softly and looked at the group of girls, finding it strange how well they could blend in with the Muggles. It was as if they were experienced in going out in jeans and casual shirts, mini skirts and flowery sandals. They were taking swigs of a mostly empty bottle of vodka, chasing it with a box of orange juice, the same brand her mother used to buy when she was a little kid.

“This is dodgy, I tell you,” Ron whispered to her, keeping a protective hand around her waist and pulling her closer as if they were about to enter the bus of death, which, in his mind, wasn’t far from impossible. He waved at his sister, watched her grin and skip her way over to them.

“Hey, there you are!” Ginny greeted with her usual warmth, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the excitement of the night. She leaned in to give Harry a brief, friendly hug. He stroked her back lightly and smiled at her, the previously discussed conflict between them seemingly disappearing. But then again, Ron and Hermione only learned about it thirty minutes ago. Harry and Ginny had a bit more time to process.

"Haven't seen you in that kind of state before," Ron muttered, his voice thick with mild disapproval. He didn’t even try to hide the hint of judgment in his tone, even though he should’ve expected this. Ginny was a proud Gryffindor and Fred and George’s little sister – they trained her well.

She merely smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously in the sunset, "What can I say? We were all trying to drown our sorrows after that disastrous match." Her voice was laced with irony, but the carefree air around her suggested she wasn’t dwelling on it.

Harry felt a small twinge of guilt as Ginny's gaze lingered on him. "Looking all spruced up," she noted, grinning. Her hand moved up to mess his hair up slightly, and he cussed her out loudly with a laugh. “You’re trying so hard it’s almost cute.”

“Thanks, Gin,” he smiled as he eyed her up and down, noticing how bare her legs were, “You clean up pretty well yourself. Trying to impress Javi, aren’t we?” His eyes wandered over her outfit – the way her tiny denim shorts hugged her sides was scandalous, and her tank top left very little to the imagination. She still looked heavenly, her satin skin peeking out from below her clothes in a torturous manner.

The bus finally pulled up, saving Harry from a conversation that was sure to lead to a horrible catastrophe. Ginny jumped with excitement and motioned for them to follow onto the vehicle, ignoring Ron’s protests and many, many stupid questions. She offered him a drink one of her teammates hid from the bus driver, the old bastard. Then, the bottle travelled to Hermione.

Harry had to admit he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the nerdy goody-two-shoes drinking it the way she did, gripping the bottle tightly and taking a large gulp, but maybe it was only the fact that he was used to seeing her drink Firewhiskey on rocks in the comfort of her sitting room. Even though she was Muggle-born, she was more of a wizard than him, and she didn’t look right sitting in a dirty bus seat, drinking the worst spirit known to mankind without having to drown herself in juice afterwards.

As the bus rumbled through the streets, the dense cityscape gave way to the darkened expanse of open roads. The hum of the engine seemed to grow louder, almost pulsating in sync with Harry’s heartbeat. The row after row of Muggle shops, the chaotic rush of people vanished behind them, replaced by the steady stretch of empty highways and overgrown fields. Harry’s focus shifted from the muffled chatter to the road ahead.

He thought about this moment for months, but now that he was living it, it felt surreal, and he felt almost blameworthy for being this happy.

After a few minutes of spacing out, the landscape began to shift. The hum of the bus grew sharper in Harry’s ears, and his gaze snapped to the front of the vehicle. In the distance, through the darkness, he could make out the distinct outline of something unmistakable: the high fences, the bright floodlights, and the gleaming metal of pimped-up cars lined up, barely visible from behind the groups of people admiring them.

The Aberdare racetrack, just beyond the last stretch of road, gleamed like a hidden treasure waiting to be unearthed.

The bus seemed to speed up, the pace quickening as they neared the track, and Harry’s heart rate followed suit, anticipation mounting with every passing second. The familiar thrum of the engines, the redolent with smell of rubber and petrol – it was the sound and scent of adrenaline, the moment when everything that had been building to this point would finally explode.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

“Well, I’ll be damned,” a familiar velvety voice echoed through a garage Harry was standing in, a big smile plastered on his face as he looked at the clump of blonde hair that emerged from under the silver Dodge Viper he’d grown to love.

Finding him was easy – he was yet again the only one who wasn’t interested in displaying his flashy car in front of the hundreds of gaping people, finding comfort in his own safe space. The other drivers were already surrounded by people judging or admiring their cars with popped hoods, probably leaving greasy handprints on the polished metals. Not Draco. He wouldn’t survive a stranger touching the beautiful silver bullet.

Harry watched Draco with adoration as he pulled himself to his feet and lunged straight at him, swinging his arms around the shorter’s waist and lifting him up excitedly. He spun Harry around and placed a kiss on his lips, almost too loving, but Harry didn’t mind one bit. He felt the same way, heart hammering in his chest loudly. His lips moved along Draco’s, his hand already tangled in the soft hair. He missed the soft, pink lips and the hot breath on his cheek.

Draco Malfoy looked so simple, yet so bloody good. Harry was already feeling the rush of arousal flowing through his veins. He didn’t know why a dirty, fitted, white tee was such a big turn-on, nor why the dark-wash jeans with a few distressed patches around the thighs made him want to crawl out of his skin, but holy fucking hell. A stained cloth was hanging from his waistband, a shiny wrench emerging from his front pocket.

“Took you only like… nine months, Potter,” the blonde teased, refusing to let Harry go.

“I wanted to see you before the race. To wish you luck and stuff,” he smiled up at him and buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, which he pecked softly. He left his two best friends with the Harpies, much to Ginny’s disapproval, which didn’t matter to him at all. The world outside the garage wasn’t much of a concern; the only important thing was standing right in front of him.

Draco chuckled lowly, “I don’t need luck, Harry; this is only a formality.”

Harry grinned, feeling that familiar rush of excitement he last did back in Dundrod. His arms tightened around Draco, savouring the warmth of his embrace, the smell of engine oil and leather that lingered on his skin.

“Sure, formality,” Harry teased back, his fingers lightly brushing through Draco’s long hair, memorising every strand like it was the first time. “But I suppose you could use a little more motivation.”

Draco pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing playfully as he looked at Harry. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in that signature smirk Harry liked so much.

“Motivation, huh?” Draco raised an eyebrow, voice thick with intrigue. “What kind of motivation are we talking about?”

“You know, a little bit of extra fire in your blood,” Harry’s grin widened, feeling his heart race as he reached up to gently brush his thumb across Draco’s jawline

The pair of silver eyes flickered with a brief moment of surprise before the smirk returned in full force. “Is that so, Potter?” he murmured, his breath warm against Harry’s skin. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Without wasting another second, Harry flicked his wand to close the large garage door, pulling Draco towards the corner of the room, sitting him down on an old chair before straddling him and attacking his mouth again. He kissed him roughly, hands roaming around the broad chest and yanking at the oil-stained fabric.

Draco groaned into Harry’s mouth, gripping his waist to pull him closer. He felt his stomach tighten and his heart race, gloating over the feeling of the brunette’s lips on his own, frowning when he felt him pull away. He let out a surprised yelp when Harry moved straight to his neck, sucking at the delicate skin, nibbling and licking at his collarbones.

The air then shifted, electric and full of desire, as Harry's hands continued to roam over Draco's body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Draco's breath hitched as Harry’s lips travelled lower, his heart pounding faster with every kiss, every touch. The garage, normally a place filled with the scent of oil and engine parts, now felt charged with something far more intoxicating.

It was all too fast-paced, but the greed the two of them felt was way stronger than whatever romantic vision of a reunion either of them had in mind.

Harry felt Draco growing hard under him, grinding his hips into the other’s erection. He moaned, the sound vibrating against the pale skin, lingering there even after his lips abandoned the now purple patch of skin. He climbed off Draco’s lap and quickly got on his knees, his shaky hands trying too hard to unbuckle the blonde’s belt, but unsuccessfully.

Draco giggled and ruffled Harry’s hair, their eyes locked in intense eye contact as he undid his belt himself. Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth, staring at Draco hungrily, instinctively moving his hand to the hem of Draco’s trousers, feeling him buck his hips to help him get the unnecessary fabric off. He pulled his jeans off alongside his briefs, letting them fall to the ground as he admired Draco’s fully hard cock, hypnotising him the same way it did months ago.

He could feel Draco growing more impatient by the second, so he wrapped his hand around the shaft, giving him a couple of quick strokes, his lips kissing the head softly.

He felt a gentle tug on his hair, followed by a soft whisper, the word sounding like an encouragement, a plea for more. Harry smiled and licked the underside of his shaft, feeling him shudder under his touch. He ran his lips along the whole length, looking up at Draco, who stared at him with half-lidded eyes full of lust, lips wet and parted.

Harry gave him a mischievous smile before wrapping his lips around the head of Draco's cock, swirling his tongue slowly, tasting the precum. Draco gasped, his grip on Harry's hair tightening.

"Fuck, Harry," he moaned as Harry began to move his head, taking more of him in his mouth.

The way Draco moaned his name had him growing harder in his pants, his own dick throbbing with desire. He bobbed his head and closed his eyes, refusing to take the whole length in his mouth to tease Draco. The blonde arched his back with a loud grunt, moving his hips, begging for more.

Harry finally obliged, relaxing his jaw and sucking on Draco’s hard prick like his life depended on it. The garage filled with obscene sounds as Draco continued to moan, thrusting his hips slowly. He watched the sight of Harry taking his cock, seeing his lips wrap around him tightly. The view was mesmerising.

The brunette choked a bit, feeling Draco hit the back of his throat repeatedly, but damn, he was so addicted to the feeling he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Draco threw his head back, the sensation overwhelming him. Harry moaned around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He thrust his hips upwards, fucking Harry's mouth, hands pulling at his hair, the heat enveloping him.

Harry’s lips left Draco’s cock with a faint pop before taking him in his mouth again. Draco’s legs shook, and he let out a loud whimper, Harry’s name rolling off his tongue.

"Don't stop, please, fuck!"

Draco was close, and Harry knew it. He could feel the way the blonde tensed, his muscles twitching. He sucked harder, his hand fondling the heavy balls, rolling them between his fingers. The feeling of Harry’s tongue gliding on the blonde’s length and his wet mouth was too much for Draco’s foggy mind. He was slowly losing sight, his brain cloudy and his lips trembling. He pushed Harry’s head down even more and rocked his hips faster, feeling his orgasm build rapidly inside of him.

But Harry had other plans. Just as Draco was about to cum, he pulled away and gave the blonde an evil smile.

"What- why?" Draco cried, his body shaking, his cock twitching, missing the contact of Harry's mouth.

"This is your motivation, Malfoy. Now, you better win," the wizard said in a low voice, standing up and pressing a kiss to Draco's lips, then quickly turning away. "Oh, and good luck."

Before the blonde could get a word in, Harry disappeared out of the garage, leaving Draco hot and bothered.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Harry returned to his friends, all giddy and blushing. Ginny quickly noticed his cheerful behaviour and purposefully moved to sit next to him on the grandstand (which Ron complained about, feeling embarrassed about sitting next to one of the Harpies), eyes narrow and suspicious.

“Had a good fuck?” she hissed, but he wouldn’t let her sass ruin his high.

“You could say that,” he nodded with a small smile, sipping on the strawberry mojito he had picked on his way to meet them. The tangy sweetness barely registered against the buzz of excitement still coursing through him.

“You’re lucky we’re in public, otherwise, I’d strangle you,” she threatened, but as the commentator’s voice blasted through the speaker, she quickly turned her attention to the track.

It was the same shit all over again, Maverick’s Supra still looking as captivating as the last time he’d seen it, Ryan still being the disrespectful prick, Javier Dude-Whatever being way too nonchalant to seem natural. He was a bit sad when he noticed Zara wasn’t racing today, already missing her cutesy pink Miata, which made the whole competition a bit brighter.

There was one contestant he didn’t recognise, some guy named Finn ‘Ghost’ Donovan, driving a black Subaru Impreza with deep red accents. The car was heavily modified, with a low rumble that announced its presence even from a distance. The other new face was Mark Callahan in his vibrant, yellow Mustang. Harry learned this was his first racing season after taking some time off due to an arm injury he suffered, and he smirked to himself. This must’ve been the same Mark that made the mistake of existing near Draco’s Viper.

As the commentary buzzed around the track, Harry’s gaze moved back to the familiar silver gleam of Draco’s Dodge Viper, which appeared to have just rolled out of a showroom despite the miles it had already put on. The crowd seemed to react to it almost before they noticed Draco’s entrance. Harry could see his posture, the confident stride he always carried even in the chaos of race days. The Viper shone under the lights, its signature green stripes cutting through the shadows.

Then, the crowd roared as Draco – The Serpent – stepped out of his glorious car, a matte black helmet on his head, though the silver eyes still visible from beneath it. He found Harry in the crowd instantly, tilted his head and shot him a look of pure desperation and need, making his breath hitch. Harry hid a small smile and waved his hand like an idiot, letting Ginny’s frown and scoffs glide through the air like they were the most insignificant thing ever.

Draco shook his head and smiled back with his eyes before moving to Mark. He patted him on the back firmly, giving him a bear hug. They were all friends, after all, despite all the competition.

Ron’s face drifted from The Serpent to Harry, then back to The Serpent, and back to Harry. “You’re joking,” his voice fought the cheers of the crazy fans, barely reaching Harry’s ears, “No way you fucked that guy.”

Harry, still grinning at the exchange between Draco and Mark, raised an eyebrow, his smile never leaving his features. “Yeah, that’s him.”

The ginger just stared, mouth agape, as his mind tried to process the bombshell Harry had just dropped. “You –  you – with him?” he finally stammered, gesturing wildly at The Serpent, who was now casually leaning against the fence, talking to Mark with an air of ease that only added to his allure. “Mate, I love you, but from what I’ve heard, that bloke’s way too cool for you.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head in amusement at Ron’s disbelief. "You're not wrong, I guess I’m just lucky," he replied with a shrug, trying to downplay the whole situation, though the grin on his face betrayed his cool facade.

Ron blinked several times as if trying to process the mental image of Harry and The Serpent together, but it just wasn't quite computing. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's fit and all, but..." Ron trailed off, still looking back and forth between Harry and Draco, who was now laughing at something Mark had said, or at least Harry guessed. It was really hard to depict without seeing his face. "You know what he does, right? That guy’s a bloody legend! And you’re... Well, you’re cool, but only in the Wizarding World." Ron looked like he wanted to say more, but it was clear the words weren’t coming.

“Merlin, Ronald. Give it a rest. You’ve known about that guy for an hour! It’s like the whole Viktor Krum situation all over again,” Hermione groaned and nudged her husband’s side, laughing as he winced.

Before Harry could thank her, a loud cheer from the crowd interrupted the moment. The race was about to start. Ron immediately perked up, his attention snapping to the track, but his eyes kept darting back to Harry, trying to reconcile what he’d just learned. He didn’t seem so angry at him for ‘cheating’ on his ex-girlfriend anymore, which was a good thing.

This was definitely the Viktor Krum situation all over again.

The starting line was electric, the energy in the air crackling like static. The crowd had grown silent in anticipation, all eyes trained on the six cars lined up on the asphalt. The engines rumbled, a low, primal growl that reverberated through the ground.

The flag waved, and the cars shot forward in a blur of colour and sound.

Draco’s Viper, always a showstopper, was immediately in its element. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his eyes were a hawk’s, focused on the track ahead. The silver and green beast slid into the first turn with barely a twitch, its tyres gripping the road like they were part of the asphalt itself.

Mark’s Mustang, never failing to showcase its flashy yellow paint and aggressive stance, was quick to catch up. He wasn’t playing around. The euphonious roar of his engine filled the air as he slid past the competition in a show of skill, the low, guttural sound of the exhaust growling as he whipped around the corner. Mark’s driving was fast, calculated, but there was a hint of something wild in the way he attacked the course – he wasn’t just racing; he was commanding the track.

Beside him, Finn’s Subaru Impreza was giving chase, the turbocharged engine singing a high-pitched note as it weaved through the turns with precision. Finn wasn’t a show-off, but he knew exactly when to push and when to hold back. He was a patient predator.

Javier Wannabe-Cool had his usual air of nonchalance. The red headlights of his car cutting through the mist made him look almost mythical as he raced, easily keeping pace with the others. His car’s sleek, aerodynamic design made it seem as if he was hardly even touching the road.

But Draco was alive. As the track twisted and turned, the Viper seemed to bend with the road. As they entered the final stretch, Draco’s Viper shot ahead, pushing through the gears with the kind of controlled chaos only he could manage.

Mark pushed hard, giving everything he had, but even his Mustang couldn’t quite keep up. The gap widened with every second. Draco was relentless, carving through the final curve and taking the last straight with a flash of green light, the underglow lighting up the track as the crowd exploded in cheers.

Draco crossed the finish line with a controlled ease. The crowd roared as he took his victory lap, the gleam of satisfaction in his silver eyes almost as dazzling as the car itself.

Mark came in a close second, the yellow Mustang still roaring in defiance, but Draco had made it clear – he was the best. No exception.

Finn crossed the line next, a quiet, steady presence, followed by Javier, who slowed just before the finish as if savouring the moment. Maverick brought up the rear, his Supra sounding tired but still proud. Ryan was last again; serves him right!

As the cars rolled off the track, Harry’s heart was still pounding in his chest, the adrenaline of the race running through his veins. Before all the engines cut off, leaving the place too silent, Harry was already out of his seat, Ginny trailing close behind him. They pushed through the crowd and only stopped to give Ron, Hermione and the Harpies a slight chance of catching up before practically running off to where the garages were, seeing all six cars lined up in front of them and the drivers shaking hands.

Harry pulled his friends through the edge of the crowd, once again earning some insults from the fans, but didn’t pay them any attention as he finally saw Draco’s figure, his back turned to Harry, his helmet now under his armpit. He was casually chatting with Maverick, ignoring all the screams from the excited crowd.

“Just a moment,” Harry excused himself, leaving his best mates with the Harpies again. The group of girls was headed towards Javier anyway, and he didn’t want to ruin this impeccable day by having to talk to him. He obviously knew this was a hazard, as Javier’s Lancer was only a few feet away from Draco’s Viper, and once he turned, Ron and Hermione would recognise him in an instant, but his blood was still rushing through his body at a way faster pace than it should be, and he took off to congratulate his… fuck, what even were they?

Ron’s voice called out, but Harry didn’t respond, lost in the single-minded pursuit of Draco. He needed this. He needed to get to him.

As Harry neared, Draco finally turned, his silver eyes catching Harry’s from across the way. His pace quickened into a full sprint, and he jumped at the blonde, wrapping his legs around Draco’s waist and making him stumble a bit. He kissed the pale cheek and smiled at him. Draco held him as if he was weightless, and an uneasy churning settled deep in his gut.

“Christ, Harry, are you trying to kill me?” Draco joked and carefully put Harry down, nodding at Maverick to give them a bit of privacy. The male strolled along to talk to an obnoxious Ryan, who was bent over, life flashing before his eyes. “Well, did you like?” the blonde asked as he held Harry tight, pressing their bodies together.

“That was so fucking hot,” Harry replied, eyes underlined with adoration, “You’re amazing!”

“Eh… I guess I had good motivation,” Draco chuckled, sending the shorter a wink, watching him blush and squirm in his hands. He smiled at the cuteness, eyes flicking down to Harry’s grinning lips. He smelled of strawberries and alcohol, and Draco wanted to taste every bit of him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if they kissed and they were – unfortunately – still in public.

“You got yourself a new fan, by the way,” the brunette pressed a finger into Draco’s chest.

The taller raised a curious eyebrow, “Which one of Ginny’s friends?”

“Her brother.”

Draco’s expression shifted from playful to intrigued, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over Harry’s shoulder toward Javier and his Lancer. “Ron Weasley?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me Weasley is a fan of mine?”

Harry laughed, his head tilting back as he tried to catch his breath, “Yes! Well, he’s still in the shock phase, trying to figure out how his Harry Potter ended up tangled with The Serpent.”

“His Harry Potter? Should I be worried about competition?” Draco smirked, a flicker of amusement sparking in his gorgeous mercury orbs, which could move mountains and break the most solid hearts with a single glance.

“Oh, sod off, you know what I mean,” Harry shook his head, his dark fringe falling onto his eyes. Draco brushed it off, his thumb tracing over the scar on Harry’s forehead with care and fondness.

“Does he know I’m… me?” the taller asked as his fingers trailed down Harry’s red cheeks, and he felt Harry shake his head in his grasp. “Well, God save me when he does.”

Harry found the way Draco said the Muggle expression quite refreshing. He had completely abandoned all the Merlins and Salazars and seemed comfortable with using the non-magical folks’ equivalent. He opened his mouth to reply, but the universe apparently had its own ideas about timing. He found himself being the victim of Murphy’s law, the centre of a badly written romance novel once again.

“Draco Malfoy?! No bloody way!”

The shout was loud enough to make Harry flinch, and Draco’s smirk morphed into an outright grin. Harry turned slowly, his stomach sinking as Ron’s voice echoed through the air like a war horn. The sound of hurried, angry footsteps followed, accompanied by Ginny’s frantic ‘Ron, for Merlin’s sake, calm down!’

Harry barely had time to react before his mate burst into view, his face an impressive shade of red that matched his hair. His wide eyes locked onto Draco, then flicked to Harry, disbelief and fury warring for dominance on his face.

“You… you’re him?!” Ron stammered, pointing an accusing finger at Draco like he was trying to hex him through sheer willpower. He could if he tried hard enough. “The bloody Serpent?!”

