Chapter Text
Harry rose effortlessly. Where was he? Everything felt bubbly and unreal, he didn’t feel any pain or discomfort that he supposed that he should be feeling.
Looking around, he found that he wasn’t in the bathroom anymore, nor was he in the bedroom that he shared with his newfound crush. Harry was for some reason in the Great Hall, alone, with no clue as to why or when he’d arrived here. The Hall was empty, not even a ghost to be seen hiding in one of the corners or underneath one of the tables.
He wasn’t at the Gryffindor table, either. He was at the Slytherin table, directly where Harry knew for a fact Draco sat throughout their younger years at Hogwarts. The tables were completely clear, not a single plate nor silverware anywhere in the Hall.
Harry snapped his head around as he sensed something - someone come into his proximity. He didn’t know why he would’ve expected it to be anybody else when he was confronted with the result, as anytime that Harry was least expecting it, this bastard seems to make an entrance.
Draco strode into the Hall with a large smile on his face, making a B-line straight for him. His steps held confidence and Harry couldn’t have wished for a better thing to come out of this experience. That was until the man started to withdraw his clothing as he walked.
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Draco undid his shirt from the bottom upwards, fiddling with each button so delicately that it made Harry want to reach for his fingers and bombard them with butterfly kisses. The shirt was creased until he took it off and it reminded Harry deeply of their brief encounter on what he was considering “their special chair.” Uncharacteristically, he dropped the shirt onto the ground and stepped on it, on it, not over it, as he reached down for his zipper. Harry took the brilliant opportunity to gape at Draco’s form - amazingly in shape without a single blemish to be seen. His nipples stood out beautifully, and Harry felt no shame in staring at them as he salivated, desperate to get his mouth on the gorgeously blush buds.
“Harry,” he purred seductively as he got closer and closer to him. Harry wondered why it was taking him ever so long to reach him. “Do you like to watch me?”
Harry couldn’t speak and so he nodded in a response, his mouth and throat far too dry to even attempt to conjure a word. His cock pulsed in his pants and he dared to look away from Draco to find out that he wasn’t even wearing trousers, nor a shirt. All he had on was his favourite pair of lucky pants, and for some odd reason, he didn’t find himself feeling at all self-conscious. He knew that he definitely didn’t want to go and change now anyway, because that would mean missing this wonderful show.
Speaking of missing the show.
When Harry looked back up, Draco was no longer wearing his trousers. He wasn’t naked though, either, though that definitely wasn’t to Harry’s disappointment. What was in front of his eyes was far more… interesting.
The man was holding a black feather duster in his hands and he looked like he knew damn well how to use it. Placed perfectly on his head was the traditional lacey garment that Harry was sure that he’d seen worn by the scantily clad women in some of Neville’s magazines. On his feet were painful but fucking sexy looking high-heeled shoes accompanied by fishnet stockings that hid little to no skin at all anyway, reaching just about his mid-thigh area, of which Harry was able to see perfectly well due to the fucking dress that he was wearing to top the outfit off. The dress was black and white in different places, shorter than a Goblin since it showed off a bloody garter belt underneath the skirt. On it was a ruffled white apron, and Harry had never felt so confused, aroused, and amused at once.
“Isn’t it dirty in here, Harry?” Draco asked him in a low and sultry voice. “So, so dirty?”
Harry didn’t even think to reply as he witnessed Draco climb up onto the Slytherin table, crawling along the polished wood as he seemingly tried to dust away anything that he was imagining was on the surface in front of him. He was making his way over to him, Harry realised with a jump in his heart, and he could practically feel himself start to drool. He noticed, as Draco drew closer, that he wasn’t wearing gloves along with his outfit and that just wasn’t very acceptable, because due to Harry’s knowledge extensive knowledge of French fucking Maids, (thanks, Neville,) the outfit wasn’t complete without gloves.
“You’re not wearing gloves.” He scowled.
“You’re right.” Draco grinned wickedly, settling himself down in front of Harry’s standing posture at the table, and he gazed deeply at Harry’s body. He pressed his bare hands onto Harry’s hips, tucking the dainty fingers into the waistband of his underwear. “It’s just so that I can feel you properly when I do this.”
And Harry felt like he’d entered literal fucking Heaven.
*
“Potter!” Draco yelled out and Harry had never heard such a horrible noise in his life. His head was banging like he’d been bombed to hell and back, and he could already feel some bile rising up his throat.