“Nice to see you too, Weasley,” Draco, who had turned at the commotion, looked thoroughly entertained. He leaned casually against the Viper, one eyebrow raised as he let Ron’s words pollute the cheery atmosphere. He retrieved his hands from around Harry’s waist, shoving them into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hope you prayed today,” the brunette whispered, taking a careful step back, amused.

“What the fuck?” Ron growled and looked at Harry, expecting him to look guilty, but he didn’t. He was too chill for his friend’s liking, the tip of his Chuck Taylor high-tops digging into the ground. Ron’s face twisted in disbelief, his gaze darting between Harry and Draco as if waiting for someone to jump out and yell, ‘Gotcha!’ When no one did, he threw his hands up in the air, letting out a weird, animal-like sound. “Standards, Harry! Standards! This is Malfoy! The same guy who spent seven years making our lives hell, and now you’re just... with him?!”

“Oh, but I thought you adored me, Weasley,” the blonde teased and jabbed his foot at the tyre of his car.

“Yeah, what was all that talk about legends and fit-looking guys?” Harry joined in, shooting a wide leer at the angry man.

“Really? Thank you!” Draco faked a smile and clutched his chest, “I knew you were a little starstruck. I saw the way you were gaping at me during the race.” His smirk was now dangerously smug. It was, obviously, a lie – all Draco focused on was the track ahead. But old habits stick around, and he craved to make a little fun of a Weasley after such a long time. “It’s all right. Most people have that reaction.”

“Starstruck?! Don’t flatter yourself!” Ron snapped, his face somehow growing even redder. He turned to Harry, gesturing wildly. “Mate, you’re seriously okay with this? He’s insufferable!”

Harry, still grinning, crossed his arms, “Actually, I find it kind of endearing.”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned and ran both of his hands through his orange hair, tugging on it as if he was trying to wake himself up from a living nightmare. He stared at him, then at Harry, still waiting for the punchline. When none came, he let out a long, frustrated groan. “I can’t believe this. You’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” Harry nodded, his expression softening. He looked at his… whatever!… and blushed a bit, the devotion in those silver eyes driving him mad. Merlin, Draco looked so good, lit by the neon green from his car, hair a bit messed up, face completely relaxed even though he was facing his mortal enemy from school. The change in him was more evident than ever before – his old self would scream and do anything to make Ron pay for even looking at him wrongly, but now, he was taunting him in a calm manner that was not far from friendly, brushing the edge of childishness, but the maturity overruling it. Harry couldn’t help but feel his heart expand and found himself staring a bit too long, no longer looking at Draco with need but also love.

Was Harry actually falling in love?

There was no way. Kissing and having sex was one thing, but this was entirely different. This was way too personal, way too scary, but he was, for some reason, ready to accept the challenge. The way Draco could look so unbothered while completely unravelling Harry with a single glance was maddening.

Ron’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Oi, are you even listening to me?” His best mate was staring at him with a mixture of concern and despair, clearly unaware of the emotional epiphany Harry had just had.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” ears turning pink, Harry mumbled. He tore his gaze away from Draco, though it took more effort than he cared to admit. “Look, Ron, I get it. This is… a lot. But I promise you, it’s not what you think.”

Ron’s face twisted, “Not what I think? Because what I think is that you’ve gone completely mental.”

He opened his mouth to launch into another tirade, but before he could get a word out, Javier What’s-His-Doodle swooped in, Ginny in tow. He let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the show. “Man, I don’t even know the backstory here, but this is gold.”

Harry hated to admit it, but the guy did save his arse a little. He and his stupid ‘I don’t care’ aura, which he was now a bit grateful for. He took his stance next to Draco and leaned against the Viper, making Harry wonder whether he was going to end up like poor Mark last year, but Draco didn’t seem to mind that much. He seemed way closer to Javier than the other drivers.

“Nice to see you again, Harry,” the American smiled, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, “This guy hasn’t stopped talking about you since last year.”

Draco scoffed loudly, his gaze falling to the ground, “Come on, that’s a bit exaggerated.”

“Er, no, it’s not. Every single race,” he cleared his throat and spoke in his horrible British accent, “Do you reckon Harry’s coming today? Do you think he’s well? I miss him so much, should I text him?”

“I don’t text, Javi,” the blonde defended himself, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Right – should I write him a letter, mate? Or invite him for a cuppa?” Javier Who’s-He-Supposed-To-Be let out a loud titter, his voice annoying and his totally wrong impression making Harry twist his mouth in disgust. “I love him, Javi-“

“Hey, I never said that!“

“Sure, Dee, whatever rings your bell,” Javi shook his head, directing his stare at Ron, “And you, why are you so worked up? I guess the temper runs in the bloodline.” He shot a playful wink at his girlfriend, who furrowed her brows but didn’t press since that would only prove his point.

Ron looked completely lost. His brain was melting from seeing Draco being civil with a Muggle, touching and nudging him like they were best friends, which they were. He was starting to see the point – Draco wasn’t the bratty kid he was back at Hogwarts.

“I think I need a drink,” the ginger male blinked twice, still shaken to the core.

Javier’s eyes lit up, “Great, our place, then! Come on.”

“Race you home?” Draco suggested and watched Javi nod franticly.

Before Harry could realise it, he was seated in the passenger seat of Draco’s glamorous Viper, listening to the sonorous growl of the engine, which seemed a bit muffled from the inside of the car, to his disappointment. Draco stomped on the gas pedal twice, revving the strong machine, looking to his right through the tinted window to see Javier What’s-his-face’s reaction. The Lancer mirrored the action, and Harry could see Ginny squeal with excitement as she sat next to her partner. Ron and Hermione were seated in the back, the ginger scared and shaking as if he was facing Aragog again. His experience with sitting in a car resulted in them getting almost slaughtered by the Whomping Willow, which was something that still haunted him in his sleep. Harry could easily imagine why he was so stressed out.

“Let’s see if you’re the Boy Who Gets to Live for the third time,” Draco turned his head to look at Harry, his face stone-cold but his eyes still holding a playful shimmer. “My tyres are a bit shit after the race.”

Harry couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.” He clutched the seatbelt as Draco smirked, the mischievous gleam in his silver eyes suggesting he was anything but.

“Nah,” Draco drawled, his tone light but the grip on the steering wheel firm. His foot hovered over the accelerator, the Viper purring like a restless beast ready to bolt. “But you’ll be fine. You’re with me.”

“Right, 'cause you’re a pro,” he rolled his big, green eyes.

“Yeah. Better hold on to something.”

The Viper roared to life, launching forward with a surge that pinned Harry to his seat. The tyres screeched against the asphalt, the scent of burnt rubber filling the air as they shot ahead. He was still glued to his seat, jaw probably hitting the floor. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He dreamed about sitting next to Draco way more than he cared to admit, but somehow, the dreams failed to capture how it would truly feel.

It was horrible and terrifying, and Harry had seen some scary shit in his life, but nothing compared.

He felt like his heart was trying to climb out of his throat, his hearing faltering. The world outside blurred into streaks of neon and shadow, the hum of the engine vibrating through his chest. He gripped the edge of his seat, knuckles white, every muscle in his body tense. Draco was, however, pretty damn calm, shifting gears with a skilled hand, the other one gripping the steering wheel, taking every turn with exactness. He narrowly missed a streetlight and looked at Harry with a corner of his mouth turned upwards evilly.

The streets of the city came into view, or at least they were trying to. The outlines of every single building were smudged, only dark blobs passing by as Draco and Javier weaved through the traffic, passing many cars whose drivers were honking at them furiously.

The Lancer wasn’t far behind, its turbocharger kicking in with a distinctive hiss as Javier pushed it to the limit. Ginny’s excited cheers rang out the opened window, her hand stuck out of it. Harry’s heart raced in sync with the Viper’s engine, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Draco shifted gears again, flooring it, going even faster than before and leaving Javier’s car far behind. The Viper tore through a tight corner, and Harry felt the tyres grip the asphalt with an almost predatory precision. His stomach flipped.

Then, they had to stop at a red light. Harry could finally breathe.

“This is mad,” he shook his head, looking at Draco wide-eyed and shaky.

“Scared?” the blonde teased, his hand falling to Harry’s thigh, which he gave an encouraging squeeze. “Come on, it’s only a bit faster than your Firebolt.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” the brunette shook his head, gaze now fixed on Draco’s veiny hand, making his dry mouth water. He hadn’t even noticed the three rings accessorising his fingers, but now that he had, it was hard to look away.

“This is nothing.”

The Lancer rolled up beside them, its engine rumbling with a low snarl that signalled it was ready for more. Javier rolled the window down, leaning out of it and smirking at Harry, motioning for him to do the same so he could talk to Draco – no, The Serpent.

“There’s a weird button in my car, Dee,” he cocked his head sassily, “It says NO2 or some shit… You familiar with it?”

“Go ahead, by all means, if you want to kill poor Weasley over there,” Draco nodded his head at the pale Ron in the backseat, who was clutching the headrest with shaky hands.

Javier let out a bark of laughter, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Oh, I don’t think Ron’s gonna be the one I’m worried about if I hit that button,” he teased, glancing back at the ginger. “But, hey, if you think I’m scared, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have nitrous, Javi. Very brave,” Draco shouted and looked at Harry, who was both confused and mortified. He slapped his thigh and flipped the cap of a red button, his hands hovering over it dangerously. “Once we’re out of the city, you’re dead, Killer.”

The light flickered to orange, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. The world seemed to hold its breath with him. The Lancer beside them growled impatiently, the sound of Javier revving the engine cutting through the tension.

Fuck…

Draco hit the gas pedal, doing his significant green burnout to warm his tyres, and the car started to shake.

“I’ll give you a head start, Javi.”

Double fuck…

Then, the light turned green.

The world exploded in motion.

Draco’s Viper shot forward with a violent surge, a beast unleashed on the streets. Harry barely had time to inhale before his stomach dropped, and he was pressed back into his seat, every ounce of his body bracing against the force.

Beside them, Javier’s Lancer revved aggressively, a jet-fueled monster in its own right. Harry caught a glimpse of Javier’s cocky grin through the window, and the car shot forward with the same intensity, matching the Viper's speed.

But Draco wasn’t backing down. His fingers gripped the wheel with deadly accuracy, his eyes alight with the thrill of the chase. With a swift flick of his wrist, he shifted gears, and the Viper surged forward, leaving the Lancer in its dust.

“Too slow, bitch!” he screamed from the window, then quickly rolled it up since the wind hitting his ears made it difficult to focus. The car launched forward again, and Harry could feel the G-forces pushing him deeper into his seat as the speedometer crept up. It was terrifying. But also, after getting accustomed to it, exhilarating. The engine purred beneath them, the sound a wild symphony that filled his entire body with epinephrine.

Just as promised, they exited the city, leaving them on a long, empty stretch of road where the horizon seemed to stretch on forever, the streets devoid of cars, save for the two speeding brutes. The Viper, a sleek, silver streak in the dark, slowed down a bit so Javier Fuckity-Fuck could catch up.

The blonde hopped the lane, now going against the traffic, but luckily, no cars were anywhere near them. He could see Javier ease into their previous place. Harry stammered out, “Do you have a death wish?”

“Always,” Draco’s voice was calm, his head turned in the Lancer’s direction, hypnotising the driver. He wasn’t looking at the road ahead, even though he obviously should’ve, since any second, a car could zoom straight into them. Their eyes were conversing silently, and Harry swore he could hear the clock ticking. He knew shit was about to go down. “Harry, love,” Draco said, still eyeing Javier, “There’s a big bottle of gas under your seat. Turn the knob to the right.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. A big bottle of gas? Was Draco seriously asking him to turn it on while they were racing against another car – while they were driving on the wrong side of the road? With shaky hands, Harry did as he was told, and when he turned the knob… to say he regretted the decision would be an understatement.

A bright blue flame shot out of the Lancer’s exhaust, and the car surged forward like a rocket, leaving them behind for a split second. Harry's stomach kept doing flips. He could hear the high-pitched whine of the turbocharger as the Lancer pushed past them at a speed that felt almost unnatural.

“Fuck me,” Harry breathed out shakily.

"Just stay with me," Draco’s voice came out smooth, almost like he was enjoying this more than he should. He kept his eyes locked on the Lancer, not missing a beat. "We’ve got this."

Before Harry could even process what was happening, Draco slammed his hand down on the nitrous button. The car shot forward with an explosive force, the roar of the Viper drowning out everything else. Everything seemed to be moving too fast to keep up with. The Lancer wasn’t far ahead, its blue flame still flickering behind it. Javier was making every move to keep them in sight, but it was clear Draco wasn’t having any of it. The gap between the two cars was closing, inch by inch.

Draco was a madman, driving like a possessed lunatic, his eyes focused on the prize. Harry held on for dear life, his body tense with anticipation, his heart racing in his chest. The two cars were neck-and-neck, each vying for supremacy.

“Draco…” Harry gasped, his voice barely audible over the engine's deafening roar. “How fast are we going?”

“We’re about to find out,” Draco said with a smirk that sent a chill down Harry’s spine. His eyes glinted with something wild and dangerous.

With a final, effortless flick of his wrist, Draco slammed the gearstick down, undershifting, pushing the Viper to its limits. The engine screamed in protest, but the car responded, surging forward like a missile. The Lancer was no longer a threat. Draco passed it like it was standing still, the world around them nothing but a streak of light.

Harry had experienced death before, and it felt exactly like this.

After the final turn, a big cottage filled Harry’s field of view. It was surrounded by a forest, alone in the middle, no other houses around. Draco’s car finally slowed down as he drove carefully through the driveway, stopping on a makeshift gravel parking lot. He turned the aggressive engine off with a smile and leaned back, relaxing. He stretched his arms out and wrinkled his face.

“That went well,” he nodded his head, then shot the shaky Harry a look of raw happiness.

“You’re a fucking psychopath.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Once again, there was the loud music, the alcohol, and the unserious conversations, just like the last time. Today, however, Harry was sitting with his legs pulled under him on a large leather couch, silently admiring the place Draco and Javier were renting for the time they were supposed to spend in Wales. It was a beautiful cottage, really – cosy and warm, and he could only imagine it would feel even more welcoming in the winter.

He took a big gulp of his rum, letting it burn in his throat as he sighed, finally relaxing. Ron was seated next to him, still clutching onto Hermione as if his life was still in danger, scoffing over at Ginny, judging her choice of partner, and making remarks about how he’d never be invited to the family Christmas dinner.

The American only replied with, “That’s not very Gryffindor of you, Ron,” leaving the trio in shock. As it turns out, being mates with Draco and dating Ginny meant he was well aware of the existence of magic, which was a huge relief, allowing the whole group to be more comfortable around him and not having to worry about the Statute of Secrecy, since it was already broken.

Draco had his arm around Harry’s shoulders, behaving strangely as a boyfriend would, which only made Harry’s heart ache. They were, after all, casual. He still kissed Harry passionately when he stumbled out of the silver Viper, praising him for doing well, which was far from true.

Harry was a mess, his hands shaky and his breath shallow, and he was somewhere on the edge of wanting to drop dead and begging Draco for another ride because, as bad as it was, it left him full of exhilaration. He rode dragons, hippogriffs and several broomsticks, but nothing made him as sick to his stomach as a simple Muggle machine.

It seemed like Ron had warmed up to the new Draco, even going as far as reliving old memories from school, carefully avoiding any topic that would involve mutual bullying and Voldemort. They laughed about McGonagall, talked about how their classmates were doing, and complained about all the assignments they were given back in the day. Harry sat there, thoughts loose and mind blurry. The word ‘boyfriend’ kept popping up in his brain because that was exactly what Draco felt like right now – like his significant other, enjoying his night with Harry’s friends.

The soft murmur of guitars and drums filled the room, and Ginny hummed along to the Green Day songs, which she suddenly liked because of Javier Who-wasn’t-so-bad-after-all. Harry had been trying to get her to like the band for ages, never succeeding, yet all it took was one American Muggle to change her mind.

Draco noticed him being quiet and brushed his fringe out of his eyes again, “What’s wrong, darling?”

Harry blinked, startled by Draco's soft voice, his gaze drifting up to meet the blonde’s concerned eyes. It was strange, this dynamic, this relationship they had that neither of them had properly defined. Yet, it felt like it was becoming something more, something neither of them could avoid.

“Nothing,” he lied and pulled out the fakest smile he could, which was still not enough to convince the blonde. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “Later…”

“Whatever you say,” Draco nodded and pecked the top of Harry’s head sweetly. “Wanna stay the night?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, Jesus. Excited much?”

Harry felt his face flush, embarrassed by his immediate, overly eager response. He quickly looked away, taking another gulp of his rum to cover up his reaction. He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but there was something about the idea of staying with Draco tonight that seemed... right. More than right, actually – comforting in a way.

The last time they met, he walked out like a cowardly idiot right after Draco rearranged his insides.

“Well, I suppose I’ll take the couch,” Draco said, breaking the silence, though his voice held a playful edge. “Wouldn’t want to force you to share my bed, would I?”

“Stop it,” Harry said, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re not that smooth, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled, "You sure about that, love?"

Harry blushed hard and met his gaze, and for a moment, everything around them faded. The laughter in the background, the murmur of voices – nothing mattered except for the two of them, sitting here in this strange but comfortable space between what they were and what they might be.

Draco’s smile softened, and without another word, he pulled Harry closer, letting the quiet hum of the evening settle around them. He locked their lips together in the most tender way, his hand on Harry’s nape, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, Harry was in so deep. Yes, they had only met for the second time after the trial, but it seemed like they spent months together. Maybe it was a result of the built-up tension of not seeing each other for months or the fact that, for some reason, Draco understood him better than any of his lifelong friends.

It was only natural; the two spent seven years ogling at each other every day, all day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Harry was sure he knew how Draco liked his tea, when he went to sleep, what he looked like when stressed and happy, and even how he held his quill – the subtle way his fingers gripped it, tapping it against his lips when he was thinking. Harry had seen so much of Draco that there was little left for imagination.

At this point, he even knew about every tattoo on his body. From his shoulder to his elbow, he had a dark forest, some trees tattooed in red ink to make it more interesting and dimensional, and somewhere between them, you could see a mighty hippogriff flying. Harry had learned that this was a memory of Buckbeak, a creature Draco almost killed by complaining to his father. On his forearm, he had a set of skulls and snakes that would cover the Dark Mark but not take its meaning away, so Draco would be reminded of what he once was and what he could be. He had a lightning bolt on his right hipbone, which looked strangely similar to Harry’s scar, but he decided not to question that one. On his nape, a Ukranian Ironbelly could be found, although it was only visible when Draco pulled his hair up. Finally, on his right wrist, he tattooed a quote in Latin (yes, himself, much to Harry’s amazement) - In te, me invēni. In you, I found myself. It wasn’t there the last time they saw each other. Draco informed him he did it last December as a Christmas present for himself.

Even thinking about the tattoos was hazardous. Harry felt heat rush to his groin, so he shifted in his seat and reached over Draco to grab a soft pillow, placing it on his lap, even though he was pretty sure every male in the room would quickly realise what was happening beneath the layers of fabric. To make matters worse, Draco looked over to Javier, leaving his delicate neck exposed, the hickey Harry made on full display. The small, dark bruise stood out against Draco’s pale skin, a silent reminder of their earlier intimacy. Harry swallowed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across his face and down his neck.

Ginny’s giggles snapped him out of his thoughts, “I got some bad news for you, Javi.” Harry looked over at her, seeing her with a deck of tarot cards. Apparently, Javier Ramirez wanted to see some magic at work and insisted on getting a reading. She didn’t bother explaining to him that Divination was utter nonsense and made the whole thing into a spectacle. “I see bad things in your future,” her voice was low and dark, eyes filled with mischief.

“God, I can’t listen to this,” Harry rolled his eyes and tuned out as fast as he tuned it, carefully standing from the couch once he made sure everything was safe down there.

Draco let out a laugh, “Right? It’s almost as if Professor Trelawney didn’t teach her a thing.”

Ginny smirked, shuffling the cards dramatically. "You might want to pay attention, Harry. It’s not every day you get to witness my expert predictions." She paused for effect, flipping over the first card.

Javier leaned forward, eager to hear what she would say. "Come on, give it to me straight, Ginny. What's coming?"

She looked at the card, then at him, her face turning serious. "I see… a broken car door handle, endless fuel bills, and a very regrettable purchase of a neon-coloured steering wheel."

“No!”

He could only hear Javier’s desperate screams from afar as he headed upstairs and looked for Draco’s room, the glass of rum still in his hand. He downed it quickly and refilled it with a spell.

He found it at the end of the hallway, the door slightly ajar. Inside, it was just as he'd imagined – minimalist and tidy, save for a leather jacket draped over the back of a chair and a stack of books on the nightstand. A faint trace of Draco's cologne lingered in the air, sharp and crisp, and it hit Harry with an unexpected wave of comfort.

He stepped inside, setting his glass on the nightstand before flopping onto the bed. It was softer than he expected, the duvet cool and inviting. He stared up at the ceiling, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains.

A sigh left his lips.

Damn, what was he even doing, lying in Draco’s room, thinking about how he felt every time the blonde smiled at him, touched him or even spoke to him?

He couldn’t be in love; it just wouldn’t work out. He was at Hogwarts most of the year, with little to no time to hang out. To top it off, he didn’t even know if the blonde felt the same way. As far as he knew, he could be one of Draco’s many flings, which he admitted to have last August before he stuffed his glorious dick inside Harry’s arse. But then again, neither he nor Javier said anything that would hint at him continuing this nasty habit of his, rather the opposite. Javier made some comments about Draco’s virginity slowly coming back and the lack of action he’d been getting, but that surely didn’t mean anything, right?

“Don’t worry, bro, I’m in it with you,” Javier said a couple of hours ago, “Once a month is enough, anyway.” He winked at Ginny, who playfully slapped his arm, and Harry was sure he heard him continue with an ‘Although, nine months?’ but that could only be his imagination and naivety.

Harry exhaled heavily, running a hand over his face as he tried to silence the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. It wasn’t like him to spiral like this – so unsure, so unsettled. But Draco had this uncanny ability to pull him apart and piece him back together with just a look or a careless word. The room was eerily quiet compared to the lively buzz downstairs. It felt like a sanctuary, safe and warm.

Without noticing Draco’s footsteps, he felt the bed beside him shift as Draco’s kind face came into view. “Hey, depresso, how’s it going?” his speech was a bit slurred from all the alcohol he drank.

Harry groaned and rubbed his eyes with his clutched fists, lifting his glasses up for better access, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie, or I’m calling Ginny to tarot read the shit out of you,” the blonde threatened with a perky tone. “She apologised to me today, did you hear?”

“Must’ve spaced out,” Harry replied truthfully and turned his body so he wasn’t staring at the embodiment of beauty that made his guts twist even more than his reckless way of driving.

“Of course you did,” he heard Draco say, “Seriously, what’s wrong, love?”

“Please, stop calling me that,” Harry said a bit too quickly and covered his embarrassed face with a pillow. Somehow, it was the best thing to conceal anything he was feeling.

"What’s wrong with ‘love’? Too honest for you?" Draco chuckled, the sound soft and warm. Harry could feel the mattress shift again as the blonde moved closer. He placed a warm hand on the curve of Harry’s waist.

“You don’t mean that,” the brunette’s words were muted by the pillow, but the message sunk deep into Draco’s skin.

He lay down next to Harry and threw his arm over him, “You’re the most oblivious person on this planet.”

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Harry peeked out from under the pillow, his face a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

Draco sighed dramatically, settling more comfortably beside him. "It means I’m not exactly subtle, Potter. I don’t call everyone ‘love.’ You think I go around cuddling people and letting them sulk in my room like this? Honestly, it’s exhausting how thick you can be sometimes."

Harry moved onto his side, glaring at Draco with a mixture of scepticism and curiosity. He blinked, confused

“God, do I need to spell it out for you?” Draco laughed softly and leaned closer, his lips brushing against Harry’s temple. “I wasn’t planning on telling you, to be honest, but this winter, I was contemplating quitting racing-“

“-WHAT?-“

“Just let me finish, you fucker… I was in a really bad place after you left. Whenever I sat in my car, all I could think about was you. I even bought an old rust bucket to see if that goes any better,” Draco spoke quietly and sincerely, “I crashed it a week into having it. Boom, right into a tree. I had one thing that made me happy, and you took it away from me, just like I said you would. But I couldn’t be angry, really. I mean, I let you do it even though I knew it would end like this.”

Harry stared at Draco, his brain working overtime to process the sudden wave of confessions. He was hit with guilt and even more sadness, if that was even possible. He was at a loss for words.

“Every time I raced, I searched for you in the crowd. I came in second once… And one time, even fucking Ryan beat me. That was the breaking point for me.”

Harry blinked, his chest tightening as the weight of Draco's words settled over him like a heavy blanket. "Ryan?" he asked dumbly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You let Ryan beat you?"

“I didn’t exactly let him, you know… Not my greatest moment. It was only because of Javi I was able to pull myself together. He talked some sense into me. Otherwise, I’d be a raging alcoholic with no will to live. All because you left…”

"You should’ve told me," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with regret. "I wouldn’t have if I knew..."

“Well, I’m not the bravest man out there, am I?” Draco chuckled as he drew small circles across the small of Harry’s back. “I always had a weak spot for you, Potter. Ever since I was young. And I was doing so well to forget about you, but then you came like a fucking storm, told me all the things I wanted to hear and crushed my heart again. But after some time, I changed my way of thinking, and rather than beating me down, the thought of you showing up kept pushing me forward.”

Harry swallowed hard, his heart aching as he listened to Draco’s confession. He was such an idiot! How could he not realise? How could he ignore every sign Draco had thrown at him? He only thought about his own feelings, not even considering the blonde may feel like this… Damnit!

Draco’s smile was minimal and full of sorrow, “And now you’re here, but you’re still going to leave in the morning, right?” Harry shook his head, reaching over to cup Draco’s face into his hands, but he only pulled away. “No, it’s okay. You have a life at Hogwarts. I travel the UK. It’s just not…”

“No,” Harry heard his own voice break, his eyes welling up with tears, “No, I want to try.”

“But I don’t want to live with only getting to see you once a year.”

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as Draco’s words hung in the air. The ache in his throat was nearly unbearable, but he couldn’t let this slip away, not after everything they’d just said, not after the things they’d shared.

"Draco..." Harry’s voice was thick with emotion, and he reached for the blonde’s face again, this time holding him, not giving him a chance to pull away. A single tear fell down his cheek. "No, I’ll make more time for you.”

Draco’s words were sharp and hoarse, “Like you did these past months?”

The words hit Harry like a punch to the gut, and he immediately felt his organs sink even further. He opened his mouth to speak but found it difficult to do so. He took Draco’s hand into his own and traced the tail of a snake that curled around his thumb.

He inhaled sharply, then strained out, “I was scared, okay? I’m sorry, I wanted to come see you, but you weren’t racing during winter, and I was worried you’d think I’m a lovesick idiot if I showed out of the blue, and then school started again, and I begged Ginny to let me tag along, but-“ His throat finally gave out, and he broke down in hot tears, lips quivering. He still held Draco’s hand since it was the only thing that was grounding him. “I want to try,” he sobbed, “Please.”

Draco’s face softened, and he slowly reached up to gently wipe away Harry’s tears, his thumb brushing against the wetness on Harry’s cheek. “Hey,” Draco murmured, his voice quieter now but still thick with emotion. “If you promise to fight, then I’ll fight, too.”

Harry nodded, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and longing. He could feel the weight of the past months lifting slightly, replaced with the warmth of Draco’s presence and the hope for what might come next. With Draco’s arms around him, Harry knew they had a chance to fix this, to heal, and to build something that was worth fighting for. He saw the blur of Draco inch closer and felt a warm kiss on his mouth.

It stopped his tears almost instantly, and when he pulled away, he wiped any evidence of ever crying like a toddler away, cheeks dusted red. He stared at Draco, who was smiling sweetly at him and kissed him again, their lips dancing slowly and softly, tasting the faintest trace of rum and strawberries on each other.

Harry’s hands finally moved from Draco’s own to the back of his head, diving into the mess of blonde hair. His fingers were tangled in the soft strands, pulling Draco even closer. Their kisses grew deeper and more passionate, leaving them both breathless and wanting more.

Draco's hands slid beneath Harry's shirt, caressing his skin as if he were touching something sacred. The contact made Harry shudder, his entire body coming alive with a new surge of desire. He put his leg around Draco's body, closing the gap between them.

With every brush of lips and tongue, the tension grew, their bodies aching for release. They were both breathing heavily now, and their hips were moving together, grinding in a steady rhythm. Draco’s hot breath fanned over Harry’s face, driving him nuts. Harry moaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down the expanse of Draco's back, grabbing his perfect arse through his jeans. It felt like they were both burning up, and the heat was making their movements clumsy and sloppy.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Draco flipped them over so he was on top of Harry, still grinding into him at a steady pace. The brunette brushed his blonde hair out of his face, cherishing the breathtaking view, before losing all his temper and pulling the white shirt over Draco’s head. He leaned in, trailing his lips over the exposed skin, nipping and sucking on the hickey that shone on the pale neck.

"Fuck," Draco groaned, supporting himself on one elbow while his other hand trailed over Harry’s body, yanking at the fabric of his graphic tee. “Off, now.”

Harry nodded quickly and complied, his mind fuzzy from arousal. The blonde was quick to move his lips to Harry's bare chest, trailing a path down to his stomach, lingering on his happy trail. His hands moved slowly over Harry's sides, the touch light and teasing.

The brunette felt himself tense up as Draco's mouth reached the waistband of his jeans, his breathing quickening as anticipation built within him. He took them off with a swift motion and threw them to the floor, his briefs following suit. He unbuckled his own belt and undressed, too, making Harry stare in awe.

Draco was as perfect as Harry remembered. He swallowed, his cock already leaking with precum.

“You’re gorgeous,” the blonde whispered lustfully. He ran his hand over the length of Harry's cock, his grip firm but gentle. Harry moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensation washed over him. Draco's fingers wrapped around the shaft, and he began stroking him slowly, building a steady rhythm. Every time his hand dipped into the dark curls on its base, Harry let out a lewd sound of pure bliss.

"So good, baby," Draco breathed, his lips moving to the sensitive skin just below Harry's ear, which he sucked at, loving the little sounds Harry made.

"Draco… please," he whimpered, his hips bucking upwards, begging for more.

"Tell me what you want," Draco's voice was husky with desire.

"You," Harry gasped.

"I'm right here, baby," Draco's thumb brushed over the head of Harry's cock, smearing precum over the slit.

"I want you," Harry repeated, his voice pleading.

Draco grinned, "Oh, but I'm enjoying myself here.” He attacked Harry’s lips again, slipping his tongue inside his mouth. He pulled back for a second, a string of saliva connecting them. Harry was already panting heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears.

"Draco," he panted, his fingers digging into the blonde's shoulders.

Draco hummed and continued his ministrations, his grip becoming a bit more demanding, his strokes harder and faster. Harry was slowly losing his mind. He arched his back, and spread his legs wider instinctively, and pushed himself into Draco’s hand.

"Please fuck me," Harry pleaded, his eyes fluttering shut in embarrassment. That was all it took for Draco to reach over to his nightstand and pull out a small bottle of lube, this time cherry-flavoured. He was ready to squeeze the liquid on his slender fingers, but Harry’s firm hand stopped him.  Every second without Draco’s cock throbbing inside of him was a torment. “No,” he shook his head, “Just go in.”

Draco's eyes widened, his cheeks tinting a dark shade of pink, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry nodded eagerly, his breath catching in his throat.

The blonde leaned in and pressed his lips against the brunette's. "You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?" he whispered, his voice heavy with desire. He still squeezed the bottle of lube and stroked along his prick with the tiniest drop of the sticky mess, not wanting to hurt his precious Harry. He grabbed hold of Harry’s calves and put the beautiful, tan legs on his shoulders, lining himself up along his entrance.

As Draco’s tip dipped inside, Harry trembled, a shuddering breath escaping him along with a sharp curse. He shot him a worried glance, but the need in those green eyes made him lose control, and he slammed his entire length inside Harry’s tight arse, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Harry felt his hole stretch deliciously as Draco bottomed out. The blonde's cock was big, thick, and hot. He felt the slight sting of pain, but the pleasure overwhelmed the discomfort. It was a different feeling than last time, but it was just as wonderful, maybe even better, due to the emotional value now present.

Harry's back arched, and he let out a strangled moan, his nails digging into the sheets beneath him. “Shit, Draco,” he cried out loud when he felt Draco’s cock brush against his prostate.

He began moving his hips, slow at first, grasping Harry’s muscular thigh. He started thrusting harder, his movements becoming more erratic. Harry was panting and moaning beneath him, his legs trembling so much they fell from Draco’s shoulders and hung around his elbows.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the smell of sex. Draco looked down at Harry, taking in the sight before him. He picked up the pace, his cock diving in and out of Harry's arse at a punishing rhythm. Flushed and shaky, the brunette’s legs dropped from Draco’s arms and wrapped around his slim waist, allowing him to push in even deeper.

Draco relished the feeling of Harry’s muscles clenching around his cock and let out a silent scream, his forehead already damp with sweat. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Harry's prick and gave him a few firm tugs, savouring every sound the man below him made and every little reaction his tan body had to him. Harry felt his entire body tense up, and his eyes rolled back as the pleasure grew to unbearable levels.

With every thrust, he became more and more aware of the fact that Draco did, in fact, like him a little more than he thought. His moves were so filled with love it made it hard not to lose himself in the feeling of touching his smooth skin. It edged him on so much he was sure he’d reach his orgasm any second, but fuck, he couldn’t. He mustn’t. It was too good, and he didn’t want it to ever end.

Draco’s lips kept attacking Harry’s neck in open-mouthed, wet kisses that held so much emotion. He’d never imagined caring so much for the blonde (and vice-versa), but now that he did, it was the best decision of his life, as well as a sensation he’d never get enough of. Draco was sweet and beautiful and so fucking good.

He mustered up all the courage he had in him and pressed their lips together, trying his best not to moan into the kiss. His hips bucked up as Draco's cock hit his prostate, and he was suddenly overtaken by the need to cum. "Fuck!" he screamed, pulling at Draco's hair, "Fuck, I'm so close.”

Draco’s grip around Harry tightened as he sped up his strokes and thrusts yet again, now moving at an inhumane pace, wrecking the already messed up brunette under him. Seeing Harry like this was the best thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon, and his head spun in regret and wonder – could they be doing this for all these years? And why, in the name of God, had he been missing out? He felt the familiar heat in his belly spreading across his entire body and felt his cock twitch.

All it took was a few more thrusts before Harry released all over his own chest, the sight of him covered in his own spunk so erotic it sent Draco over the edge Draco as he emptied himself inside Harry's arse, riding out his orgasm and collapsing on top of the brunette's chest, his lungs working like crazy.

“Shit,” he whispered into Harry’s neck.

“Shit indeed.”

Chapter Text

Press on the clutch, first gear, release the handbrake. Right foot on the accelerator.

Slowly lift the clutch pedal, feel the vibration of the car.

The car stalled. Again.

God, Harry couldn’t get a hold of it no matter how hard he tried. But Draco was doing it so effortlessly... How?

Again.

Clutch, foot off the brake, press the throttle. The car jerked but finally moved. Harry was in motion.

„Fuck!“ he cussed loudly, not really expecting it, even though he’d been trying to achieve this goal for the past thirty minutes. His hand instinctively moved to the handbrake, on which he pulled violently, earning an ugly screeching sound from his newly purchased Nissan. “Sorry,” he apologised to the car like the idiot he was, patting the steering wheel lightly.

Again.

“I think you should take a breather,” Draco chuckled from the passenger seat and rested his hand on Harry’s thigh.

“What? No!” the brunette complained and shook the stress off his features, eyes now locked on the road ahead of him. “I’ve got this.”

“Whatever you say,” Draco raised his hands in surrender, a warm smile resting on his pink lips. He’s been nothing but supportive of Harry’s crazy idea of buying a car and insisted on teaching him how to drive now that school was almost over. He spent the past month racing in Scotland, allowing Harry to visit him on weekends. “’Kay,” he nodded his head, “Try this – foot off the clutch completely, just focus on the gas right now.”

“I’m trying to move, Draco,” Harry looked at him, a bit of annoyance slipping through the mask he put on in order not to explode and Reducto the shit out of the innocent scarlet vehicle.

“Just rev it for me, Potter,” Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry did as he was told.

“More.”

He pressed the gas pedal even harder.

“More! Floor it. I want to hear that shit!”

The engine growled loudly, reverberating through the car's interior and making Harry’s chest vibrate with its sheer power. He glanced sideways at Draco, who looked utterly delighted, his sharp features alight with amusement and mischief.

“Beautiful! Now do that when you lift the clutch,” the blonde nodded in encouragement, ignoring Harry’s scepticism.

“But I don’t want to crash-“

Draco sighed sharply, “God damn, Harry, I’m trying to get you to roll somehow.”

“Okay, Merlin!” the bridge of Harry’s nose wrinkled as he gripped the steering wheel again, taking a deep breath. Lift the clutch slowly but stomp on the engine – he could do this; there was no way he was about to be defeated by a machine. Foot on the pedal, and-

Harry was surprised when his body pressed into the car seat, the lovely Nissan zooming ahead at an alarming speed. It wasn’t anywhere near what he felt every time Draco was driving, but it was still enough to feel the pressure in his ears. The blonde cheered and told him to shift gears, which he happily obliged to. Harry was actually driving. The car wobbled slightly as Harry’s left foot got a little too eager with the clutch, but he quickly adjusted, his focus unshakable now. He could hear the faint purr of the engine settling into a rhythm as he eased up on the accelerator.

“So, was I right or was I right?” Draco cocked his head sassily, leaning back and hanging one of his arms out of the open window.

Harry bit back a smile, “Shut up. If I take off like that in public, I’ll crash into someone.”

“Nah, you’ll get there eventually. The most important thing is that you moved,” Draco’s self-satisfied smile widened, eyes full of pride as he watched Harry closely. He was breathtaking against the golden sunset, the orange tones flickering on his tan skin. He looked like liquid gold, like a flame in a forest – so alive, so happy, and so gorgeous. Like something too perfect to exist, making Draco feel like he was tainting him by breathing the same air as him.

“Will you teach me how to drift now?” his voice was a sharp contrast to the calm atmosphere, laced with expectation and adventurous thrill.

“What?”

“What?” Harry shrugged, “Should be easy, right?”

Draco barked out a low laugh, “Unbelievable.”

“Is that a no?” Harry pressed as he turned his steering wheel around, the car making a perfect circle around a lamppost. He knew the answer without having to hear it, feeling Draco’s eyes digging holes into the side of his head. His upper lip quirked up as he did a few more leaps around the parking lot, feeling comfortable enough to shift into the third and later even into the fourth gear, picking up speed. Sure, if he were on an actual road, he’d be totally horrified, but there was nothing that could hurt him here. He took sharp turns and teased the accelerator some more, finding comfort in the high-pitched buzz of his motor.

“Why a Silvia?” Draco asked after a moment of silence.

Confused, Harry tilted his head, “Who’s Silvia?”

“Your car?” the blonde’s eyebrows shot up, expression shifting from that of joy to a rather confused one.

“No, I didn’t name it yet. I was thinking it’s more like a… Gary,” Harry tapped his pointer finger to his chin, “Or Gertrude.”

“For fuck’s sake, Potter,” the man next to him groaned, “How did you even get this bloody car if you don’t even know the name of it?”

Harry raised his shoulders momentarily. “It was pretty. I like pop-up headlights.”

“Well, just so you know,” Draco said matter-of-factly, “You’re driving a JDM legend, love. 1998 Nissan Silvia S13, and from what I hear, it’s heavily modded. We’re talking 400 horsepower, maybe even more. You’ve got coilovers, which means the ride height is adjustable, upgraded Brembo brakes and an aftermarket exhaust system. High-performance summer tyres – incredible grip. You could easily beat Maverick with this, and that man has some serious alterations, I tell you.”

Dumbstruck, Harry couldn’t do much more than nod his head up and down. Every word that rolled off Draco’s tongue was foreign to him since liking cars didn’t particularly mean he suddenly began studying every car part on the market. His Nissan had four wheels and cute headlights, was red, and made that sexy sound when he pressed a pedal. That was enough. He wanted it to look good and feel good, yet he accidentally bought a goddamn beast and felt bad for only wanting to drive it around a couple of times a month.

From what Draco told him, the car has too much history, too much potential to just be a Gary or a Gertrude. It was fast and reliable but could also be dangerous if he became too reckless. Harry swallowed hard, glancing down at the steering wheel. He felt like he’d just been handed the keys to Excalibur without knowing how to swing a sword.

“I guess I should’ve read more about it, then,” he sighed.

“Obviously,” the blonde sneered, “It’s a killer machine. I hope you’ll take good care of it, or we’re breaking up.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t-“

“You know I would,” Draco teased with a wide smirk. His hand tapped on the red metal of the Nissan’s roof, patting it like it just won a race, which it didn’t do (yet), but surviving Harry’s first time behind the wheel was an accomplishment of its own.

Reverse parking was way worse than going forward. It was stressful and hard, and Harry didn’t exactly understand the weird angles he had to consider to get the car into the garage. At one point, he wanted to give up and pull it nose-first, but according to Draco, real men always reverse. Always. No exceptions.

“Why?” Harry was curious as to why such a ridiculous rule existed.

“Because we’re trying to prove you can drive,” his boyfriend simply replied. “It means you’ve mastered control and precision. Everyone knows that.”

Obviously.

He eventually gave up, afraid to scratch the nameless car and hopped out of it, much to Draco’s dissatisfaction, and let him park it himself. And once again, Harry felt like an idiot when the blonde rolled forward to fix the poor position Harry had put the car in and, in one swift motion, reversed the car perfectly into its rightful spot right next to Draco’s silver Viper. He didn’t even have to look in the rearview mirror to do so, it just kind of popped into the right place like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s frustration was now fighting the admiration he felt for the blonde, both making his mind hazy and body hot. When Draco stepped out of the car, the mental battle ended, replaced by nothing more than pure, carnal lust because fuck – Draco had his hair pulled up in a loose bun, Harry’s car keys twirling around his finger, his expression stone-cold like he was oblivious to the fact he’d done something so simple, yet so sexy. Really, the way he just slid into the parking spot easily, effortlessly… Was it weird to find parking so arousing?

“Oh, I know that look,” locking Harry’s car, Draco narrowed his eyes. The crimson red dusting his cheeks stood out against his pale complexion. “What did I do this time?”