“Dr…” Harry opened his eyes but they failed to fixate on anything, his eyeballs rolling around as if they were loose. “Draco… Is that you?”
“Who the fuck else would it be?” Draco took Harry’s face in his palms and rubbed his cheeks with his thumbs lightly. “Does this help?”
Harry allowed the warmth flood his senses and his head suddenly felt as if he was floating. His head felt better already, he definitely found this remedy better than a hangover potion. “Yes…” he said happily.
“Then I have half a mind to stop. Look at me now.” He still held up Harry’s head. “It’s your own fault that you feel like that, you know. We all warned you about drinking too much.”
“Yeah…” Harry said dreamily. “Draco… Where am I?”
“The bathtub.”
Frowning, he asked, “Why?”
“You didn’t quite make it to bed. You woke me up with your bleeding panting.”
“What?” he said, and a rush of realisation and embarrassment flooded over him when he remembered his dream. That was a dream and not some random distant memory that he’d suppressed, he hoped. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I would have placed a privacy–”
“Shut up.” Draco shook his head, gently rubbing Harry’s jawline. “It’s alright. Aside from the fact that it’s seven in the morning, I could think of far worse things to wake up to.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“No, I’m lying to you for my pure entertainment,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Do you think that you’ll be fine if I let go now?”
“Er…” Harry grinned. “No? I think you’ll have to hold on for a while more.”
“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and withdrew his hands. He was still close to him, and even his presence was a reassurance. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Good.” Malfoy nodded. “Now, if I was able to, I’d hit you right now.”
Harry released a sigh. “Should I even ask why?”
“The thing is, I wanted to speak with you for a reason last night and yet you decided to go and get trollied instead. Should I take that as an example of your feelings towards me?”
“No, no!” Harry said quickly. “I’m sorry. For some reason, it went straight over my head, and Ron and Hermione kept telling me about how this may not actually all be real, and that we could still fix it as if it’s a problem.”
“You’re so fixated on the fact that something will come out of this.”
“Yeah, I am. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“It’s because of the bond…”
“That’s bullshit and you know it is,” Harry snapped at him. “Why don’t you want to believe my feelings for you?”
“You’ve never told me them, that’s why.” Draco snapped his head up at him. “Did you miss the part of all of this where I told you that I’ve loved you for years and all you do is snog me and then kick me out for your girlfriend?”
“I didn’t kick you out, Draco!”
“Oh, sorry, did I get it completely wrong?” he asked sarcastically. “Have you ever stopped to think about how I feel about this entire soulmate situation?”
“Well…” Harry began to say but had to stop himself short, because frankly, no. No, he hadn’t stopped to really think about it. Harry supposed that he’d just assumed that Draco would be pleased with the situation given his confession the other week, but perhaps it went deeper than that. Perhaps Harry had been completely ignorant about this entire situation.
“I thought so.” Draco stood up from their snug position on the bathroom floor and glared down at the man. “Come on. Get up.”
“Where are we going?” asked Harry.
“I want to see just how far we can go with hurting each other before the bond stops us.”
Harry hesitantly rose from his now lonely position on the ground and brushed himself off, rolling his shoulders and his neck in an attempt to regain feeling in them. “Are you sure that that’s a good idea?”
“Right now?” Draco raised his eyebrow. “I’m positive.”
“Why would you heal my hangover if you were just planning to do this anyway?” He followed Draco back into the main room as he spoke, staring at his neck, unable to remove his eyes off of the hickey that still hadn’t faded from the man’s neck. Harry wondered about that. It surely wasn’t an act of harming the other, because the charm allowed the other person to follow the action through, but maybe it acted similarly to how the bruise on Draco’s face had done? Maybe it wouldn’t go away unless Harry touched it? He was more than eager for that to be the truth.
“Because,” Draco said, turning his head around as if he knew specifically what Harry was thinking about. “I wanted you to be fully conscious when we did this.”
“How are you planning on going about this?” Harry watched him closely as he walked to the other side of the room. “Have you thought this through?”
“Yes, Potter. I had plenty of time to think while I was being kept awake by your moaning.”
He felt his face flush completely red at that and he tensed his jaw, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah, alright. You’ve mentioned that.”
“Now,” Draco said. “Fight me.”
Harry turned again, stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding?”