“Shut up,” the raven-haired man scoffed and, with slow steps, approached Draco, almost in a trance. There was still a great distance between them, and all Harry wanted to do was to run up to his and press him against the shiny red hood, but found it extremely difficult to move any faster due to the friction in his trousers.

Draco didn't budge, even when Harry was almost upon him. His piercing gaze was challenging Harry to make the next move, watching the struggle. He went so far as to step backwards, now sitting on the bonnet and spreading his legs. His hands between his thighs, leaning forward with the most seductive look Harry had ever seen… That's what did it for him.

Harry kissed Draco fiercely, his lips demanding as he devoured the blonde's, groaning into it when the latter finally let him inside his hot, wet mouth. Draco's fingers dove into the black hair, pulling Harry closer until there was no space left between them, their bodies pressed tightly.

His fingers grabbed at the hem of Harry's shirt and lifted it up over his head in a quick motion, only breaking the kiss to throw the garment aside.

“It’s the parking, isn’t it?” Draco strained out in between the heated kisses, already breathless. Harry nodded. "I knew it." And then he pulled Harry against him again, smashing their lips together, making a deep, needy sound. He didn't care about anything, just Harry's skin touching his own, the taste of his mouth. Before he could realise it, his shirt was on the ground next to Harry’s.

The brunette pulled on his thighs, Draco’s body sliding effortlessly across the polished steel until their hard groins bumped together, a lewd moan escaping Harry’s lips. He grabbed Draco's head and tilted it to the side, exposing the beautiful column of his neck, and attacked it with kisses. He sucked at the flesh, tasting salt, loving the little whimpers coming from Draco, and continued to grind their hips together, hardness against hardness.

“Get down,” Harry’s raspy voice filled Draco’s ear as he pulled away, leaving him feeling cold and abandoned. The blonde did as he was told, a minuscule spark of thrill igniting in his gut. He would never admit it out loud, but he was enjoying being ordered around by Harry. It was usually the other way around, and even though he loved that as well, it was nice to change things once in a while.

Harry gripped his hips with too much force and turned him around. Draco placed his palms flat against the warm bonnet of Harry's Silvia, feeling the brunette's hands slide his jeans off clumsily. Draco shivered, every touch sending shockwaves through his system, like a high-performance engine roaring to life under the perfect balance of throttle and clutch. Harry’s hands slid up his sides, over the sharp angles of his ribs, before settling firmly on his hips again, his grip possessive.

Draco had never been taken like this – exposed and vulnerable but ready to give Harry every inch of his body. He felt the evening breeze brush against his bare skin as he stood there butt-naked, waiting impatiently, wishing Harry wasn’t taking his goddamn time so much and just…

He felt a wet finger enter him. His body reacted almost immediately, clenching around Harry’s digit, not being used to this kind of feeling. Then, a second finger followed, stretching his hole delicately, and oh, God.

“You okay?” Harry whispered dangerously close to Draco’s ear.

“It’s weird,” he confessed with a grimace. But he stood by his statement – it was cold and strange but in a way that made perfect sense, almost like… “It’s like pooping backwards.” Draco’s face flushed as soon as the words left his mouth, his brain catching up too late to stop them. Harry froze for a moment, his forehead dropping to rest on Draco’s shoulder as a low, incredulous laugh escaped him.

“Pooping backwards?” Harry repeated, his voice muffled against Draco’s skin as he tried to stifle his laughter, failing miserably.

“Shut up,” Draco hissed, his ears burning. “It’s a perfectly accurate description, Potter. Don’t pretend it doesn’t make sense.”

Harry pulled back, his green eyes alight with amusement as he pressed a kiss to Draco’s neck. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from hearing you say that.”

Draco bit his lip, stuck somewhere between erupting into fits of giggles or moans, Harry’s fingers still working him open. “I hate you,” he groaned loudly.

Harry’s low voice twisted his insides again, “Liar.” And with that, he pulled his fingers out of Draco’s arse, abandoning his own trousers, pressing the tip of his prick against the tight entrance. “Ready?”

Draco's breath hitched as he felt Harry’s heat against him, his body taut with anticipation. He pressed his forehead against the smooth metal of the bonnet, nodding shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

The blonde shivered, his nerves firing on all cylinders like an engine revving high, caught between excitement and apprehension. He felt his muscles stretch around Harry’s thickness, a silent scream escaping his lips. He cussed out, hands trying to grip something, anything, to steady himself, but the car didn’t provide much to help him. His legs shook, and his knees buckled slightly, the overwhelming sensation coursing through him like a jolt of electricity. Every cell in his body seemed alive, hyperaware of the burn and stretch, yet beneath it all was a simmering pleasure that begged to consume him.

“Breathe, Draco,” said Harry, failing to conceal the smallest hint of laughter in his tone. His hand traced Draco’s spine, his lips curling upon noticing the goosebumps on the pale skin. He reached for Draco’s hair tie and let the platinum locks fall onto his shoulders, running his fingers through them. He tugged gently, pulling Draco’s head back just enough to expose the elegant curve of his neck. “God, you’re beautiful,” Harry whispered, his lips brushing against Draco’s ear before trailing down the side of his neck, leaving a path of light, lingering kisses. His chest was hot against Draco’s back, his free hand drawing small, comforting shapes on his hip bone as he finally slid his whole length into the blonde’s arse.

He began moving his hips slowly and carefully, throwing his head back at the hot pleasure shooting through his body.

Draco’s voice trembled as he let a few silent cries slip off his tongue, his back instinctively arching into Harry’s moving pelvis. Harry's pace remained slow, steady, each thrust deliberate. He could feel Draco’s muscles tightening, his body fighting to keep control while still opening up to him in ways that made Harry feel closer to him than ever before.

The pressure inside him was unbearable, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to push harder, not when he was so afraid of breaking something delicate. Being scared to hurt him, he waited for any sign of signal that could show him Draco was ready for more. Draco, still panting and shaking beneath him, managed a quiet plea, finding it hard to form full sentences. He lowered himself onto his elbows, feeling much more stable that way.

Harry pulled back, then slammed his cock into Draco at last. Then, he did it again, and again, and again, until he heard Draco’s screams echo off the white tiles of the garage doors. He gritted his teeth, moving into Draco at a faster pace, giving out everything he had to offer.

Thinking about Ginny at a moment such as this was strange, unwelcome even, but it didn’t stop his brain from going crazy at how different she felt from her current boyfriend. With Ginny, everything had been familiar, safe, predictable. She had fit into his life like a childhood memory, warm and easy to hold onto but never quite enough to set his blood on fire.

Draco was different.

Everything about him was sharp, untamed, electric. He was a live wire pressed against Harry’s skin, igniting something in him that had never been there before. Where Ginny had been soft, Draco was demanding. Where she had given, Draco took – and gave back twice as much, unafraid to meet Harry at his most intense.

With Ginny, there had been affection, comfort, a path already mapped out. But with Draco, there was a raw need, the thrilling unknown, and a love that tasted like burnt rubber and gasoline on the tip of his tongue.

Every time Draco pressed back, Harry mewled a series of curses, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His hipbones against the firm, but at the same time soft, buttocks kept driving him mad, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into this void of insanity he couldn’t escape from. His body was on autopilot, lost to the sensation, pounding hard and briskly, doing his best to keep the shaky blonde steady. Draco’s knees hit the bumper repeatedly, disgracing the milky skin with purple and red bruises that were sure to hurt the following day, but the pain never came. Instead, there was only pleasure as Draco arched his back and bit his lip until the point of swelling.

Draco’s breath came in ragged gasps, each exhale shaky as Harry moved inside him. “Potter...” his voice trembled, barely a whisper, but it was enough. Enough for Harry to know that Draco was just as lost in this as he was. “Fuck, Potter.”

His last name, the name Draco spit so much venom into when they were younger, was now a beautiful melody, bringing Harry closer to the much-expected and unwanted orgasm. He wanted to make it last forever – him fucking Draco’s arse like his life depended on it, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. He wanted to give Draco everything, show him how much he meant to him, all the love, all the affection, the mutual understanding, and much more.

Draco was his past, present, and future, and for fuck’s sake, Harry didn’t know how he was able to survive and breathe without Draco by his side. His moans were getting louder, deafening even, and it encouraged Harry to keep going, fast and rough, for the one and only thing his heart desired.

But Draco was close, clenching around Harry’s prick. “Potter,” he cried again, a lewd sound that, in a second, crumbled every one of Harry’s plans on shagging him any longer.

The pair came at the same time, like they always did, a perfect harmony of heavy breaths and more name-calling than necessary. Harry rode out his climax, then pulled out, immediately seeking support against the shell of his car. He pulled Draco to his chest and ran his fingers through his lush hair, a short kiss to his damp forehead.

They shared a smile, warm and beautiful, while the string of white spunk sparkled against the red metal of his car. And Harry found out then and there why shagging Draco against his own car would be his favourite activity ever.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The Hogwarts hallways were loud with students chatting away, exchanging their plans for the summer, some of them already shedding tears of longing. The school was always busy with children at this time of the year, each one of them louder than they were just days ago before they had finished all of their exams. The teachers celebrated, too, all of them already tipsy (or, in Hagrid’s case, straight-up drunk) in the comfort of the Three Broomsticks. Normally, Harry would be in the centre of them, raising his pint high in the air, toasting to another year he managed to survive, even though Voldemort was no longer a threat to him. Still, Hogwarts was marked with the ghost of the war, reminding him of how lucky he was to have lived and, far worse, how many innocent wizards could be saved if he was maybe a tad bit faster in defeating the villain.

This year, Harry was celebrating something else in the comfort of his chambers. “What the fuck am I even supposed to pack?” he groaned, running his hand through his curls.

Ron, who was sprawled on Harry’s bed, buried beneath all the clothes the brunette pulled from his cupboard, scoffed loudly, “I still can’t believe you agreed… I mean, travelling Europe sounds fun and all, but are you sure you’ll be able to stay by Malfoy’s side for six weeks straight?”

“Ron,” Harry growled at his friend.

“What? Just because I’m not cross with him doesn’t mean I like him,” the ginger’s eyes turned to the roof, his lip curling into a small smirk. He picked up a black shirt and threw it at Harry, who caught it with one hand and looked at it with a narrowed gaze.

“This will do, thanks,” he nodded and folded it neatly into his trunk, which was close to empty. Merlin, what do people pack for trips this long? He didn’t really want to overpack, but the thought of not having enough scared him more.

“Calm down, Harry,” Ron said, “It’s not like you’re visiting a tropical island. Just pack whatever. It’ll be fine.”

Harry threw his body down next to Ron, groaning as a hard belt buckle dug into his back. “I don’t know, Ron,” he pressed his palms into his cheeks, fingers slipping under his glasses to rub his eyes. “I mean, Italy? Monaco? The Czech Republic? Seems like a big deal.”

“What’s a Czech Republic?”

“Exactly my point!” Harry groaned into his hands. “Like, is it cold? Is it warm? Do I have to take my fluffy socks?”

“Whatever you do, just not the socks, mate,” Ron choked out a laugh and tossed another decent-looking piece of clothing Harry’s way.

The brunette’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe, “How dare you hate on my socks?”

“Are you joking? They’re horrible!” Ron rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that day, shaking his head with a grin.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Harry looked at him disapprovingly, stood up, and opened one of his drawers, pulling out the horrible knitted socks Ginny gave him for Christmas two years ago. It was her first time knitting, and it turned out terribly, but Harry liked them regardless. They were warm and cute and probably the only reminder that she still cared for him, even after splitting up. He waved them around to tick Ron off, then confidently threw them into his luggage.

“Yeah, now you really have something to worry about,” the ginger snickered, “Just wait until Malfoy sees them.”

“He’ll love them. He’s way more fashionable than you are,” Harry crossed his hands on his chest, fighting a big smile.

Ron’s mouth hung agape, “That guy wears dirty sweatpants on the daily, Harry.”

“Yes, when he’s working. Do you actually think the Draco Malfoy can’t dress nicely anymore? He was the school’s fashion icon!” frowning, Harry shook his head. “Just so you know, he took me out for dinner last week, and-”

“Let me guess,” Ron held up a hand to interrupt him and thought for a moment, “Black trousers, white shirt with a black waistcoat, probably an expensive belt, about three hundred rings, what else… Oh, leather boots! Hair slicked back and all that.”

Harry blinked at Ron, momentarily taken aback. “Well, I mean, not exactly,” he said, a little caught off guard by how close Ron had come to the truth. “But yeah, pretty much.”

“And let me guess… You found it so hot you had sex in the backseat of his car,” Ron scrunched his nose, but the smirk remained present on his lips.

“His car doesn’t have a backseat, Ron.”

“Whatever. Now pack your shit,” he shook his head and sat up, digging through the growing pile of clothes. “Pack at least two hoodies to be safe. And an extra pair of underwear. Oh, and never forget spare trousers if you spill your drink or something. And sunscreen. And diapers, just in case.”

Harry blinked at him, shocked, “Wow, fatherhood is taking its toll on you.” He reached into his cupboard and pulled a few pieces of clothing out, checking them out before folding and dropping them into his trunk. It’s not like he owned that much – he was sure his room would be mostly empty when he’d finished packing. He might as well shrink the whole wardrobe and stuff it in his pocket.

He sighed, making a mental map in his mind of all the places he was visiting this summer – Germany, the Netherlands, Monaco, Italy, and then finally the Czech Republic, wherever that was. It sounded exhausting, but he was excited to go with Draco. After all, in September, he wouldn’t be able to see him as much anymore, and he wanted to make the most of it. Of course, for Draco, this was a business trip. Harry had to remind himself that because even though he loved seeing the blonde race, he’d much rather spend the day on a beach, bathing in the Mediterranean Sea or sightseeing in Cologne.

Sure, he’d have Draco for himself most days, but somehow, it didn’t seem like enough. It would probably never be enough, now that he thought about it. He couldn’t even rely on fucking Javier to keep him company since he was racing, too.

“Do you think you’d be able to smuggle me some of that weed?” Ron broke the silence, looking at Harry with pleading eyes.

Harry paused, turning to look at the red-head with a raised eyebrow. "Are you serious?" he asked, but the teasing glint in his eyes gave him away. Ron grinned, leaning back against the mountain of clothes he'd made on Harry’s bed.

"I mean, come on, it’s the Netherlands, mate. It’d be rude not to," Ron said with a wink.

“Just visit for a day or two,” Harry shook his head with a chuckle, “I’m sure Draco and Javi wouldn’t mind as long as you bring Ginny.”

“I am not getting high with my sister,” the ginger said sternly, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. “I don’t want to make her rotten.”

“She’s a Harpie, Ron. She can’t get much worse.”

“Oh, like you’re much better. I give you one day in Monaco before you become a gambling addict,” Ron sneered and stood up from Harry’s bed abruptly, walking over to a small chest where Harry stored his deck of cards. “See? You’re basically halfway there. Next thing you know, you’re poor and homeless.”

 “My boyfriend’s rich, though” Harry smirked and snatched the cards out of his friend’s hand, tossing them next to his folded clothes. They might come in handy. “Besides, all I want to do in Monaco is drive around.”

“Right, like a month ago, when you couldn’t even start the car?” Ron teased.

“Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice since then,” Harry raised his arms in defence, “In fact, Draco’s teaching me how to drift now.”

“No way, show me,” Ron’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the challenge.

And just like that, Harry and Ron Apparated in Draco’s garage, where the beautiful Nissan Silvia was parked. Ron made some snarky comments about thinking it was unfair for McGonagall to give Harry permission to Apparate in and out of Hogwarts, but seeing as he was the one to ensure that the school was still standing, somewhere in the depths of his mind, Ron saw why she would allow him.

It was the middle of the day, and the blonde usually had his lunch at this hour, so Harry wasn’t really surprised to find it empty. The garage looked almost wrong without the silver Viper, but Harry was somehow glad his boyfriend wasn’t around – his drifting skills were nowhere near perfect, and Draco always teased him about it. It was enough to impress Ron, though, so he unlocked his car and waited for Ron to climb into the passenger seat.

The rumble of his engine echoed through the empty room as he rolled out of it, gripping his steering wheel tightly. He took a deep breath, feeling the tiniest pang of nervousness. He had never done this without Draco by his side, but how different could it be?

The car rolled into motion as Harry did a few laps around the area to get a feel for the space. He sped up, his entire focus on the asphalt road ahead of him. “There’s a chance I might kill you, I hope you know that,” he informed the man sitting next to him. “But we should be fine,” he said more to himself than to Ron, his car gaining speed.

The tyres screeched loudly as soon as Harry flicked his wrist, sending the red Silvia into a sharp turn. The car spun around as Harry kept it in control, countersteering in order not to lose the pretty successful drift he managed to pull off. The sound of the tyres gripping, then slipping, then gripping again was music to his ears.

Feeling a bit more relaxed, he slid into another drift, this one near flawless. The surrounding garages became a blur, and all he could see was the imaginary point he was spinning around. His system flushed with adrenaline, a big grin now reaching his mouth. He steadied his car and sped up in a straight line towards a lamppost he usually practised donuts around.

Harry’s foot was steady on the throttle as he guided his car around the huge pole. The car spun in perfect, tight circles, the Silvia dancing around it like it was weightless. It was amazing – the excitement, the speed, the control… Merlin, this was way more fun than Harry had ever expected it to be. Harry laughed out loud as he loosened his grip on the wheel, letting the car spin out. Draco would lose his shit if he saw it. He specifically told Harry not to do this since it was dangerous and so unprofessional, but he wasn’t here now, was he? 

The car halted to a stop, and Harry inhaled the smell of burnt rubber and petroleum. His grin was wild and uncontrollable.

“Bloody hell,” Ron breathed out, and Harry swore he forgot about his existence for a whole minute, “I take it back. You’re brilliant.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled and shook the tightness out of his fingers. “Want more?”

“Hell yeah.”

The Silvia shot from its spot once again, and after being satisfied with the speed, Harry pulled it into another drift. He felt the read end kick out in perfect sync with the way he turned his steering wheel, a satisfied smile on his lips. He was in the zone now, fully immersed in the rhythm of the car, the track, the excitement.

He decided to take a wider turn this time, driving almost sideways, listening to Ron’s excited screams as he did a full circle around the garage area in one big drift. It was awesome, and he felt like he could do this all day. Not even Quidditch could compare to the feeling of his wheels gripping the asphalt, and no amount of magic could ever make his blood boil this way. It was addictive.

On his final turn, Harry pushed the button on his handbrake, pulling on it lightly but carefully enough so it didn’t lock on him, just as Draco had taught him. The back wheels locked momentarily, sending the Silvia into a sharper glide. The vehicle whipped around gracefully, then stopped as Harry pressed on the break and shifter into neutral. He ignored Ron’s cheers and praises and let out a breath of relief. He felt proud and happy, so he closed his eyes and let his head fall onto the steering wheel, breathing in the scent of leather and sweat.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, “This is awesome.”

“Yeah!” Ron beamed and unbuckled his seatbelt, jumping out of the car. “I’ve seen you defeat Dark wizards, but that was nothing compared to this, Harry.”

“I know,” he nodded, still resting his head against the wheel. Now that the show was over, he felt almost empty. He was way too familiar with the feeling – he’d felt it a million times before. Like nothing even mattered, like he was just passing by, not really living his life to the fullest. He was lost and confused, stuck in one place, unsure where to go next.

It was as if a new world opened to him whenever he took a seat in his powerful Nissan, but he couldn’t really step into it. He had a life back at Hogwarts. He loved teaching children. He loved their excited faces when they cast a newly learned spell, loved the way most of them tried so hard, loved their cheerful chatter and their youthful energy, but… It was their happiness he enjoyed. This – Draco, races, drifting, modded cars – was his source of joy. It filled him with the same kind of fire he felt back during the war when he was way younger and full of life. When his days were unpredictable and far from this boring routine he had created over the years of teaching.

Harry was twenty-four and had a stable, serious job in a world that was entirely different from this one. He had money, he had a home, he had tons and tons of kids relying on him, and he had too many expectations to live up to. But now, sitting in his Nissan Silvia, he wasn’t Professor Potter. He wasn’t the saviour of the Wizarding World nor the Boy Who Lived. He was just Harry, as he had always wanted.

His fingers brushed the gear stick almost absentmindedly. He knew he couldn’t stay in here forever. Eventually, he’d have to go back to Hogwarts, back to lesson plans and classroom antics. He ran a hand through his dark hair, glancing at Ron, who was now inspecting the car with an impressed grin on his face. Ron didn’t get it. He never would. To him, this was just a thrill, a bit of fun. For Harry, it was something deeper – freedom, rebellion, escape.

And then there was Draco, Harry’s missing puzzle piece. He was kind and funny and so gorgeous, and basically everything Harry had ever been searching for in a partner. Draco showed him what living truly felt like when he’d already forgotten it and made him realise that even though he was an adult, he could still have fun. He brought Harry all the things he’d never gotten to experience as a child due to the Dursleys and Dumbledore. He took him on fine dates, let him eat as much as he wanted, always came up with something exciting so the brunette would never get bored, cuddled him to sleep, and made him feel like he was truly cared for.

An unexpected roar of a powerful engine made both Ron and Harry jump. He had to glance down to ensure that none of his two feet were pressing on the pedal. He looked around, confused, locking eyes with the shrugging Ron, who looked as startled as he did. He quickly turned the ignition off and climbed out of his car to look around, and then he saw it.

Like an angel descending from heaven, Draco’s silver Dodge Viper reflected the rays of the angry sun, blinding him. He came at the rightest time possible, almost as if he sensed Harry’s sadness and despair. The car pulled up next to the pair, and Harry was awestruck when Draco stepped out of it, looking as elegant as ever (when he wasn’t covered in motor oil, of course), a warm smile on his face.

“What the hell are these skid marks, Potter?” Draco’s voice broke through his haze, and Harry couldn’t help but grin a little at his teasing. “I’m surprised Weasley’s still alive. Looks like you had way too much fun.”

“Oh, you know,” Harry shrugged, watching Draco shake Ron’s hand like they were lifelong friends. “I didn’t have an annoying bitch ordering me around.” He gave Draco a short side hug, smirking as his silver eyes widened in mock shock. Leaning against his car, he took a moment to admire how the blonde looked in the sunlight – he was almost glowing, so beautiful and ethereal, a diamond in flashing lights.

The blonde turned to Ron with scrunched eyebrows, “Was he holding his wheel the whole time?”

“N-“ Ron started, but Harry glared at him and shook his head with gritted teeth, he smiled sheepishly, “Yes. All the time. We definitely didn’t spin like crazy, not once. Not us.”

Draco inhaled sharply, his eyes closed. “What did I tell you about spinning out, Harry?”

“That it’s unprofessional?”

“That you can hurt yourself, you idiot,” the blonde’s body was tense as he stared deep into Harry’s soul, the same way Molly always did when he and Ron did something stupid when they were younger.

Ron, sensing the tension but not fully understanding the dynamic, let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, Harry’s pretty good behind the wheel…” However, his attempt to save the situation was highly unsuccessful.

“That’s not the point, Weasley,” Draco groaned, hands steady on his hips as he looked Harry up and down. “Cars are not broomsticks, Harry; they can fucking explode if you crash. You’re not invincible just because you’ve survived a few near-death situations before.”

Harry shifted his stance, feeling awkward being scolded like a toddler right before his best friend. Usually, the two were used to getting yelled at together, so there wasn't a single bit of embarrassment, but now that Ron was standing a few feet from him and Draco, a wide smirk on his freckled face, he could die of shame. Now, he had never been grounded before (only straight up locked in his room) and never had a mother to tell him off, but he could imagine this was how it felt like. And Merlin, was it a horrible feeling. He muttered a faint ‘sorry’, looking down at his red high-tops with cheeks tinted red and hands intertwined in his lap.

Draco’s expression softened into a smile as he tilted Harry’s head to meet his eyes, “Hey, it’s okay, but be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Germany was way warmer than England, and Harry thanked Ron for all the fatherly packing tips he gave him. He now understood why all the extra socks and shirts were necessary. He had already wasted two, both soaked in stinky sweat. Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his palm, fingers tracing the lightning bolt scar, and stared at the leaflet in his hand. Nürburgring… How do you even pronounce that? No matter how hard he tried, it still sounded weird. Several heads were turned towards him as he kept repeating the word in whispers.

Nürburgring.

Nürburgring…

Nope, still weird.

He sighed and took a swig of his disgustingly warm beer. He’d been sitting there for the past thirty minutes, alone and bored, while Draco and Javier were getting ready to race this strange circuit with an even stranger name, listening to people talk in a completely foreign language, and he couldn’t wait for the moment he’d be able to see or hear a car. At this point, any car would do… even Ryan’s.

He groaned and leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, breathing in the signature scent of a racetrack – rubber and petrol. It was probably the only thing that kept him from losing his mind, a little hint of familiarity in a setting so alien.

Harry hated feeling out of place. To the Dursleys, he was a complete stranger, and even after years of living in their house, they’d never warmed up to him. He felt like that again the first time he visited Diagon Alley, when he knew next to nothing about magic. A fool next to the well-educated and noble Draco Malfoy, his first contact with the wizarding world and all of its wonders. Then, he was supposed to save the world without knowing what the fuck he was supposed to do. His Auror training was no exception. He was surrounded by ambitious wizards aiming to help others while he was doing what was expected from him, with no motivation whatsoever. He felt like an impostor, like someone who didn’t even deserve to be there since he’d already grown tired of being the one to take care of people who didn’t take care of him back. Hogwarts had always been his home. Up until recently, that is.

Harry cursed under his breath and took another gross gulp, wincing as the lukewarm liquid filled his mouth. Soon, really soon, the beer would be gone, and he’d be able to throw the scarily thin plastic cup away.

The happy chatter from the crowd around grew quiet, and he heard a loud voice through the loud speakers. He could only guess the race was about to begin.

Harry’s attention shifted from his cup to the track, where, finally, cars started to roll. A smile crept up to his face, his eyes scanning Draco and Javier’s competition. He recognised a lot more cars now, being suddenly so interested in the topic. He could see some classics – a Mazda RX-7 (his Nissan’s main competitor when he was searching for a car), a brand new Porsche Carrera (a vehicle he hated with every inch of his being for no reason whatsoever), a couple of BMWs, the usual Supra and a Nissan Skyline. Javier’s Lancer could easily go unnoticed.

Then, with a throaty growl, Draco’s Viper rolled to the starting line, once again being the most adored car on the track. Harry knew The Serpent was known worldwide, though he didn’t expect people to be this invested in him. It was honestly crazy – thousands of people from a country hundreds of miles away from his own cheering for a faceless person they didn’t know the real name of, all of them clapping and screaming. It was even crazier when one realised Draco Malfoy, his former bully and an ex-Death Eater, his bloody boyfriend, had that effect on people.

Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, now fully invested in whatever was about to unravel in front of his eyes. From the looks of it, Draco had a fair chance of winning. There was only one car that was stronger than his Viper, but he was sure the blonde wouldn’t be caught losing against a neon green Dodge Charger merely because of the colour. While Draco loved green, he despised neon colours. They were flashy and, in his words, the most revolting thing to ever be created. Anything neon was bad and to be stayed away from. No exceptions.

The announcer’s voice rang out, rapid-fire German that Harry only vaguely understood, but he caught the excitement in the tone, the way the crowd responded with cheers and whistles. Even without translating, he knew the buildup to the race was nearly over. He glanced at the raised checkered flag, then at the light that shone brightly against the sun.

Red.

He breathed in.

Red.

Fuck, why was he nervous?

Red.

Green.

The roar of engines shattered the air, a symphony of power and precision, and Harry barely had time to process it before the cars shot forward, tyres screaming against the asphalt. His eyes instinctively followed Draco’s Viper as it surged ahead, weaving seamlessly between competitors, controlled chaos in motion.

Javier’s Lancer wasn’t far behind, aggressive in its approach. But it was the rest of the field that made Harry’s stomach twist. The Mazda was holding steady, the Supra right there with it, and that bloody Porsche – the fucking Porsche – was gaining ground fast. It quickly took its lead alongside Draco and the old Charger, almost taunting Harry with every turn it took. It was fast and sharp, and Harry hated it.

In order not to lose his shit, he downed the warm beer and grimaced, entertaining himself with the cup for a brief moment before glancing back at the race. Still the same. The Porsche’s driver, for sure, wasn’t going easy on Draco, his engine whining in protest as he tried overtaking him a few times, not once succeeding.

“Come on, Draco,” he whispered to himself, eyes drafting between the three leading cars. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, his throat started closing up. And then, they disappeared out of Harry’s field of vision.

Great. Just great.

He was stressed out enough; there was no reason to make it this much worse. Just imagine what could happen to Draco during the time Harry couldn’t see him! What if he crashed? It was unlikely, but still… What if? Harry would be one of the last to know. What if… What if…?

Minutes passed, and Harry was shaking in anticipation. He could only hear the incredible Viper along with its competitors, yet he had no idea what was going on. He wished he could understand German for at least a day so he could figure out what the loud and overly enthusiastic commentator was talking about. Unfortunately, he was left in the dark for a while longer.

Then, Draco emerged from behind a sharp turn long before the others. Harry jumped to his feet and cheered loudly, instant relief washing over every negative thought he had. Draco could win this. No, Draco will win this. The Viper moved elegantly yet powerfully over the asphalt, the light summer breeze working in its favour, pushing it forward.

And it was sexy as fuck.

He could only imagine the laid-back look on Draco’s face, his hand barely holding onto the steering wheel unless he really needed to. He always leaned back in his seat, his foot steady on the throttle. His veiny hands shifting into a lower gear when he wanted to accelerate sharply, the adorable head tilt Draco did every once in a while when he checked his rearview mirror. Draco was a shining star on the track, owning it with little to no effort now that the Porsche gave up.

The Charger was still a threat to his glory, though, but Harry wasn’t worried about it. Even though it was trailing the silver car, it looked tired, and it was only a matter of time before it broke down. It was old, after all, and no matter how much it tried and how well it performed when the race started, it couldn’t outrun Draco. If it was a drag race, then sure, there would be a possibility.

But not now.

Not in a world where Draco was king.

His car disappeared once again. Just two more laps…

And then, when Draco was on his final lap, Harry was already out of his seat, skipping down the iron stairs at a dangerous pace. It was obvious he had won already. There was no way a sodding Porsche would even catch up to him. It even fell behind Javier, who was about to end second.

Harry skipped past the broken-down Charger, steam coming from under its bonnet, just like he predicted. He tried hard to push down the smirk that was already tickling his lips, fighting to get through the crowd. He showed the two huge security cars his VIP badge, and when they nodded nonchalantly, he sprinted towards the barrier near the track. Just in time to see Draco cross the finish line.

Harry’s ears managed to tone out the explosion of woohoos and bravos from the crowd, grinning so hard his cheeks started to cramp up. The victorious Dodge Viper slowed down, and Draco jumped out of it excitedly, his hands in fists, punching the air in a celebratory gesture. Even through the black helmet, Harry could tell Draco was smiling widely, basking in the adoration and jubilant with exhilaration. His entire body radiated triumph, the rush of victory coursing through his veins like wildfire. The crowd’s roaring applause only fuelled his euphoria, the electric thrill of the race still humming in the air.

It was a beautiful sight. Draco was glowing in the vortex of praise and elation, and Harry was once again reminded of how right it felt to see him like this. The blonde was born for this. Screw magic, screw every pure-blood nonsense he grew up with – this, here, was his calling. This was where he belonged; this was where he thrived. Draco deserved every single admiring glance, every applause, every good word spoken about him. He was great, and the Muggle world knew it.

After fifteen minutes, the couple reunited in the Nürburgring garages, Harry attacking Draco with butterfly kisses, Draco laughing soundly. “Amazing,” Harry said for the nth time, “You’re amazing.”

Draco grinned, pulling Harry into a tight hug, his laughter still echoing in the noise-filled garage. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure of this one,” he admitted, blushing either from the affection he was receiving or his slightly humiliating confession. His hand closer around Harry’s wrist, thumb grazing over the soft skin.

“What?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t stare at me like that. I almost flew off the track once,” he shook his head and reached for his sweat-damp hair to let it air out a bit.

The brunette’s heart banged against his chest, “What?!”

Harry had heard the terrifying stories of the Flugplatz, the notorious stretch of track that had claimed many a racer’s pride – and sometimes their lives. It was the most dangerous part, where cars literally flew (hence the name) off a small hill that wouldn’t usually hurt a fly, but with the speed at which the cars rolled, it could be risky. It was just out of Harry’s sight when he sat down, for which he was thankful because the moment he would see Draco in the air, he’d swarm the place with cushioning spells and reveal the secrets of the Wizarding World.

“Relax, Potter, I’m right here,” the blonde stroked along Harry’s forearm, pressing a kiss into the palm that was cupping his cheeks. “Come on, let’s grab a beer or something. I’m knackered.”

“Can I drive?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. By the look on Draco’s face, he figured it wasn’t the best question to let out so casually. People had their arms broken in the past after touching the legendary Viper, and yes, Harry did stain it with sweat and spunk once or twice, but other than that, he had never come close to sitting in the driver’s seat when the engine was running. It was partly unfair, now that he thought about it – Draco drove his Silvia at the regular. Even when he was a passenger, he often reached for the shifter when he saw Harry press the clutch – which was adorable, by the way… just two dudes driving together – and shifted gears for him.

On the other hand, Harry understood this overprotectiveness. It was a great car – powerful, beautiful, its name already written in history right next to Draco’s, and it would be a tragedy if something happened to it.

Draco blinked, then burst into loud laughter once again, “You don’t need to ask that, Harry. Of course, you can!”

“Really? I thought-”

“Oh, come on,” the blonde snickered, “I trust you. You drive your car like you’ve got a damn sixth sense for it.”

“What? But I could barely move a month ago,” Harry sneered, his excitement washing away. Even though he dreamed of the day he would take the Viper for a spin, he was suddenly nervous.

“Yeah, which makes you even more impressive,” Draco smiled warmly, “Besides, your car has a stiff clutch. The previous owner must’ve changed it, didn’t I tell you? – I did? – See? You’re good, then.”

Excited, Harry opened the door of Draco’s Viper, breathing in the scent of leather. He happily plumped down onto the driver’s seat and audibly gasped. How come his seats weren’t this comfortable? It felt like sitting on clouds or swimming through honey. Like heaven. Harry could only imagine what driving his Silvia with his arse buried deep in cushions as cosy as these would feel like. It must be wonderful. He leaned into the leather and put the keys in the ignition.

The engine rose to life under Harry’s touch, wild and untamed, loud enough to send his heart leaping out of his chest. The car shook, a different shake than his Nissan does – powerful and intimidating. Still, it was enough for his blood flow to go crazy and his head start to spin. Smug and excited, Draco slid next to Harry, feeling weird from sitting in the passenger seat of his car for the first time in his life. The whole interior looked different from this angle. More inviting. Almost like he wasn’t sitting in a killer machine. He made a mental note to make Harry’s side of the car a bit more… more, so it wouldn’t be as boring anymore.

Behind the wheel, Harry was overwhelmed by the amount of buttons and green lights shining from the dashboard. It couldn’t outweigh the thrill of it, though, no matter how hard it tried. A mesmerising array of controls, a mix of American muscle car charm and pure, unfiltered performance engineering. The black leather stretched sleekly across the dash, interrupted only by the polished silver accents that framed the instrument cluster. A deep green glow illuminated the gauges – speedometer, tachometer, oil pressure, temperature – all of them round and analogue, a stark contrast to the digital displays found in modern cars. The needles twitched eagerly, ready to climb the moment, and Harry gave in to temptation.

Draco’s car was so different from Harry’s red Silvia. The clutch was much softer under his foot, both the accelerator and the brake sensitive to every movement of his foot. He took off with more speed than he intended to, but that didn’t stop him from rolling out of the garage with pride all over his features. He caught sight of Javier smirking into a big camera, a microphone uncomfortably close to his lips, and couldn’t help but rev the engine for the American to notice him. If there was something he knew about Javier, it was how much he enjoyed all the interviews that followed after a race, unlike Draco. The blonde rarely gave any, thinking it would damage his mysterious image and expose his real face and name to the whole world. And if someone from the Wizarding World took notice, his life would be over. Not Javier’s, though. He was a stranger to the realm of magic and for sure wasn’t a convicted felon, so he only twisted and turned in self-importance.

His head snapped to the general direction of the hum of the engine he knew so well, fully expecting Draco to be the one waving him over. His eyes widened, mouth fell agape shortly, and he had to excuse himself for a brief second to do a double-check. But Harry was still behind the wheel, his blonde boyfriend leaning comfortably into the seat next to him. He thought Draco had gone completely bonkers, shaking his head in disbelief, though his surprise was cut short when Harry zoomed out of sight, a trail of green smoke behind him.

With the windows down, wind in his hair, and the faint tunes of a burned Thin Lizzy CD, Harry completely forgot about all the stress he felt just thirty minutes ago. He was free, careless, hand gripping the expensive quick release. Driving through the unknown German city was almost surreal – he’d never visited, of course, yet on the road, he felt native to the strange town. He only knew the directions to and from the apartment they were staying in for the week, but he was sure he’d find his way around. Somehow, even though everything was weird and foreign, the streets stayed the same. At least from the sentimental point of view – he was still getting used to driving on the opposite side of the road.

“Potter,” Draco’s voice rang in Harry’s head, “If you turn left over there, we’d be able to get on the Autobahn.”

“The what?” Harry frowned, head turning towards Draco, but eyes staying locked on the car in front of him in order not to accidentally crash.

As soon as the words ‘no speed limit’ reached his ears, he immediately understood why Draco wanted to take the longer route instead of the one they took that morning. He smirked, sudden confidence emerging from under his skin, and with a flick of his wrist (and a lot of caution and looking around), Harry slid the silver car into a sharp turn. Drifting on the Viper was much more difficult than it was on his lovely Nissan, mainly because Draco’s build was focused on racing and performing. Meanwhile, whoever put his hands on the Silvia had only one thought in their mind – to make the bloody thing a ballerina.

Once the heavy trunk straightened out, Harry pressed on the accelerator and watched the road ahead of him slowly open, wider and wider. The Autobahn was mere metres before him, so tempting and so free. The asphalt, the four lanes, the simple thought of driving however fast he wanted.

Draco smirked at how his car devoured the road under Harry’s touch, eating up the miles like they were only breadcrumbs. With each push on the throttle, Harry became more and more relaxed, leaning back in his seat, even taking one hand off the steering wheel to rest on his thigh, fingers drumming mindlessly to the rhythm of rock. The wind tangled through his messy hair, catching in the strands like it was trying to hold him back, but nothing could. Harry was fast and fearless, eyes suddenly not wide and cautious but half-lidded and carefree. He owned the road, heck, he might’ve owned the entire world for all Draco knew.

The Viper sliced through the Autobahn like a butter knife, fast and steady.

Harry’s features were sharp against the smear of movement Draco could see through the tinted window. The trees flickered, disappeared, the cars failed to catch up, and Harry was right there, crystal clear, lips parted slightly in the ghost of a smirk. Eyes alive, long fingers still drumming that goddamn beat, face so calm and relaxed.

The sound of the engine spreading through the outside world, Harry’s soft hums, Draco’s heavy breaths.

Vibrations, speed, thrill.

Arousal, so much arousal, because the way Harry Potter looked driving Draco’s car must’ve been a crime against every law of nature. It didn’t take long for the unbearable need to reach his trousers. Tension in Draco’s jaw, he sighed, sliding his hands under his thighs to suppress the want to touch Harry’s exposed forearms. They were teasing him, golden and shimmery in the sunlight, begging to be held and gripped and bitten.

Harry turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Draco through those dark lashes, and Draco swallowed down the sharp heat curling in his stomach. “Hey,” the brunette said, voice near a whisper. “You okay?”

No, Draco was far from okay. Because there were only so many things a man could take, and watching Harry behind the wheel of his own car, looking like sin itself, was about to be his undoing. The speedometer climbed. The world blurred faster, and all the blonde wanted to do was to rip Harry out of the driver’s seat, slam him against the hood, and kiss him stupid.

“Take the next exit,” he strained out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to-”

“Take. The next. Exit,”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The third day of their German holiday was supposed to be exciting. They had big plans to go see some sights, take a romantic boat ride on the Rhine, eat Currywurst and have a race on the Autobahn (which was now Harry’s favourite part of the trip). Javier, however, made it impossible to do so by showing up the previous day, an angry storm that barged into Harry and Draco’s room at half-eight, screaming and throwing hands. The two had long forgotten the promised beers, even the dinner they were supposed to get with the American, and spent the whole afternoon glued to each other.

Draco had Harry in the shower first, but when they ran out of hot water, they needed to relocate. Then, Harry shamelessly dropped to his knees. Draco had Harry on the bed, the sofa, and even the kitchen counter before finally being interrupted by no other than Javier himself. He was left waiting in the pub for hours, so as revenge, he bought them a bottle of Jägermeister. It was ingenious, really – they ruined his night, so he was going to ruin their following day.

Harry’s head was throbbing as soon as he opened his eyes. He woke up draped over an armchair, legs hooked over the backrest, head hanging upside down near the floor. He blinked, then panicked, and with a loud thud, fell to the floor. How he fell asleep that way, he’ll never know. He looked around, squinting, trying to piece out what exactly had happened the night before, but to no avail.

He was still lost.

Harry shook his aching head and moved his tired feet in the direction of the bedroom slowly so as not to lose his balance, which was harder to do now than ever before. Seriously, why did he agree to drink that… that… glue? The last time he was in contact with Jägermeister, he was nineteen, drowning out his post-war sorrows in a Muggle pub with a war veteran. He apparently spent the night running around London barefoot, insisting he was on a “covert Auror mission” while Ron and Hermione trailed behind him, trying to wrangle him into a cab. That experience should’ve been enough to warn him off for life, and yet, here he was, suffering the consequences of his terrible decisions once again.

He groaned and pushed the bedroom door open. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one not friendly with the herbal liqueur. Draco and Javier were cuddled up in a tight ball, both shirtless. Loud snores resonated through the room, their main source of sound being Draco. If his school self saw or heard him right now, he’d probably say something along the lines of ‘How utterly undignified’ before hexing himself into oblivion. One of Javier’s legs twitched, the one draped over Draco’s midriff, and he ground his teeth together, making Harry wince at the sound. They looked ridiculous.

Harry also had to open the window – the room stank. He knew the smell all too well, the one when that lingered after a night of heavy drinking, a mix of stale alcohol, sweat, and bad decisions clinging to the air like a regrettable memory. It reminded him of the first three years after the war when he was an insufferable drunk and spent the night drowning one shot after another every time Ginny was awake for work. Mind you, that was most of the time.