“You told me that you’d fight me when I’d put on weight. Well, Potter, here I am. Weight officially gained.”
“Hardly!”
“You told me that it was great.” Draco frowned at him, looking offended.
“No, it is great, but—” Harry sighed. “It’s not enough.”
“Yes. It is enough. I’ve put on six more pounds in the last two weeks. That’s almost a whole stone since the start of this. If not now, when?”
“Draco…”
“Stop being a wuss, Potter.”
“I’m not. I’m being considerate. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But that’s the thing.” Harry could hear the smirk in his voice. “I think perhaps you do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You like it rough. You know you do. Maybe I just want to see whether or not the bond will allow that for us.”
Harry’s lips parted slightly as he realised what this was about. He’d never really thought about it himself but when he did… he supposed that Draco was right. He could see himself tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt, having him bound, perhaps… He didn’t want to let his mind wander about this now. But maybe this was less about what Harry wanted, and more about what Draco wanted. Harry wouldn’t put it past the other man to disguise this as to protect his own wicked fantasies.
“Right.” Harry nodded, willing to play along for now. “So, what, you’ve suddenly decided that you want to have a relationship between us?”
“I want to get out some of my frustrations first, if you don’t mind.” He sneered at Harry. “Listen. I told you I needed time to think, not to relax. I have been thinking.”
“And?”
“And.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I would like to pursue a sexual relationship with you.”
Something deep in Harry felt wounded at the wording of that. The lack of feeling in the sentence, the lack of romance made him feel slightly heavy-hearted, and the dull pain was coming back again.
“I can’t say I’d mind that,” Harry half-lied. “Do you need even more time to think about the other half of the relationship?”
“Yes,” he replied after a loaded moment. “I do need to have a little bit more of a think about that.”
“And until then, you want me to try and hurt you?”
“Not… like punching,” Draco said quietly as Harry stepped towards him. He watched his expression change as, even though the other man was taller than him, Harry towered over him and crowded him against the wall. “Like…”
“Like?” Harry asked. “Maybe… This?” He reached up with his right hand and slid his hand through Draco’s pretty hair, grabbing a handful and tugging on it lightly.
“No.” Draco licked his lips.
Harry smirked at him and yanked on his locks a little harder. “This better?”
“Significantly,” Draco told him as he raised his hands to Harry’s neck, smoothing the rough skin with his thumbs. “Can you try and slap me?”
Harry frowned now, beginning to drop his hands. “Why?”
“I want to see whether or not the bond knows if we’re doing it out of maliciousness or just for fun.”
“Right.” Harry chuckled. “Sure about that?”
“Yes,” Draco said as his voice lowered to a whisper. “Please hit me.”
Harry surprised himself when he found that he almost… liked the sound of the other man asking him for that. It was odd, since he didn’t want to hurt him and yet had an overwhelming urge to do what he wanted and smack him. Harry didn’t feel as if he were a sadist, he didn’t think he could be, after all of the proper sufferings that he’d seen in his life, but the thought of Draco actually getting off on the pain was one of the most arousing things that he’d ever thought he’d hear. Against his better judgement, he raised one hand up, a good distance away from Draco’s cheek.
“You want this?” he asked, feeling the deep need to confirm with him.
“Merlin, yes,” Draco rushed, his gaze seemingly fixated on only Harry’s face, as if he were trying his best to avoid looking at the threatening palm.
Harry brought his hand down quickly, so sure and frightened that he’d hurt Draco too much. He liked the idea of it, but when it came down to it, he wasn’t sure if he liked it much on the face. But somewhere else on Draco? Perhaps he wouldn’t be so upset about that.
But maybe he wouldn’t have to be, since when his hand reached about a millimetre away from his skin, Harry felt his arm spasm and lock in place.
“Fuck!” he groaned in pain and discomfort. “Touch it!”
“Why didn’t it work?” Draco huffed. “Do you hear me, bond? I want him to hit me!”
“Draco!” Harry shouted at him, holding his paralysed arm with his free hand. “Touch me!”
“It would be terribly awkward if somebody were to be lurking outside now, wouldn’t it?” Draco said as he raised his hands to Harry’s bicep, caressing it with ease. “With you screaming ‘touch me! Touch me!’”
“Very funny.” Harry rolled his eyes, watching the contrast of Draco’s perfectly pale hand against his own beautifully dark skin. “You know, you can touch my arm in places other than my muscles.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Draco asked with a teasing tone. “Come, is it starting to feel better?”
Harry’s gaze lingered on the fingers as they traced over his veins, smoothly stroking down to his forearm. “A little,” he answered.
“Good.” Draco’s thumbs caressed his wrist. “I love your skin.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “What?”
“It’s divine.”
“How?”
“It just looks warm and… inviting,” he mumbled. “Mine just seems cold.”
“It doesn’t.” Harry could feel the motion in his arm flooding back and he slid his palm over Draco’s tenderly. “Your skin is lovely.”
“You’re such a charmer.”
“It’s been said before.” Harry smirked. “Can I kiss you?”
“If you don’t, I think I’ll end up killing you.”
“You wish you could.”
Draco gazed into his eyes and gripped tightly onto Harry’s hand. “Oh, I do.”
Harry swept forward and kissed the other man as if he were never going to see him again. His hands fondled the soft skin of Draco’s neck and he pressed his fingers into the flesh slightly, just enough to make the man whimper under his touch. Harry found that he really, really liked that noise. Their lips softly and yet passionately moved with one another, and Harry felt his eyes roll in ecstasy behind the lids. Draco’s fingertips danced over the skin on Harry’s face now, tracing the roughness of his stubble over his jaw. Harry hadn’t shaved in what felt like years but was probably more like a couple days, but what could he say? He was a growing boy!
In more ways than one, it seemed. Harry could feel his cock begin to grow full and heavy in his trousers. The entire experience that was going on, Harry really couldn’t believe it. Here he was, pinning Draco Malfoy against the wall of their bedroom and snogging the life out of him and it felt so fucking surreal.
Harry felt a hesitant and yet bold tongue come from the other man’s mouth and it would just be a crime for Harry to reject it, and so he gladly met it with his own, mingling them together. Harry could taste Draco and fuck, if it wasn’t amazing, if it wasn’t one of the best things that Harry had ever had in his life.
“Fuck,” Draco whispered against his lips when he pulled away for a quick breather. He rest his forehead against Harry’s, his eyes still comfortably closed, but Harry’s were open. He gazed fondly at Draco as they both panted in unison, their hands still caressing one another.
“You alright?” Harry asked, his eyes roaming over his face. “If you want to stop—”
Harry felt as if he physically lost his voice as Draco rolled his hips forcefully against him, the hard tent in his crotch painfully evident against Harry’s thigh. He assumed that meant that that was a definite no to stopping.
“You’re fucking amazing,” Harry told him in awe. He pushed him harder against the wall by his neck, the bond allowing him to do this much. “Do you like this?”
“The neck?” Draco licked his lips, words basically incoherent. “Merlin, yes.”
Harry slotted Draco’s thigh in between his own and thrust against him, desperate for some sort of friction. Pressing their lips together again, they continued to melt against each other Harry feeling blissfully happy and aroused. If he didn’t get his - or Draco’s - hand around his cock soon then he was afraid that he’d end up finishing in his pants, as if he were sixteen again.
“Please,” Draco whimpered, his thumbs smoothing his stubble still as he nudged their noses close together. “Can I get it out?”
Assuming that Draco meant his own, because he was probably in just as much of a state as Harry was, (he certainly looked it,) Harry eagerly nodded because he’d be damned if he didn’t want to see Draco’s cock. Obviously, he did! However, he had a splendidly pleasant surprise when he found Draco slipping out of his grasp and down to the ground. He didn’t take his eyes off of Harry’s face as he lowered himself to his knees and allowed his palms to slide torturously slowly.
“Draco?” Harry said, his voice hoarse. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve wanted your cock in my throat for three years, Potter, I’m very fucking sure.”
He wasn’t going to argue with that, was he?
Unzipping his jeans, (the ones he still had on from the night before,) Harry gazed down happily at Draco with ease, hoping and wishing that he wouldn’t tease him too much because he wasn’t sure just how much of this he could take. He was almost positive that he was going to orgasm soon and Draco hadn’t even touched him, but just the sweet noise of Draco saying “cock” over and over again was enough to push him to the edge. And seeing him down there, on his bare knees that he just knew were going to be bruised after spending time on that carpet. It had already given Harry carpet burn enough times in the past three weeks that he’d ended up having to resort to wearing slippers all the time, or socks at the very least.