He took one more look at Draco and Javier before digging through the apartment to find some painkillers and filled not two, but three glasses of water. One for his beloved boyfriend, one for his Muggle friend, and one simply for…

Harry stood over Draco and Javier with a devilish grin, the cold glass in his hand. He knew they would probably try to kill him in the next… five? Ten? … minutes, but that didn’t stop him from tipping the glass over and splashing the lot with the icy liquid.

“What the…?” hissed Javier, his body jerking up, kicking Draco hard in his stomach in the meantime.

The blonde in question squealed like a little girl, the same way as every time Harry sent some harmless jinx at him back at Hogwarts. Harry was glad that even though it was a completely different and new person staring at him, some things didn’t change. He was still the same Draco Malfoy.

“Potter, I swear I will cast all three of the Unforgivables at you if you don’t-”

Right. Draco froze up, eyes wide. He couldn’t use magic anymore and hadn’t even thought about doing so in the past six years, but all it took was one harmless prank for him to turn into the school bully he used to be. And for some reason, Harry found it endearing.

“Sure, go ahead,” he smirked and tossed his wand at him, challenge in his eyes. Draco caught the wand out of instinct, but with so much caution, it made Harry’s heart break a little. What once was a powerful wizard, smart and sophisticated, was now a harmless human being with no power.

Draco turned the wand over in his hands, fingers tracing the grooves like he was trying to remember how it felt to hold real magic again. His grip was hesitant, almost unsure, and for a moment, Harry saw something flicker across his face – loss, longing, something too raw to name.

Draco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and then, with a scoff that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he shook his head, “What, expecting me to AK you in broad daylight?”

“I mean, you could try,” Harry tapped his chin as if in thought before plopping down onto the damp bed, “I survived it twice, didn’t I? The third time’s a charm.”

“Yeah… no,” Draco scrunched his nose and took a sip of the ice-cold water, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He still held onto the wand like he was trying to remember all those years when it wouldn’t be a useless stick in his hand when he could do beautiful, but also very dangerous, things with it.

Something in Harry clicked. He missed feeling Draco’s magic, even if it was malevolent most of the time. Still, he saw the blonde do breathtaking spells, like turning stones into beetles or making many shapes from flames in a hearth. One time, it was a fire bunny hopping happily, the other, a pretty dove flying around. Draco cast spells in the most noble way, like he was dancing with the wand. So precise and delicate that it almost broke Harry when he learned of all the horrible things the young Malfoy had done.

“You know,” Harry turned to Javier, smiling, “Draco was one of the most spectacular wizards I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, pish posh!” the blonde shook his head with a visible frown, but somewhere deep inside, he knew he wanted to hear what Harry had to say. Especially in the vulnerable state he was in.

“It’s true. He taught me many spells-”

“I didn’t teach you shit, Potter,” Draco interrupted, “We never talked, remember?”

To that, Harry’s smile widened, “Yes, but if I remember correctly, I spent hours upon hours watching you, didn’t I? You think I didn’t pick up a thing or two? Here…” He reached out and held Draco’s wand hand with his own, fingers enclosing around his careful grip. Harry guided Draco’s hand gently, feeling the slightest tremor in the pale palm. He could almost feel the lingering traces of magic, the memory of power that once flowed so freely from Draco’s fingertips. He pointed the wand.

A soft glow emanated from the tip of the wand as a delicate, white blossom began to form, blooming in the air like a living thing. It unfolded slowly, petals curling outward, glowing faintly with an ethereal light, hovering in midair before drifting gently to rest in Draco’s lap. It was a simple spell, one of the first Draco had taught him years ago, but it was beautiful, soft, and calming – so unlike the wild, destructive magic that had once been at Draco’s command.

“Oh my God,” Draco breathed out. He shivered under the aggressive stream of Harry’s magic that was tingling in his own fingers and watched the flowers in his lap with amusement. “My mother taught me that,” he whispered and felt his eyes well up but didn’t let the tears escape. “Every time I missed her I… It made me feel closer to her, the flowers.”

“Where’s your mother now?” Javier asked, his voice not so obnoxious anymore. Harry was surprised at the tone, to be honest. He knew he and Draco had always joked around, but for some reason, he’d never expected the possibility of Javier actually being sensible, even though Draco had told him Javier had always been the one who kept him from breaking down.

“I don’t know,” Draco replied quietly. “I suppose I never really contacted her after I was banished.”

Harry bit his cheek. He could feel the sadness coursing through the once cheerful Draco, his silver eyes now clouded and cold, full of silent hurt. Of course, Narcissa was fine. Harry used to check on her regularly, every second Sunday of the month, and they shared a few words over a cup of tea. She showed him her gardens, and he helped her restore the Manor after the war so she wouldn’t be haunted by the cruel screams of tortured victims or the scorch marks on the walls. She was rather happy and just started living a more social life. Reconnected with some old friends and stuff. And he was glad to see her gain some colour in her pale face again, he really was… the problem was, however, that Draco didn’t know any of this.

Harry was sure the blonde would be furious if he found out. Draco hated the wizarding world, and Harry figured it would only upset him to hear about his mother, especially if he found out Harry missed two of their tea sessions because of him. God, he would be so angry.

So, Harry tucked a piece of Draco’s hair behind his ear, the same way he always does, and tried to redirect the flow of the conversation. Ever so subtly so it wouldn’t be obvious. “The best thing I’ve ever seen you do must’ve been,” he trailed off, pretending to think, “probably that time in fifth year when you charmed Parkinson’s quill to write ‘Draco Malfoy is the most handsome wizard in the whole Wizarding world’ over and over again until it ran out of ink.”

Draco snickered, “I’ll have you know, I didn’t have to charm a thing. It was all her.”

“What?” Harry let out an incredulous laugh. “No way. I mean, I always thought you two were dating, but…”

“Nu-uh,” Draco shook his head with a smile tugging at his lips, “I’m sure she would like to think so, but I was maybe a tad bit too gay to ever start anything with her.”

“You know,” Javier chimed in, “It’s crazy! You two talking about enchanted quills and a school full of wizards… What comes next? Spirit guardians?”

Draco laughed, a hint of amusement in those incredible icy eyes. “Yes, the Patronus Charm. Rumour has it Potter’s one was the most impressive.”

“Oh, please-”

Javier leaned in, intrigued. “What’s a Patronus?”

“It’s a protection spell,” Harry explained, absentmindedly twirling his wand between his fingers. “It creates an animal guardian spirit made of light to ward off Dementors – soul-sucking creatures that feed on your worst memories.”

Javier blinked. “Okay, that sounds metal as hell. What was yours? A fox, I bet.” His eyes darted towards Draco with curiosity, but Draco only frowned.

“Wouldn’t know. Never managed one,” he said with a sad smile. “Harry had a stag.”

“Oh, yes,” Harry nodded, “Prongs. Miss that glorious bastard.”

Draco’s expression faltered before he turned to Harry with worry. Are you happy? he read from the worried scowl Draco gave him, but yes, Harry was quite happy. Maybe even more than that.

His Patronus changed around the beginning of the year, and it was quite a shocker. He was in the middle of explaining the protection charm to some sixth years, wooing over the beauty of the glimmering stag, emphasising its antlers and how glamorous and amazing they were. About the bravery and heroism it radiated, about how it was linked to his father, how it saved his life several times before, when suddenly-

Harry raised his wand and looked at Draco with a look the blonde couldn’t quite interpret. He murmured the incantation quietly and saw a beam of silver light shoot out of the tip of his wand. It danced around the room, playing with the faint sunlight before morphing from a cloud of mist into a big, marvellous snake. Its body twisted and turned, slithered through the air, and Harry could see Draco’s lips part slightly.

The snake was as big as Nagini, but it looked nowhere near as scary as her. It looked, rather, harmless. Smart and beautiful, and so, so elegant. Its markings were simple dots, almost star-like, scattered around its body in the most peculiar pattern (which Hermione later explained was the Draco constellation, of course). The Patronus stopped right in front of the hungover trio, almost scolding them with its blue eyes for being in such an undignifying state. If a Patronus could frown, it would definitely be frowning.

Draco blinked twice before scoffing, “Cliché.”

“I know, right?” Harry smirked.

Harry had felt like an idiot when the sixth years saw the furthest thing from a stag. They started giggling and pointing, whispering what then appeared as nonsense about their professor being in love, and Harry had to sit down for a whole minute, his palms rubbing his eyes as he tried to understand what that could’ve meant. Of course, Harry wasn’t stupid. He figured it out quickly but was in deep denial until he saw Draco again in May.

He shrugged and turned his attention from the snake to the two men in his bed, who were still shirtless, shielding their eyes from the excess of light in the room. The silver beast faded into nothing as Harry proceeded to stroke Draco’s cheek again before giving him a playful slap across the face.

“Now, what made you think drinking with Javi was a good idea?”

The room erupted into a playful argument, mostly consisting of Harry accusing Javier of trying to poison him and the latter laughing at him for being a lightweight. He was far from that and wouldn’t stand being so wrongly accused. He blamed it all on the herbal death they were forced to drink, while Javier made smug remarks about it being a fair punishment for leaving him alone in a German pub to have a shag, which, according to him, wasn’t anywhere worth leaving their friend stranded.

Draco only laughed along, and Harry let a wave of bliss wash over him. All the worries, all the regrets and the guilt faded into nothingness because as incredible as Draco’s magic was, it only ever caused him pain. He was reminded that the blonde truly belonged in this world, and that he was happy. Once again. No matter how much time Harry spent with Draco, it still tugged at his heart in a pleasant way. The Serpent, the king of the racetrack, not some scrawny Death Eater, not simply a pawn to Lord Voldemort’s horrendous schemes.

The three eventually spent their whole day locked in their apartment, either playing games and joking around like a bunch of teenagers or Draco cuddling the life out of Harry while Javier was on the phone with Ginny, telling her about the wonderful race at Nürburgring, which he somehow could pronounce, unlike Harry. In the evening, they ordered pizza and watched Muggle movies with cans of beer in their hands.

It was fun. Harry felt free, so like himself again it was unbelievable. And he could do this all the time, he realised. He could stay with Draco forever, living as an anonymous citizen, drifting in empty parking lots and making love throughout the whole night, eating junk food and drinking whisky that wouldn’t burn a hole through his throat. They could get wine-drunk and have that whole ‘Have I ever told you how much I love and appreciate you?’ experience, hold each other tight. In the winter, they could have silly snowball fights and build snowmen that ridiculously resemble their old teachers, give each other the most thoughtful presents and create their own Christmas traditions. Make New Year’s resolutions together. They could travel the world, and Harry could be present for every single one of Draco’s races. They could eventually settle down, start a family, who knows. They could do it all.

The last day of their trip to Germany was full of stressful packing, a mixture of panicked screams (‘Potter, where did you put my moisturiser?’, ‘Javi, leave the bloody bathroom, I need to take a shit’, ‘Harry, could you shrink my suitcase?’) and of course, beams of celebration. Draco had won the second race at the Nürburgring, as expected, while Javier came in fourth, which was impressive, seeing as their competition was as good, if not better than the last one.

Then, with one last loving kiss, they set off to the Netherlands.

Chapter Text

Harry stretched his arms above his head, smiling as he felt his back crack deliciously. He was still sore from the car ride to the Netherlands, which, despite being shorter than the route from England to Germany, was more tiring. For some reason, it seemed as if every fucking person on the planet decided to move from the same point A to the same point B at the same exact time as he, his boyfriend and his American Muggle friend. Traffic was probably his least favourite thing about driving. He wanted to feel the wind in his hair as he coursed through the Autobahn, but some complete nutter decided it would be fun to switch lanes without looking first, resulting in a huge car crash that slowed them down by almost two hours.

Luckily, he was already tangled in a mess of blankets on a couch in a small house they were staying in for the time being. With a glass of strawberry wine in his hand, he hypnotised the clock on the wall, checking in for the tenth time. He was growing rather impatient.

Draco and Javier, who had already visited the Dutch city before and were quite familiar with the surroundings, decided to go out and get some groceries. And they were taking so bloody long Harry caught himself groaning several times over the past hour. He looked at the clock again, still the same. Only one minute had passed. He was sure he’d see the damned thing in his sleep – the square shape, which made his blood boil, because whoever the fuck decided it would be a good idea to make a clock that wasn’t round (?), the ugly, depressing coat of black paint, and the grey logo that was unnecessarily big. Now that he thought about it, the same logo was printed on every single coffee cup in the house. And he already hated it. He swore to himself never to try Douwe Egberts coffee, simply out of spite.

He tapped his finger against the thin wine glass, a deep sigh on his lips. If only he had some way of entertaining himself.

And then it clicked.

It was risky, and he was setting himself up for failure, but Merlin, if it somehow worked out…

He took his wand out, probably gripping it way too hard, but that didn’t matter right now. What did matter was the silver snake Patronus that emerged out of glittery smoke as he opened his mouth to speak, ordering it to convey a message. He smiled as he watched the beautiful creature fade slowly and plopped back down on the soft couch, already feeling better.

He downed his glass, humming approvingly as the sweetness of the liquid hugged his taste buds and warmed his insides. Delicious!

Another glass.

He needed another glass.

And as Harry drank his third one, a flashy mist shaped like a Persian cat barged glided through the closed window. It came to a halt at his feet before opening its little mouth, a loud, girly voice echoing through the room, “Is this some kind of a twisted joke?” The cat tilted its head as if mirroring its master’s emotions. “If so, then I’ll have you know you’re not funny. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you are a Gryffindor, and the world has yet to see a lion lie. I will arrive on Thursday, be sure to wait for me somewhere private. And if I find out you’re taking the piss, you’re fucking dead, Potter.”

Harry could jump from all the excitement, his stomach already twisting in anticipation of what was to come. Thursday. Thursday was the day after tomorrow, which was also the day of Draco and Javier’s race. It was a great plan, and Harry was sure Draco would be ecstatic. Harry could already imagine his big, brilliant smile. But then there were Ron and Ginny, who, too, promised to come watch the race, and that could as well ruin everything.

Whatever! It was a great plan, a great surprise, and Harry was a great boyfriend. He deserved a mental pat on his own back, so he gave himself one, along with another glass of the strawberry wine, and even though he felt slightly tipsy already, he made a promise to finish the whole bottle sooner than Draco arrived. He was celebrating, after all.

After the fifth and the last glass, Harry was sprawled across the soft carpet on the floor, staring at the ugly square-shaped clock again, and he was half-determined to go and seek Draco out. Luckily, the moment he wanted to take some action, the door of the house flung open, and two breathless men stepped in.

“Honestly, this traffic. I could get here earlier by foot,” Draco groaned, “One bastard almost scratched Javi’s car. It was outrageous!” But then, he noticed Harry on the floor, propped up on his elbows and staring daggers into him. “Are you okay, love?”

“No,” Harry shook his head like a small child, a pout on his lips. He couldn’t suppress the childish behaviour now that he had drunk the whole bottle and wanted nothing more than to drag Draco down next to him and lay on his chest.

“Harry,” Draco spoke softly, abandoning the two shopping bags he was carrying to kneel next to the distressed brunette, “I’m sorry it took so long, but- Potter, did you down the whole bottle?”

Harry grinned sheepishly, “I might have.” He completely ignored the cursing Javier, who came into the kitchen and started unloading all the things they had bought and continued staring right into Draco’s soul. “I was bored, okay?”

“’Kay, well, I’m all yours now,” Draco smiled and finally sat down, his back against the sofa and arms stretched out for Harry to snuggle into.

“Good.”

“Good,” the blonde repeated, settling Harry against his chest and pressing a kiss to his messy hair. “You’re clingier than usual. Not that I’m complaining.”

Harry hummed contentedly, nuzzling into Draco’s warmth. “Missed you,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Draco’s shoulder.

Draco smirked, running his fingers through the unruly black locks. “I can see that. Didn’t think a bit of traffic would leave you devastated, though.”

“Shut up, I’m drunk,” Harry protested.

Draco chuckled, “So, why exactly have you decided it would be a good idea to drink the whole bottle?”

“Celebrating,” the brunette proclaimed as if it was obvious. “I have a surprise for you.”

Draco raised a suspicious brow. “Potter…”

“You’ll love it, I promise,” Harry whispered, his breath warm against Draco’s jaw before he pressed a lingering, slightly sloppy kiss to it.

“You’re unbelievable,” Draco laughed lowly. “All these years, and I still can’t figure you out.”

Harry raised a single brow, tilting his head. “That’s some bullshit, that is,” he jabbed an accusing finger into Draco’s chest, though the alcohol in his blood made him want to drag it down his toned torso. “You know, I think,” he slurred, “you may be the only one that truly understands me.”

“Oh, is this what this is about? Your little depressive moment?” Draco laughed, pushing Harry’s fringe from his forehead so he could look him in the eyes properly. When Harry shook his head, Draco continued, “Whatever you say then, lion.”

Harry smiled, teeth on display and cheeks a vibrant red colour. He was happy. Merlin, he was so happy. He was cuddled up against a man he loved with all his heart, knowing – for the first time in his life being sure – that Draco loved him back as much, maybe even more. It was bliss, truly. His embrace was a warm paradise, and Harry realised, this is it. This was where he belonged, being cuddle-drunk with his boyfriend who would give him the moon.

Now, Draco and Harry hadn’t said the three sacred words, but they didn’t have to. They both felt it, the mutual understanding, respect and worship. Draco always knew what to say, which buttons to push, being an anchor for the ever-confused Harry, who was still figuring out where he belonged in the world. And each day that passed, the answer became clearer and clearer. And that’s why he inched closer.

“I love you,” Harry said as he looked into those beautiful silver eyes. Over the past month, he started noticing they leaned more towards blue than grey, so warm and kind they felt like a ray of sunshine after a storm. They blinked twice, widening but never leaving Harry’s face. A wave of panic washed over him, but he kept talking. “I love you,” he repeated, “I always have.”

“Potter,” Draco’s whispers were pained and quiet, his eyebrows pinched in the middle of his forehead. “You’re drunk,” he said, his hand immediately finding its rightful place in Harry’s hair. If it weren’t there, Harry would have already started crying.

Still, he couldn’t push away the pure disappointment.

He was so sure of it. He was sure Draco loved him; he was sure he felt the same, even fucking Javier hinted at it, so… why didn’t he say it?

A tear escaped his eye, despite Draco’s efforts to keep him calm. Draco’s fingers tightened slightly in the dark hair, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. The corners of his lips were twisted in a way Harry had last seen when they were sixteen, so miserable and hurt he almost felt guilty for saying what he did.

For the most part, though, Harry was angry. He felt betrayed and played with, and didn’t want to keep looking at the ravishing pale face, but for some reason, it only seemed to pull him in closer. He was sick to his stomach by how much control Draco had over him. He took his heart and, in one swift blow, shattered it into a million pieces, but Harry couldn’t do anything to get away. And it hurt. It fucking hurt, though Harry stayed glued to his spot and stared into the silky silver gaze that was laced with as much pain.

Confused, he balled his fist. “What?” he hissed, “What does being drunk have to do with anything?”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling through his nose as if steadying himself. His fingers were still tangled in Harry’s hair, but there was hesitation in his touch now, something fragile and uncertain that Harry didn’t like.

“Because,” Draco started, his voice hoarse, “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret it.”

At this, Harry’s fury shot through the roof. “Regret it? Is that what you think of me?” he finally flinched away, suddenly terrifyingly sober as he stood up and took a few careful steps away from Draco. “Why would I fucking- Fuck, Malfoy, I just poured my heart out to you! Do you realise that?”

“Yes, and that’s the whole problem,” his voice was too calm for Harry’s liking.

He didn’t know why he was so wound up – it was okay for Draco not to love him back. Maybe Harry pressed too much. Maybe it was too soon. He didn’t want to put pressure on the blonde, yet he just assumed. He was so sure. And he hated being wrong, even if it wasn’t Draco’s fault.

“Come back, pet,” Draco whispered as he motioned for Harry to fall into his arms again. It – Draco, his intense eyes, the stupid nickname – was too much. Harry’s blood was boiling so hard he heard it in his ears, but at the same time, it felt like he was under Imperio. Only that he could resist Imperio. This magnetic force that guided him towards Draco was too strong to ignore and fight, so he succumbed to it and fell to his knees. “Harry,” the blonde said again and reached to cup Harry’s face into his rough palms. “Stop. You don’t mean that, and you know it.”

Harry let out a broken, incredulous laugh and shook his head. “What the fuck?” he asked more himself than his boyfriend, the tightness in his chest reaching unbearable limits. “What the fuck!” this time, it came out as a scream. “You know, I could live with you not loving me, but you could at least be a decent person about it without this… this.. manipulative act! That’s sick, Draco!”

Malfoy’s face scrunched in all the anger that finally bubbled up to the surface, his ears turning red. “Manipulative?” he flinched, “Harry, I would never-”

“Then stop telling me what I do and don’t feel,” Harry shouted. “I told you I loved you, Malfoy, and you have the audacity to dismiss it? After all we’ve been through?”

Harry watched as one of Malfoy’s eyelids twitched, a thick vein popping on his forehead. He took a sharp breath, and the way he squared his shoulders made Harry feel terrified. He raised a slender, threatening finger. “How,” his chest was heaving up and down as the venomous words rolled off his tongue. “How do you expect me ever to believe you love me?!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, his voice loud enough for the neighbours to hear, “I mean, Harry, that I am a washed up scumbag that failed at everything he touched! I did unspeakable things, I betrayed everyone I loved, and there is no fucking way you could feel that way about someone like me! I am unworthy of anything that even hints at affection. Especially from you! And you know that, so stop playing pretend!”