Draco took hold of the hands that had undone Harry’s flier and pressed the palms of them to his cheeks. With hot and innocent eyes, Draco ogled Harry’s erection that was poking out beneath his underwear, the fabric stretching out with his cock. He pressed his mouth to the outline of his cock, kissing the tip very lightly before he mouthed at it with his open lips, his tongue rubbing over the tent and creating a small wet patch on the fabric. Harry rubbed over his smooth cheeks with his thumbs as he gazed down at him, at the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen in his life.
Draco licked a hot line up the shaft and locked eyes with Harry. He kept his tongue out and Harry watched some saliva manifest onto the fabric upon his dick again, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if most of the wet patch was spit or his own pre-cum.
“Take it out,” Harry told him quietly. The flush over Draco’s cheeks made him look all the more alluring, the shimmer on his lips absolutely jaw-dropping. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d resisted those fucking lips for the past how-many years he’d known this man.
Draco followed his orders perfectly, as Harry had expected he would’ve done. There was something odd about Draco that Harry just couldn’t put his finger on, as the regular for Draco was normally just for him to be less than complacent and far more resistant. Now… he was perfect at doing what he was told. Back to being a ‘teacher’s pet.’ He pinched the waistband of Harry’s underwear and pulled it down to his thighs, his eyes visibly lighting up as the man’s hard and thick cock bounced out of its fabric cage and into Draco’s hungry gaze.
“Fucking hell, Potter,” Draco whispered in admiration, licking his lips at the sight in front of him. “This is impressive.”
“Thanks,” Harry replied awkwardly, his hands moving to run through Draco’s hair. That seemed to egg him on even further, Harry noticed, since as soon as the man leant into the touch his hands were being raised from their position on his lap up to wrap his fingers around Harry’s cock. Either Draco’s hands were smaller than anticipated, or Ginny just had incredibly large hands, but Harry found that he rather enjoyed the sight of Draco’s dainty fingers around his dick. It was a lot more flattering than his own around it, that was for sure.
Draco slowly began to rub just underneath the head with the pad of his thumb, massaging it delightfully as his remaining fingers caressed the shaft carefully. His delicate fingertips felt like his dick was cascading into Heaven right there in that very moment and he tightened his grip on Draco’s hair, drawing out a raw gasp.
“You like that?” Harry asked.
“You fucking know I do,” Draco answered, taking Harry’s cock into his palm now and sliding it up and down the entire length with ease. “You like this?”
“How could I say no?”
Draco smirked, telling Harry that he’d given the man the answer that he’d wanted. His hands were so smooth, Harry thought to himself, slightly sweaty from the heavy atmosphere but he liked that - he liked the feeling of moisture on his dick. He could think of a far, far better way of getting moisture on it, if he was honest, though.
It was as if Draco had read his mind, and Harry wondered briefly if the bond between them had triggered some sort of legilimens because not one second later, Draco extended his tongue out of his mouth and gently lapped the underside of Harry’s head, resting the weight of it on his tongue. He paused as he looked up at Harry’s face, presumably for some sort of reaction, but Harry felt far too distracted to even consider taking his eyes off of that damned mouth of his.
Slowly, Draco swirled his tongue around the tip of his dick while holding it up with his fist. He pressed it flat to the slit, tonguing it and licking it and only being further encouraged by the soft sounds that Harry was making in return. His grip tightened in Draco’s hair and the man on his knees whimpered, hot breath tingling on the moisture on his cock.
“Holy fuck,” Harry breathed out, resisting the urge to drop his head back because as if he’d miss watching a single second of this. He bit down hard on his lip in an attempt to suppress all of the noises that he knew would otherwise sneak out, although some managed to anyway, and watched with intensity as Draco shook his entire head in order to rub the tip of his cock over his tongue.
It was when Draco pursed his lips and gently kissed the head of his cock that Harry felt his knees go weak. He held out one hand and leant it on the wall so that he could at least have a small slither of support as he felt his knees buckle. His grip on the man’s hair tightened considerably and he watched him smirk cockily, a raised eyebrow to accompany it as if he were saying, really? Already?
It’s not like Harry could help it. With Ginny, it had always been a kind of in-out situation, however, Draco seemed to know exactly what he was doing and it was slightly frustrating that Harry didn’t know how he knew. Draco had said that he’d never done anything with a man before, hadn’t he? So why was it that he was so damn good at something that he hadn’t even started yet?
Harry would be quite lost if he had to do this in return. But… he supposed that he’d have to, wouldn’t he? There was no doubt that Draco was aroused as well, if not from the act of pleasing Harry then he was sure that he’d be aroused from his hair being tugged like crazy and Harry’s hand at his throat. Which… Harry could find himself liking to do as well. He hoped that Draco was just alright with a handjob, nonetheless, because Harry wasn’t sure about whether or not he was ready for having a cock in his mouth just yet.
“Have you done this before?” Harry asked, just because he needed to hear it again. He just couldn’t believe that he would be better than Ginny, who’d done it to Harry several times.
“I told you,” Draco replied, and his breath was still hot on Harry’s dick. “I’ve never been with a man.”
“I don’t believe you,” Harry said and used his hand to push the man’s head back, so he was looking at him in the eye.
“I’m not lying to you, Potter. I’ve learnt things from literature, is all. And I can imagine what would feel good on myself.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Why? Do you think I’m so absolutely good that I would’ve had years of experience?”
“Shit,” Harry whispered to himself in disbelief. “You’re perfect.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Draco said, and tilted his head back down against the force of Harry’s hand. His mouth opened now - wide - and Harry gasped as he felt his cock become engulfed by heat and moisture. Only the head was in and yet Harry felt as if he was going to lose it, and he panted in bliss. Seemingly encouraged by Harry’s reaction, Draco delved further, bringing his mouth further down Harry’s cock and so cleverly avoiding hitting or grazing it with his teeth that Harry had to wonder whether or not he’d practised on something before, such as a lollipop or ice cream cone. That image in his head didn’t much help his trying-to-calm-down state.
He kept fucking going, taking Harry down into his throat and furrowing his eyebrows as he did so, concentrating probably on not gagging or making a fool of himself, but Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. It was natural to do, after all, and yet Draco seemed to be resisting those instincts brilliantly.
Once Draco’s face was comfortably nestled within the short hairs at the base of Harry’s cock and he was releasing short and amazing whimpers, Harry had to take a moment to make sure that he wasn’t going to topple over onto the ground. He took long and deep breaths, his grip tight on Draco’s hair, enjoying the ecstasy of his cock being surrounded by such a tight and wet paradise. Don’t even get him started on the sight that was kneeling before him - Draco Malfoy with tears in his eyes and ruffled hair beyond compare, stuffed mouth and throat, cheeks flushed scarlet and resembling the colour of Harry’s bedsheets.
Fuck, Harry thought, because that had reminded him of the sight of Draco all wrapped up in his - his - bedsheets, and he wondered if he was ever going to be able to see that again, only in a different kind of situation. Would this strictly sexual thing that they had going on mean that the two of them would be able to fuck? Actually, properly fuck?
Fucking hell. His line of thought got disrupted by the feeling of Draco withdrawing a little, again fighting against Harry’s hand, which he’d completely forgotten was restricting his movement. The air on his cock where Draco had previously been covering felt cold but the heat on his head was enough to keep him distracted from it. His tongue was extremely active in the moments that his lips paused moving up and down his dick, rolling around the head, rubbing the underside and making Harry feel just wonderful.
Harry moaned, his breathing speeding up as Draco’s pace sped up as well. He watched the man’s hair wave with the air as the quickly bobbed his head up, down, up, down the length, making Harry’s toes curl.
“Draco,” he panted, his jaw twitching so his mouth remained open, and his eyes squeezed shut. “Draco, fuck.”
Draco hummed in acknowledgement, sending a shiver straight up Harry’s spine and a twang to his cock. Harry could feel his vocal cords vibrate when he made a noise, and he was whimpering a lot. It was when he reached up aimlessly and gripped on tightly to Harry’s shirt that Harry gasped quickly and abruptly, shaking his head.
“Draco,” he groaned in warning. “Draco, get off, get off. I’m going to fucking cum.” He tried to push his forehead with the base of his palm but Draco didn’t budge his head even a little, instead, wiggling his tongue even more, as if he wanted—
Harry choked out his loud and unstoppable moans as he experienced what he considered the best orgasm of his entire life, spilling out his cum into Draco’s throat and bucking his hips forward, pushing his cock even deeper than it had been before. Draco’s eyes were squeezed shut, but Harry felt him gladly swallow all of the contents that he shot out into him. It was the hottest thing Harry had been part of. Ever.