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he could only stare. Draco’s chest rose and fell erratically, his hands clenched so tight they trembled. His silver eyes were wide, wild, his face twisted with self-loathing so deep it made Harry’s own fury feel insignificant. But it was still there, he realised.

It still burned from inside out.

This… none of this made any sense!

“THEN WHY ARE YOU WITH ME?”

Harry didn’t mean to yell as loud as he did. He regretted it the second it happened, knowing well that it could only led to a disaster he wasn’t ready for. His hands felt numb, and he couldn’t reach for Draco’s wrist when he stood up. He wanted to, very much in fact – to pull the blonde down and keep him there beside him so he wouldn’t leave, but Draco was already putting on the cardigan he had shrugged off just twenty minutes ago.

He was halfway to the door when he turned around, “Because, Potter, I love you! It’s not supposed to be the other way around!” He patted his pockets to find his car keys, luckily unable to locate them. Every second was a precious gift Harry wanted to savour before he, Draco, zoned out and never looked at him again.

Harry spotted the keys on the coffee table in front of him. He saw the opportunity and seized it, throwing himself at the glass and grabbing the small device so hard he almost bruised his knuckles.

“Give me the keys, Potter,” Draco’s voice was scary and low, his body towering over Harry. He knew Draco would never hurt him physically. He knew that. But the strong chest that he had felt so safe against earlier today was now strangely horrifying and intimidating. “Give me-”

“Pleasedon’tleave,” Harry sobbed out, broken, finally allowing himself to cry. And cry he did – he was choking on his own breaths, shaking his head and clutching the keys to his chest as if they were the only thing keeping Draco from vanishing entirely. His entire body trembled with the force of his sobs, shoulders shaking so violently he thought he might break apart.

Draco stood his ground, “Give me the keys, Harry.”

“No!”

“Give me the fucking keys!” he snapped, and Harry could pinpoint the exact moment Draco stopped looking like his boyfriend. Instead, he saw the blonde, arrogant git he went to school with. He saw the boy who aided Voldemort (even though unwillingly, but everyone has a choice in the end), the one that was ready to torture him in a bathroom before Harry slashed him open, the one he tried so desperately not to think about with the illusion that Draco had changed. Everyone made mistakes, Harry always said, but this person standing in front of him… He looked like Lucius Malfoy.

He looked like a Death Eater, like all the talks about him changing his beliefs and ways were just lies carefully carved out for his own benefit.

“Were you only wasting my time?” Harry asked with a small spirit, afraid of the answer he might be given.

“No,” Draco denied, but there was no warmth in his tone still, “No. I allowed myself to be selfish for once.” He stretched his arm in front of him, expecting Harry to give him the clicker to his car. The brunette, for some reason, obliged and pressed the small plastic box into his cold palm. “I can see now that it would never work out for me.”

And with that, Draco Malfoy was out the door, leaving Harry to break down in the middle of a house they were supposed to share for a week.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Javier was most supportive of Harry, and the wizard wondered how he could hold a grudge against him. He came running from the kitchen as soon as he heard the door slam and threw his muscular arms around the sobbing figure in comfort. He let Harry cry and vent, and to his surprise, didn’t defend Draco. He even went as far as to call the blonde a ‘fucking piece of fucking shit,’ which, despite the dark atmosphere, made Harry chuckle.

Javier rubbed circles into Harry’s back, murmuring soft reassurances in Spanish, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s okay, cariño. Let it out.”

He stayed with Harry until he fell asleep and made him breakfast in the morning. He tried distracting the brunette from the fact that Draco hadn’t come home, but however sweet the action may have seemed, it didn’t help. Javier understood. He stayed and he cared and he did everything to make Harry feel better. They got drunk early in the morning and both threw up next to each other by lunch – Harry in the toilet while Javier in the sink.

Cleaning up the mess they made helped a bit – Javier threw his stinky sponge right into Harry’s face, earning a flick of the disgusting toilet water in return. After they both took a well-deserved shower, they settled into Harry and Draco’s – well, Harry’s now – room since being in the living room still triggered the newly broken heart. They listened to songs and watched Dutch news, which they didn’t understand a word of, but it was strangely… captivating.

Javier wanted Harry to send for his friends a day early so they would comfort him, but Harry disagreed. He didn’t want Ron and Ginny to worry about him, and despite them making peace with Draco, he knew they would drag him to hell and back. He didn’t want that. He still stood by what he said – he loved Draco. And Javier helped him understand that Draco had a hard time understanding that.

Even though Javier didn’t know anything about how the pure-blood families worked, he knew about strict and abusive parents (having a pair of them himself). He told Harry that sometimes, even after moving out and living apart from them for years, their words come flooding back to you regardless of how much you try to fight them. Especially in Draco’s case, where he was never hit or slapped by Lucius, he was that much prone to being sensitive towards words.

Harry could imagine it: Lucius shouting at Draco for never being good enough, pressuring him into always being better, even though according to Harry, he was great. Javier explained that Draco had confidence in him a couple of years ago – he told him the Malfoy patriarch screamed at him daily, reminding him that he wasn’t worthy of his name, of his life, and worst of all, of any love. He told Draco no one would ever care for him truly, an empty threat that had sunk deep into his bones.

Harry spent the night thinking. He was the reason Draco left – he forced him into a corner, triggered something within him that he failed to understand due to the rage and disappointment, and instead of running after him and talking about it, he let him walk out that door. Harry felt cross with himself for failing to see it. Draco had a hard time after the war, and so did Harry. Still, the brunette remained waking up in sweat and couldn’t be near some things that reminded him too much of Voldemort. Somehow, foolishly, he failed to acknowledge that Draco might feel the same. He couldn’t see the lingering effects of his PTSD, being too smitten by his idealised image of a put-together Draco. And Harry should’ve known – firsthand – that sometimes, even the most level-headed people crack under pressure.

When Thursday, the race day, came, Harry was still too ashamed to face Draco and insisted on staying home. Javier even volunteered to sit this one out, though Harry would never forgive himself for that, and that’s how he found himself brushing his untameable hair and putting on cologne. He grabbed a white tank top from Draco’s cupboard – it was smeared with motor oil that he couldn’t wash away, and he only wore it in the safety of his garage, where no one could see him. It smelled of Draco’s detergent, lavender and citrus, a scent half of Harry’s clothes had also picked up over the course of their relationship. Harry figured if anything went south, he’d at least have a piece of his boyfriend (was he still?) with him.

When he arrived at the race track, Ron and Ginny were already waiting for him with three plastic cups of strawberry mojito. They greeted him with broad smiles, and he faked one in return, not wanting to rub his concerns onto them. They were here for Javi, after all, not whatever Harry and Draco were going through.

As soon as he was handed the plastic cup, a pungent stench of rum hit his nose, and he felt his stomach twist and turn. He shoved the beverage back into Ron’s hands, explaining, “Javi and I-” Shit, they couldn’t know! “- and Draco had quite a bit of that yesterday.”

Luckily, the two nodded and grabbed onto his elbows, pulling him towards the grandstand happily.

He would’ve completely forgotten about the mysterious guest he invited just two days prior, if the sight of her didn’t hit him like a Bludger to the head.

Heels too high for her own safety, hair perfectly combed and styled into a high ponytail, those unmistakable dark bangs. Pansy Parkinson looked like a jewel in a pile of pebbles, oozing nobility and respect. She fit surprisingly well with the Muggles, despite being so eye-catching. Maybe it was the clothes - a form-fitting black leather jacket that hugged her frame perfectly, paired with a soft emerald green blouse that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Her skirt, a little black thing barely covering her buttocks, was in sharp contrast with her long, milky-white legs, and Harry had to bite his cheek, because dammit, why were all Slytherins fucking hot?

She scanned him with his eyes, which landed on the dirty wife beater. “Well, you look like shit,” she commented with an edge to her voice that felt familiar from all the times he heard it when they were kids. It was good to know that despite her being a full-grown – and well-grown in the right areas – woman, she still had a bit of school rivalry in her. It made matters that much easier.

“Parkinson,” Harry nodded in greeting. “Mouth as big as ever, I see.”

She smirked, “You know me.” Pansy turned to the two gingers tailing Harry, then grabbed one of the mojitos, much to Ron’s protest. “Weasels,” she took a sip of the strawberry sweetness, her red lipstick staining the plastic straw. “Good to know you two haven’t changed a bit.” Her eyes drifted between Ron and Ginny, her gaze sharp, calculating. She seemed to take a sick pleasure in making people uncomfortable, as if her very presence was an act of subtle dominance. “Potty at least gained some muscle. Not half bad if it wasn’t for this monstrosity.” She clasped the shoulder strap on Harry’s top between her fingers and snickered.

“It’s Draco’s,” Harry defended, looking at the ground as a deep red blush dusted his cheeks.

“Good one,” she rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe Draco would ever wear something so horrendous. “Now, where is the whisper of a charm?”

“I imagine he’d be getting ready to win this fucking thing,” Ginny replied and crossed her arms.

“Oh? Potter never mentioned that,” Pansy’s sharp eyebrow rose up.

Harry scratched his nape, “Yes, well, I wanted it to be a surprise. For both of you, really. He doesn’t… know you’re here.”

“Well, aren’t you a good little friend?” Pansy's eyes gleamed with mischief as she let her words hang in the air like a spell just waiting to be cast. "How sweet," she purred, taking another leisurely sip from her mojito.

“We’re not exactly…” Harry stammered but dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. Let’s get going. The race is about to start.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

It was a complete disaster. Well, not really – Harry was worried Pansy would moan and complain about all the noise and the smell the cars made. He was ready to cast a discreet Muffliato for her (much to his dislike, since the sounds and smells were what he loved the most about racing), but she was strangely into it. They were standing close to the track, only one railing separating them from the road itself. She was leaning over it and screaming her lungs out at the drivers as if they could hear her.

Even despite being so close they could see inside the cars and take a good look at the drivers, Draco didn’t look at him. He probably figured there was no point since, in his mind, he thought Harry wouldn’t come. The brunette could see his misery, however well he tried to hide it under his matte helmet. His radiant silver eyes weren’t full of that competitive flame Harry admired. They were cold and sad, and it stung.

Throughout the whole race, Draco was falling behind. He wasn’t last, which was a huge relief, but he was far from first. Maybe fifth or fourth if he tried hard enough. But Draco didn’t try – that much was obvious. There were no green flames shooting from his exhaust, no cutting corners, no clever overtakes, only… plain and boring driving.

“He’s so out of it!” Ron commented, “Come on! Floor it!”

Harry looked at his ginger friend, a veil of grief setting over him. He sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think he has this one.”

“Nonsense!” Ginny screamed. “He’s The Serpent! He never loses!” She nudged him with his elbow. “Didn’t shag him enough last night?”

“I- We-” Harry stuttered, and honestly, he wanted to break down. “I…”

“I’m joking!” Ginny shook her head, her eyes never leaving the colourful blur of cars.

Three more laps. Three more laps and Draco would lose. All because of Harry, because Harry screamed and overreacted and was too scared to let the blonde know he was still watching and cheering for him.

Harry almost sicked up when Draco purposefully slowed down. It was as if he had given up altogether, and Harry’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. The sight of him, normally so fierce, now driving like a shadow of himself, was unbearable.

He needed to do something.

He needed to act, and he needed to act now.

Draco’s speed (or in this case, not so much speed as slowness) could be used to an advantage. The silver Viper wasn’t far from where they sat, and if he tried hard enough, he could…

Harry leaned over the railing and much as he could, brought his hands to his mouth and screamed, “You arsehole!” Draco’s shoulders visibly stiffened, his head snapping from the road to the grandstand, searching for the source of the very familiar voice. “I bet my fucking car on you, you idiot, and you fucking suck!” He smirked when Draco’s eyes finally found him, his car swerving from side to side. “You’re not The Serpent! You’re just a sore loser, aren’t you?” Draco shook his head frantically, his eyes wide in shock. He wasn’t a loser. He knew he wasn’t a loser. So, Harry gave him one final push, “Then drive like you mean it!”

That was all it took.

Draco shifted his gaze – once again so fierce and determined – to the concrete in front of him. The silver Viper growled dangerously, and as Draco’s foot hit the pedal, it shot forward. Harry grinned as the once-lagging car began to eat up the distance between Draco and the rest of the field. The control, the precision, the speed – it was all there. It was all there, and Harry was fucking hard.

He didn’t care about Pansy giving him a quizzical look, nor about Ginny pulling at his arm in excitement because Draco was driving. He was fast, treacherous, and his car a feral animal. Harry’s heart pounded as Draco navigated the tight corners, his Viper a blur of silver and green as it cut through the pack.

He saw Draco flick his wrist as he activated the much-needed nitrous, a fiery tongue licking the car from behind. When he disappeared from Harry’s line of sight, the brunette wasn’t even scared. He could hear the car, wild and untamed. And when Draco reappeared from behind a corner, he was in the lead, where he belonged.

The crowd’s roar blurred into background noise as Harry leaned forward, gripping the railing tighter, heart in his throat. “That’s it, dragon,” he whispered to himself as the silver bullet shot past him, “Nice.”

When Draco finished first, everyone exploded – the four wizards included. Pansy shouted so loud that Harry was sure she damaged his eardrum, Ron and Ginny hugged tightly, and all of them zoomed straight out of their seats, shoving into people but not giving a single thought about all the Dutch curses aimed at them.

Harry was the first to reach Draco. He lost his friends somewhere along the way, though he didn’t know where and when. The blonde was in the middle of pulling his helmet off in his garage when Harry attacked him. Their bodies collided after what felt like an eternity, so warm and wet and arousing that Harry never wanted to let go. Strong arms wrapped around his midriff as a clump of sweat-damp hair hit the crook of his neck. Draco groaned into Harry’s ear, his hands clutching the dirty fabric of his tank top as Harry pushed and pressed against the hot crotch with his own one.

“I love you,” he said in between whimpers, knowing that this time, the result would be different. “I love you, you sick bastard.” His voice was raw and desperate, hands roaming all around Draco’s back in a weak attempt to pull him closer. It wasn’t possible – they were as entangled as they could be, Harry’s thigh now around Draco’s waist, grinding against each other. Hoarse pants, silent cries and the ruffling of fabric against fabric.

“Harry, I lo-” Draco strained out, resting his forehead against Harry’s.

Harry interrupted him, “Shut up,” before crashing his lips over Draco’s. The kiss was yearning and needy, communicating all the things that were left unsaid between the pair. The urgency with which Draco kissed him could send him over the edge any second, though he wanted to savour it. Draco’s body was rigid against his, but Harry could feel the way he melted into the touch, the way his lips gave in to the force of Harry’s kiss, as if they both knew that nothing was going to stop them now. No more pretending, no more distance.

“I fucking love you,” Harry muttered, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. “You have no idea how much.”

Draco’s silver eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with desire, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he whispered back, “Me t-”

“No,” Harry shushed him again, “Save it for later.” He gave him one last peck and, with Draco’s disappointed groan, untangled himself from his grasp. “I have something to show you.”

It was a stupid idea, bringing Pansy to him when both of them were hard to the point of leaking, but if she came and found them snogging and humping, the consequences would be severe. So, he took Draco’s hand in his own and guided him through the garage gate.

They didn’t make it far, though, because Draco stopped, yanking Harry back to him with a fierce, quiet growl. “You can’t just do that, Potter,” Draco strained, voice low with desire, his breath still shaky from their kiss. He looked Harry up and down, eyes dark with want. “You can’t just pull away like that.”

Harry smirked, the heat between them only intensifying. “I can,” he said softly, teasingly, “but you’ll just have to wait, won’t you?”

Draco growled again, his hands tugging Harry closer, his lips finding Harry’s once more. The kiss was frantic, raw, the frustration of their half-completed moment making it all the more electric. Draco’s tongue seemed to be everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

“We can’t… not yet,” Harry gasped, knowing how hard it was to stop when every part of him was begging for more.

Draco reluctantly pulled back, his breath coming in uneven pants. “You’re killing me, Potter.”

“Well, suck it up,” the brunette sassed and once again, led Draco through the gate, hoping that this time they’d get much further.

They stepped into the fresh air just in time – Ron, Ginny and Pansy were in the middle of a spirited conversation, obviously arguing about something insignificant. Pansy was rolling her eyes but stopped in her tracks when she saw Harry and Draco, both a perspiring mess, fingers intertwined. She smirked, that evil, sinister, Slytherin smirk, and placed her hands firmly on her shapely hips.

Draco didn’t notice her at first. He was still scowling at Harry, blushing like crazy as he tried to regain some semblance of control. His chest rose and fell with each breath. But Harry knew the moment Pansy spoke, the mood would shift entirely.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Pansy's voice cut through the air, dripping with amusement. Her gaze flicked between Harry and Draco, lingering on their clasped hands before shooting Draco a knowing look. "Didn’t think you’d be the one to get caught, Malfoy."

Draco’s face froze as he slowly turned to look at her. His jaw could’ve hit the floor, eyes as wide as saucers, breath stopping completely. For a moment, Harry was afraid he had killed him. Then, Draco’s shaky voice echoed through the area, “Is- Is that- Are you… Are you real?”

“As real as they come, darling,” Pansy smiled sweetly and took a step closer, stretching out her arms. Draco didn’t hesitate for a second. He ran up to her, picked her up and spun her in a circle, squeezing her tightly. He laughed his melodic laugh, the whole reason Harry had called for Pansy in the first place. Draco was happy, practically glowing in the sunlight, and if it was possible, he would puke out rainbows from his mouth.

Merlin, he was beautiful.

Perfect.

“Great job out there, by the way,” the witch said as he patted his shoulder. “Really, I was reluctant at first, but somehow, you pulled through.”

Draco was looking at her and nodding frantically as if he didn’t even hear what she said, just stared her up and down and touched her elbow, shoulder, hip, face, to ensure that she was real. He muttered a quiet apology and engulfed her into another hug.

“Harry,” he asked when he turned around, “Is she the surprise? Did you do this for me?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at Draco’s wide-eyed excitement. He nodded and shot him a wink. Pansy laughed, explaining, “Yep, Potty contacted me a few days ago. He didn’t exactly say what this-” her hand gestured between Draco and Harry “- was, but he said he found you and asked me if I wanted to see you.”

“You really... You really did that for me?” Draco’s voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze searching Harry’s face as if looking for the truth in every little detail. “God, Harry, I lov-”

“I said save it.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Harry didn’t know how he had ended up here. Well, he did – they drove to the house they rented out, Draco happily jumping on the couch that sent shivers down Harry’s spine for two days straight. What he didn’t get, though, was which idiot allowed Ron to fulfil his dream of buying weed.

So, Harry was sitting on Draco’s lap, his head buried in the long, platinum locks that fell over his shoulder, fighting for his life to keep his eyelids open. He swore they were closed, but at the same time, he could see everything that was happening around him. He could see Ginny throwing her head back and laughing like a menace on something that wasn’t even funny, but just seeing her toothy grin, Harry wanted to laugh too. Pansy was chatting with Javier and Draco while Ron tried to Floo-call Hermione through the obviously electric fireplace.

Harry blinked, trying to focus on the chaos around him. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, like the air itself was thick with smoke and laughter and warmth. It was a strange mix of hazy joy, and Harry wasn’t sure if he was fully awake or if the entire room was just a dream.

He glanced at the ugly clock. 9:32. Not bad.

Draco shifted underneath him, his strong hands sliding to Harry’s hips as he adjusted their position, pulling him closer. Harry couldn’t help but melt into him, grateful for the warmth and the smell of Draco's cologne that clung to his clothes. Draco’s lips brushed against his ear, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“You good?” Draco murmured softly, his voice just the right level of husky.

“Amazing,” Harry replied, raising his head to look into Draco’s eyes. If he ever thought that the world around them disappeared, then he was wrong. Because if didn’t do shit. This, though, this was it. Draco, surrounded by – well, nothing really… not blackness, not the living room, just a void. He blinked, suddenly unsure if he had answered the question. Did he? He didn’t know. “Amazing,” he said just in case, the words feeling like they weren’t his.

“I know, love, you’ve just told me,” Draco smiled, his eyes hooded and red.

“Did I?” Harry scrunched his eyebrows. Did he?

Suddenly, Draco poked his side, “Is this your first time, baby?”

“Obviously,” Harry nodded, “Is this your first time?”

“Obviously not,” Draco chuckled, the sound escaping from somewhere deep in his throat, and Harry felt himself drooling. The large, pale hands moved from his waist to the curve of his arse and squeezed. Harry yelped, though melted into the way Draco giggled. It felt like cotton candy.

Harry’s eyes flickered to Draco’s cherry-kissed lips. If the cherry could kiss them, then so could Harry. They were already asking for it – pulling him in like they had their own gravitational field, twisted in that beautiful, tasty smirk. Harry brushed the soft flesh with his thumb. He closed his eyes and softly moved his mouth against Draco’s, and-

Merlin’s fucking beard.

This was everything. It felt like floating, but not in the way you’d imagine. Like being suspended in a dream, where everything is soft and warm but so vivid it hurts. Harry’s body was light, weightless, yet Draco’s touch was grounding, pulling him closer with each brush of skin. His lips tingled, soft and slow, pressing against Draco’s like they were the only thing real in the world.

They were flying through the strange void again, but now, there were colours. Draco’s lips looked like colours behind Harry’s closed eyelids, first yellow, then orange, then green. He wondered what it meant, whether his brain somehow colour-coded Draco’s kisses, and what those three particular ones represented. The more he thought about the colours, the more he felt himself drifting away, so he pulled himself back into the moment (it felt similar to Apparating), and focused on Draco’s tongue dancing along his own.