“Fuck,” Harry mumbled as he came down from his high. He ran his fingers gently through Draco’s hair, pulling away from the man and tucking his now flaccid dick back into his underwear. He bent down while watching Draco heave, and pressed his palms to the rosy cheeks. His face was truly a picture, eyes still glossy and cheeks redder than they had been before, his cheeks puckered and swollen, impossibly pink. Harry felt an overwhelming urge to kiss them. “That was amazing,” he told him. “You were amazing.”
“I should hope so,” he replied with a croaky voice, a hand raising to cover one of Harry’s. Harry tried not to smile too much at the action. “I can’t believe I swallowed all of that.”
“Er, me neither,” Harry said sheepishly. “You can go and sit on my bed. I’ll get you some tea to make your throat feel better.”
Draco gazed at him then, his eyebrows twitching down and his fingers curling inwards. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I mean,” Harry continued, “After I take care of your problem.”
Draco looked surprised. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped only slightly, but it was still evident. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m not going to just leave you hanging, am I?”
Draco gulped and slowly allowed a little smile to spread over his face. “I hope you don’t expect me to thank you.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Harry slowly smoothed his hand from Draco’s cheek to his neck, and he gently pressed him against the wall once again. He manoeuvred his legs to get more comfortable, no longer on his knees but sat on his butt, legs spread in front of him. Harry couldn’t help but get slightly distracted by the red marks that were already on his knees, his mouth watering. Raising his hand again, he took a moment to just stare at his knees, beautifully knobbly and marked before he lowered it onto Draco’s cloth-covered crotch. Flickering his gaze back to the man’s face, he watched him bite his lip and bounded forwards. He caught Draco’s lips in a kiss once again, not minding the subtle taste of himself. Harry gripped tightly onto the dent of Draco’s cock in his underwear, using his thumb to rub along the side of it.
“Potter,” Draco whispered against the moisture on Harry’s lips before re-attaching them together. He moved their lips together, mauling Draco’s bottom lip and occasionally taking it in between his teeth, but never too hard. He didn’t want the bond to suddenly paralyse his jaw. He licked into the lips that were captivating him so and hummed in approval once he felt the other man’s tongue touch his, dance with his.
Draco arched his hips upwards, into Harry’s grasp and Harry took that as a sign to go even further than he already was. With a deep breath, Harry nudged his fingers underneath the waistband of Draco’s underwear and slid them past the short patch of hair that he felt until he delicately wrapped them around Draco’s cock. The reaction he got from that was full of pure perfection, and he looked as if he was made to be worshipped.
Draco snaked his hands up Harry’s neck, settling them there comfortably with his thumbs brushing the bristles on his jaw. He moaned against Harry as he pushed his cock into his hand, urging Harry to move and he was more than happy to comply. He tried to imagine how he touched himself - softly at first, with a light grip before he sped up with hot breaths and sweaty palms. Once he felt himself getting close, he would tighten his grip and give strong, slow strokes.
The marvellous noises that Draco was making were absolute music to Harry’s ears and he thought about comparing it to a beautiful night at the opera, or the sweet melody of a harp, and Harry was in the audience prepared to give a standing ovation for the outstanding performance. The lips that he was feeling were giving in to him and Harry loved it. He could feel the vulnerability in Draco underneath him, but could also feel both of them as equals. He didn’t want to have Draco feel as if he was any less than him because damn, if Harry didn’t value the man higher than he ever had before while knowing him. It was incomparable how much Harry wished to hold him like this forever.
Harry’s arm motions sped up as he rubbed his hands up and down the other man until he was no longer able to kiss anymore, his mouth hung open like a pleased skull. His lips twitched as he breathed obscenities and whimpers into Harry’s mouth, his hand sliding up to the messy brown curls and anchoring itself in them, the locks wedged carelessly and tightly between his fingers. Harry gazed down at the man’s ecstasy as he felt his glasses slip down his nose from the sweat that had formed on his face and couldn’t quite believe how he had gotten so lucky.
As he felt the familiar wetness squirt over his fist and heard the unfamiliar yet unforgettable gasps splutter out of Draco’s mouth, Harry managed to catch him in one last kiss for the occasion. It was wet and messy and one of the best that Harry had ever had.