Draco tasted like the Indian food they had ordered earlier, and Harry wanted to eat him. Literally eat him. The thought felt weird and somehow violent in his head, but then again… Draco was so delicious.

Harry’s hand settled on the pale neck. The skin was smooth like yoghurt, and Harry found himself wanting to devour his boyfriend.

Draco’s quiet squirms sounded like honey and cinnamon. Or like mashed potatoes. Maybe – maybe – avocado spread. Either way, he wouldn’t go farther than toasted marshmallows.

“Get a room!” Ron screamed from his fireplace, held a palm out to shield his eyes from the image of Harry and Draco sucking faces, and why Harry found it so funny, he’ll never know. He snorted into the blonde’s mouth, and the next moment, he was laughing loud and hard, bending over Draco’s legs. He had tears in his eyes, so hot they stung, but he was unable to wipe them away due to one hand clutching Draco’s shoulder and the other slapping his own poor thigh.

“I’m going to throw up!” he screamed, panic rising in his chest. His eyes were now wide and his mouth open, but he couldn't stop laughing. Somehow, the mental image of him and the fact that he was about to throw up from laughter made him wheeze even more, and the hysterics themselves were funny. Harry choked and cursed, pressing his fist into his mouth so this cycle of dry heaving would end.

Harry panted and rested his forehead against Draco’s cheek, tired as if he had just worked a twelve-hour shift and quite proud of all the things he had accomplished, even though he had done nothing. Once Harry finally calmed down, Draco pressed a soft peck into his hair and giggled.

Draco’s giggle was the kind that should’ve been bottled up and sold in fancy little perfume vials, labelled something ridiculous like Ecstasy No. 7. It was light, sweet, and just smug enough to make Harry’s stomach swoop all over again.

“You’re a disaster, Potter,” Draco murmured, running his fingers lazily through Harry’s hair. Harry’s heart swelled, and he felt himself falling – everywhere, like into the weird void, into those three specific colours, even deeper in love, into the depths of Draco’s eyes. His body stayed put. “Listen, I’m sorry,” the fantastic smile fell from Draco’s peachy lips. “I was a jerk, and I…”

“It’s fine,” Harry shook his head and grinned, needing – needing – that smile to make a comeback. “I was pretty harsh on you, too. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I didn’t understand. But now I do. So it’s fine.”

“But,” Draco pecked the top of Harry’s head again, “I need you to know that I do l-“

“Save it, goddammit.”

The blonde tilted his head, “For when?”

“For when you need to say it.”

Harry stood up and skipped over to the terrace, leaving Draco alone and confused. He decided to check the clock again, just curious, then halted to a stop. 9:34. What the fuck?

“Ah, yes. HP grasps the futility of time,” Javier scoffed from an armchair, swirling a glass of water around as if it was full of whisky. “Welcome to eternity, amigo,”

He blinked. Then again, and when he blinked for the third time and no clarification came, he decided to leave it alone and finally catch some fresh air.

Harry found Pansy leaning against the house, a cigarette neatly placed between her fingers. She placed it to her lips, dragged in a mouthful of breath and inhaled the smoke. “Potty,” she smiled, the smoke warping around her like a scarf.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a step closer and sliding his body against the wall. He squatted down, looking at her from below as she towered over him.

“I needed to take a second,” she shrugged, then pulled off her leather jacket. It landed on the ground next to Harry, and she sat down. “You know… You spend seven years wondering where your best friend is, whether he’s even alive or rotting away somewhere in Azkaban or something, and here he is, in a completely new life that can’t be more different from his last one. It’s like he’s not even the same person.”

Harry picked at a loose thread on his jeans, considering her words. The night air was thick, wrapping around them in something that felt heavier than just humidity. He glanced at Pansy, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon, her cigarette burning a bright red. She offered him a puff, and he gladly took one.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked cautiously, scanning her face.

Pansy shook her head with a minute smile, “No.” She stayed silent for a moment, then spoke up again. “He’s thriving. It just makes you wonder – did he feel trapped in the Wizarding World? Did he want to escape? Did you miss something? Like, maybe if I noticed and helped somehow, he could’ve left much sooner and didn’t have to go through that whole Voldemort thing.”

Harry understood. He had felt like a nutter for the past few months for feeling that way, but seeing Pansy word his thoughts out loud lifted a rather large boulder off his heart.

“I think,” he said and touched her bare knee, “he needed to figure this one on his own. He didn’t know anything about Muggles when we were younger. He came here, found all these new, amazing things and fell in love with them. That’s all it is.”

Pansy gave him a thoughtful look, her eyes softening. “But what about the world he left behind?” she asked, her tone surprisingly gentle.

“It wasn’t exactly his choice, was it?” Harry raised his eyebrow as Pansy lit another cigarette, then stuffed it in his mouth. He took a long drag, “Draco,” exhaled, “misses the Wizarding World more than he’d like to admit. But at the same time, it failed him, and he knows there’s no way he could ever return. He can’t even see the bloody Leaky.” Harry puffed out another cloud. “He missed you. I mean, we barely talk about it since it’s a sensitive topic, but every time we do, we circle around to you.”

Pansy smiled, then looked Harry up and down. “I have to say I get it. What he sees in you,” she gave playful shove as he clutched at his heart dramatically, “No, really. I didn’t get it when you two were obsessing over each other back then-”

“We did not obsess!”

“-but now I do. You look good together. It works. Hey, are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

A white towel fell from Harry’s waist, landing on the floor with a faint thump. He was pinned against a wall, leaving wet stains on the yellow coat of paint, but all he cared about in that moment was how Draco’s hands squeezed his arse. They were hungry and demanding, gripping like they wanted to leave fingerprints, like they wanted to claim him. And he was ready to be claimed. Harry gasped, his breath hitching as Draco pulled him in tighter, pressing their bodies flush together.

Draco’s mouth was on his neck, tongue tracing a line from the dip of his collar bones across his Adam’s apple. It stayed there as Harry swallowed thickly, and Draco let out a self-satisfied chuckle, the image so erotic it made his cock twitch. The soft tickle of the wet blonde hair sent chilly waves through Harry’s bloodstream, the droplets of water that slid down his body feeling like teasing fingers, caressing him painfully slowly.

Harry’s skin burned everywhere Draco touched, a wildfire spreading through his nerves, making his knees feel weak. He was naked, vulnerable and so fucking high, and most of all, he was with Draco. Their argument was only two days ago, though for some reason, it felt like an eternity. And this was their reunion. They touched each other the same as when they met last year, sure but unsure, starving but hesitant. Harry knew every inch of Draco’s body – he traced the Forbidden Forest on Draco’s bicep, the covered Dark Mark, then held his hand like he was scared Draco would leave the moment they were finished. He kissed the small mole on the side of Draco’s neck, nipped at his earlobe, put it between his teeth while chuckling at the goosebumps that formed on the pale, tattooed skin on his boyfriend’s body. Every contact felt electric.

Draco tugged at Harry’s waist, pulling him across the room to the bed they shared. It was a mess, stained with tears and sweat from when Harry broke down. It felt empty without Draco, but now that Harry was straddling him, it grew warm and comfortable again. It was their bed again, like it was always supposed to be.

Green mixing with silver, Harry was met with a well full of sin and desire. If he tipped forward, he’d fall and drown in it. It seemed very appealing at the moment. He wanted to jump and swim and suffocate in Draco’s gaze, stay there until he was reduced to atoms under the weight of the cold stare. The smirk dancing across Draco’s swollen lips was lazy, taunting, like he knew exactly what he was doing to Harry. His fingers dug into Harry’s hips, grounding him, keeping him exactly where he wanted him.

“God, you’re desperate,” Draco murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.

The brunette growled, “Fuck you.”

Draco’s only response was a sharp roll of his hips, and Harry choked on his next breath, his fingers curling in the wet, blonde hair. Draco ground against Harry’s, leaning back on his elbows and letting his head fall back in pleasure. He hissed every time his balls dragged over Harry’s, nails pressing into his palms until there were small, crescent-shaped marks.

The room felt feverish, thick with static, like the crackling air before a storm, and Draco moved like he had all the time in the world, yet with a need that made Harry's skin prickle. Skin against skin, hardness against hardness.

Harry wanted to touch everywhere – chest, arms, neck, shoulders, face, hair. He explored the already familiar territory, its wonders not failing to impress him even after feeling them under his touch for a thousandth time. Everywhere Harry touched, Draco leaned into, his body flinching and shivering in pleasure because he wanted to give, and he wanted to take. Harry’s thumb eventually found the corners of Draco’s mouth. He ran a finger across the plump lip, gasping loudly when it met a moist tongue.

Draco sent him a predatory smile, his lips parting just enough to take Harry’s finger between them, tongue flicking against the tip in a way that sent a sharp jolt down Harry’s spine. His icy eyes stayed locked onto green, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing the whole iris. He gave Harry’s thumb a light suck, slow and deliberate, relishing in the way Harry’s breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered.

Then, as his mouth closed around it, Harry screamed, “Oh shit!” He stared at the man below him through his thick lashes, terrified a little by how something so bizarre could feel so good. Draco’s tongue twirled around Harry’s skin as he bopped his head up and down, looking at Harry like a hunter zeroing in on its target. It was only a thumb, Harry had to remind himself, but every lick, every bite and every nibble threatened to send him into overdrive. Draco closed his eyes and let out a soft hum, waves of vibrations washing over Harry’s whole body.

“Shit,” Harry mewled and instinctively bucked his hips into Draco’s, leaving a wet smear over his pearly-white stomach. His thumb pressed against Draco’s tongue, making the blonde choke a little, but fuck, the way Draco rolled his eyes in pleasure was far from holy. His lashes fluttered, cheeks hollowing slightly as he let Harry push just a little deeper, as if he wanted to be filled, undone by something as simple as a thumb against his tongue. Harry could feel the heat of his breath, the slickness, the way Draco’s lips stretched around the intrusion.

Draco pulled away, sliding his finger out of his mouth painfully slowly, and Harry could go crazy just from that. A string of saliva slid down Daco’s chin, then throat, and Harry watched as it twitched with every shaky breath the blonde drew. It was intoxicating – the sight of the soft, pale skin shining and shimmering, so white it was begging to be touched, bruised and bit until it bled. He didn’t know why or how, but suddenly, his hand was over Draco’s neck, squeezing lightly. The pulse under his fingertips was fast and excited, just like his own.

Harry squeezed a little tighter.

Draco was beneath him, so pliant, so ready. His body arched slightly as if it was pleading, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the light in the most ungodly way. And he was gorgeous. He was so, so gorgeous, on the verge of breaking, as thirsting as Harry felt, just looking at him and expecting and-

Draco’s back hit the mattress, eyes clouded with mischief. Harry took it as a sign – the grip on the slim throat tightened, and Draco strained out a choked cry of pleasure.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry rasped into his boyfriend’s ear. “Merlin, you are so gorgeous.” He leaned over to press a needy kiss to Draco’s mouth. The blonde replied instantly. Deep, slow and liberating, the kiss was everything both of them ever needed and something they had craved since the moment Draco stormed out of the door and left Harry shaking and broken. It was a remedy, a promise.

Draco’s mouth tasted of mint and the chocolate they both devoured like hungry beasts just an hour earlier, and Harry was addicted. He licked into Draco’s mouth, chasing that lingering sweetness, savouring its warmth. The blonde groaned softly when Harry’s fingers dug into the skin of his neck again, jerking his hips up.

Harry almost melted.

He broke the kiss, much to Draco’s dislike, and climbed off his warm lap. He aimed a gentle slap on Draco’s thigh, and without any words, Draco understood the signal and turned around. He was on all fours, arching his back just slightly, stretching like a cat, and for some reason, it was the hottest thing Harry had ever seen. The curve of his back made Harry’s mind go blank for a second. It was so elegant and smooth, skin stretched over lean muscles, every movement graceful. His new tattoo – a simplistic narcissus flower, its stem curving around his lower spine – was still dark and vibrant, such a sharp contrast with the whiteness of his complexion. It made Harry’s mouth water.

He placed a hand between Draco’s legs, watching contently as he shifted into a wider stance, waiting to be ruined and destroyed, but Harry had something else in mind. He parted Draco’s cheeks and, with a smirk, pressed the tip of his tongue against Draco’s hole.

The blonde clenched, a beautiful cry escaping his lips. “Fuck, what are you-”

Harry shushed him with a slow and deliberate lick. He circled the rim teasingly, bathing in the sound of Draco’s moans as he continued to abuse the sensitive skin. Draco’s legs shook, and Harry had to hold him in place so he wouldn’t jerk away, but there was something so arousing about the way the blonde reacted to every single touch. He slowly wriggled his tongue against the tight ring of Draco’s entrance, tasting and taking and shivering when Draco pressed back against him.

He thrust in and out slowly, tonguing inside, outside, and everywhere he could as Draco quivered violently. He was well aware of the drool dropping down his chin, but he couldn’t stop – not with the way Draco wailed and screamed. He was nuts about how his name sounded on Draco’s lips, the desperation and need it was laced with. Draco’s voice, even though still velvety, was now at least an octave higher and raw, unfiltered. When Draco’s muscles contracted around Harry’s tongue, he, too, couldn’t suppress the loud, throaty moan.

“Fuck, Potter!” the blonde rasped out, his eyes shut tightly and head thrown between his arms. “Yes, oh God!”

If there was anything Harry loved the most, it would definitely be Draco Malfoy shaking and whimpering. It was such a pure sound he wanted to listen to it for the rest of his life, and he knew he could if only he planned to stay. Every keen made his decision easier. He was sure now. He was so sure he felt like an idiot for not realising it sooner.

Harry leaned back, observing with a small smile how Draco’s hole clenched and relaxed in the absence of his tongue.

The blonde shuddered, his elbows giving up and sending him face-first into the mattress. “No, please.”

“Turn around.”

Draco obeyed. His face was flushed and eyes wide, lips bruised from how much he worried them with his teeth, and it was the most beautiful Draco had ever been. Harry pecked his forehead, grinning from ear to ear as he climbed on top of him again. He took a hungry glance at Draco’s cock – stiff and long and gorgeous, leaking precum, the tip swollen and red.

“Merlin, you’re so…” he huffed out. The blonde’s prick might’ve as well be the best thing Harry had ever seen. It was curved just the right way, catching the soft light from the lamp on their bedside table, twitching and jolting in anticipation.

Harry wasted no time lowering himself onto Draco’s perfect dick. He slid on effortlessly, even without any lube, the cold, wet sensation of Draco’s precum sending a cool, sobering wave over him. Harry rode him slowly at first, enjoying how well they fit together, feeling every single millimetre of Draco’s length. He was floating in nothingness, the world reduced to Draco’s eyes and the hands on his hips, guiding Harry.

But he didn’t want to be guided, no.

He took a firm hold of Draco’s hands, pinning them above his head, murmuring an incantation. Draco’s wrists were suddenly tied to the bedframe with thin cords, and Merlin, the way Draco’s eyes darkened with carnal lust should have been illegal.

“Harry,” he mewled out, pushing his hips up to meet Harry in his slow movements, wishing he would stop playing around and ride him senseless.

Harry shook his head, “Stop moving.”

“But you’re killing me,” Draco whined, then shivered at the sinister smirk his response seemed to conjure on Harry’s face.

“I know,” and he pulled himself up so that Draco’s cock slid out of him completely. He hovered over it, then pressed against it, letting the flushed tip slide in. He stayed like that, ignoring Draco’s miserable shrieks, still grinning evilly at the state he had his boyfriend in. He loved pleasing Draco. He loved being his little fucktoy, loved arching for him, spreading open for him, but he also loved having the blonde shake under him, just the way he was now. It was a reminder that, even after months and countless shags, he still found Harry as attractive as he claimed, his body responding to every single one of Harry’s touches.

Draco’s hips bucked impatiently, and Harry groaned, finally letting his weight drop in full force. He was immediately met with a loud scream – “Shit, yes!” – and only giggled as he lifted himself up, steadily quickening his pace. He had to readjust himself on his hands for it to be more comfortable, bouncing his arse in a rather feminine manner, not that he cared. The important thing was how Draco clenched his fists, tried to free himself of the magical ropes that weren’t budging, rather tightening around his wrists some more. Harry could already see the bruises forming, soft patches of red skin that Draco would wear around for a couple of days, marking him as Harry’s.

Harry found out he needed more. He needed to feel Draco deeper, swallow him whole, make him break down in tears. He shifted clumsily and set his body weight on his heels, opting to ride Draco in a squatted position. He must’ve looked ridiculous – he imagined himself like a frog, jumping up and down, such an unpleasant view that he was entirely surprised when Draco downright shrieked, his voice almost girl-like.

“Potter,” he panted, “Yes, fuck, you’re so good!” He was loud, his words slurring and blending together, and that was exactly the way Harry wanted him. “Harry!” he screamed again, probably for everyone in the house to hear. Harry was sure even Ron wouldn’t sleep through this. Maybe Javier would… he was used to it by now.

Harry sank onto Draco’s balls with a loud grunt. “Now,” he growled, “Say it now.”

Draco, a gasping mess, all sweaty and flushed, didn’t need to be told twice. He jerked his hips up, not caring about Harry’s reaction anymore as long as he got to feel more. “God, Harry, I…” he tried, but was interrupted by a loud moan from his own mouth. Harry’s muscles tensed around his prick, squeezing and releasing rhythmically with the movement of his hips. And Draco was dangerously close, his balls tightening painfully. With all his strength – and he didn’t know how, maybe it was the residual magic in his blood – he tore the binding cords apart, hands shooting on Harry’s firm buttocks, lifting him, then lowering him to his liking. He was on the verge of imploding a moment later. “I love you!” he cried out, “I love you so much, Potter, fuck!”

The words seemed to have a strong effect on Harry. He came all over Draco’s chest not long after hearing the confession, clenching around his prick, sending him over the edge, too. Harry collapsed on top of Draco, not giving a single thought to the puddle of sweat and spunk now smearing between their bodies with every twitch of a muscle. Harry was too happy to notice. And apparently, so was Draco.

“I love you,” the blonde said as he pressed a soft kiss into Harry’s hair. Draco’s fingers gently combed through it as they lay there, tangled in each other. Harry’s chest was still heaving, but the exhaustion felt good – comforting even. Draco rested his nose against Harry's forehead, whispering again, “I adore you so much, Harry Potter, that sometimes, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Well,” Harry sighed, exhausted, “I s’pose this is a good way of getting your energy out.”

Draco laughed, that clear, melodic sound that made Harry’s heart flutter. “You’re horrible.”

“I love you,” Harry finally said and closed his eyes.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

In Monaco, Harry had finally made up his mind. He had never been more certain of a decision in his life. This was the first time he would allow himself to be selfish, and he was so glad it was with Draco, of all people.

They chased each other around the streets of Monaco, two fools racing as if they didn’t have a single care in the world. Harry was surprised how well his Silvia competed against the monstrous Viper. He was constantly tailing Draco, driving mere inches behind him just the way Draco hated it, smirking at him when he noticed two cold eyes peeping at him through the rearview mirror.

Harry was totally mesmerised by the city – he knew the race track was an actual part of it, but he hadn’t expected it to be open for regular traffic. It’s an actual street; how cool is that?! If he tried hard enough, he could imagine competing against Draco in a real race, if only he weren’t so set on drifting. And yes, Harry had decided to take up drifting, maybe not professionally at first, but he’d get there.

Once they were seated in a nice restaurant overlooking Port Hercule, Harry grinned at Draco. “I’m staying.”

“What do you mean?” Draco looked at him, brow furrowing in surprise for a moment before a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He played with the hem of his tailored shirt as if he was nervous about the answer Harry was about to give him.

“You know what I mean,” the brunette rolled his eyes and adjusted his own overly-expensive shirt, “Fuck Defence. Fuck Hogwarts. I want to be with you. Forever.”

Draco’s eyes shone in the golden sunlight. They were vibrant and sincere when he opened his mouth, “Forever.”

Chapter Text

Hello !

Firstly, I'd like to apologise for not being active and abandoning this work. Things at school/work/in my personal life haven't been great, and I've sort of lost all motivation to write. I'm really sorry to those who genuinely liked this story and expected an update, but sadly, this is not it. (yet!) I'm doing a bit better, for those wondering, and I'm steadily getting back to writing - I have several projects planned and in progress, so I'm guessing you'll be getting a new story by the end of the year, if everything goes smoothly. I can't promise anything, though, since y'know life and shit :')) But I'll try to get as much written as possible.

Secondly, this does not mean I'm giving up on this... whatever this fanfic is. As much as I enjoyed it at first, I’ve kind of fallen out of love with it, mainly because my writing style has changed a bit, and there are many things I would like to change about the storyline/the way it's written. So! I will be rewriting this mediocrity of a book little by little. I'm also really torn between finishing it as is (with cars) and adding a bit of magic to spice things up (which means more chapters and a more complex storyline, but I feel like this way all the aspects I wanted to highlight would be lost). Either way, I'm a people pleaser, and if there still are any people to please, please lmk which would be better.

I'm really sorry for my hiatus, and I hope I'll be able to update and create some more. As a bit of compensation, I can spoil that I have 2.5 drarry fics and a jegulus fic in the making. Again, no promises, since I'm a bit not well in the head :D. 

That being said, I hope you've been well <33

-e