On the come down, Harry pulled away first, gaze flickering between Draco’s half-lidded eyes as he muttered a quiet cleaning charm. He’d never seen Draco look so worn out, not after the fire or after finding out that he was Harry’s soulmate, or even in the bathrooms in sixth year, when Harry had damn near killed the poor guy. Sweat was sticking his hair to his forehead and his lips were still impossibly red and swollen, from the blowjob still and now the kissing too. He was pretty much collapsed against the wall, chest heaving heavily and a small twinge of a smile on his lips.
“You look gorgeous right now,” Harry whispered to him, overly aware of the feeling of Draco’s sweaty palms still on his neck and in his hair. He licked his lips as he examined him, his nightshirt dishevelled and his underwear slightly stained. His dress reminded Harry of the time, probably not long past eight in the morning. On a goddamn Saturday. It was a crime to be awake at this time, and on top of that, hadn’t Hermione told him she’d come and see how he was in the morning?
“You don’t look half bad yourself,” he replied to him, putting all of his weight on Harry as he gripped onto his neck again, using it to pull himself up. When back on his knees, he hissed out of pain and shot a glare at Harry. “My knees hurt.”
“That’s my fault?” Harry chuckled. “You’re the one who decided to go down there.”
“For your benefit!”
“Really? I thought you said that you’d been fantasising about having my cock in your throat for… how many years was it?”
“Fuck off.” Draco scowled at him. “I really want to pull your hair right now.”
“Too bad that you can't.”
“Shut up. Touch my knees.”
Harry hummed. “That’s a no-go.”
“What?” Harry watched Draco’s jaw tense. “Touch them!”
“They can’t be that bad.” He raised his hands, gently caressing the other man’s arms. He took his wrists in his grip, removing his arms from over his shoulders. “I think your knees look good with them.”
Draco dropped his jaw, one eyebrow raised. “You fucking sadist.”
He shrugged, smirking. “And you’re the one that’s into feeling pain. Why don’t you just keep them there?”
“These won’t just fade away, you know that! These will be here for eternity unless you touch them!”
“I’ll bargain with you,” Harry said suggestively as he stood up. He held out one hand, ready for Draco to take it so he could pull him up. “Give me another kiss, and I’ll touch your knees.”
Draco smirked discreetly as he grabbed hold of Harry’s hand. “You dog.”
“What can I say?” He pulled Draco up onto his feet but didn’t let go, holding his body flush against Harry’s. He tried not to let the height difference get to him. “You can’t expect me to resist.”
“You’re a sneaky man.”
“As are you.”
“I’m a Slytherin. What’s your excuse?”
“I was almost sorted into Slytherin,” he announced. “That’s my excuse.”
“You were not.” The look on Draco’s face was a picture. “Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying. First year, the Sorting Hat told me that I would be really good in Slytherin.”
“Why weren’t you placed there, then?”
“I asked not to be. I wanted to be in Gryffindor.”
He snarled at him. “Ugh. Figures. That’s such a Gryffindor thing to do, you know.”
“You know what a Slytherin thing to do is?” Harry grinned. “Talking, talking, talking so that you don’t have to kiss me.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I think I’ve made that quite clear.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He lifted Draco’s chin up slightly, stroking it with his thumb.
“You’re bargaining with me. I hate giving into bargains.”
“Is it worth it?”
Draco gulped. “Stop it. You’ll make me say something embarrassing.”
“Do it,” Harry dared. “I’ll bet that I can top it.”
“I was going to— No, no, I can’t.”
“If I heal your knees, will you say it?”
“Nope. Kiss me so that you will, though.”
Harry slid his hand around to the back of Draco’s neck and brought him forwards, kissing him again as he had done beforehand. He could get drunk on the feeling of Draco’s lips, his saliva like nectar and his lips like plush pillows.
“Fucking…” Draco pulled away after a minute, breathing heavily. “Don’t get me excited again.”
“But it’s just so tempting, isn’t it?” Harry smirked at him, tilting his head and leaning forwards into Draco’s neck. “So… is this.”
“Potter,” Draco huffed, but he didn’t try to push Harry away again. “That isn’t where I want you to touch me.”
Harry responded by kissing the skin on Draco’s neck and snaking one arm around his waist. He could feel the man slowly relaxing into his touch and so he rested his palm on the small of his back, just above the rump of his ass.
“Watch your hand,” he warned him. “You’re banned from touching there until you touch my knees.”
One more peck to his throat. “That’s just unfair,” Harry said.
“Touch them, Potter.”
Harry nudged his head forwards a little, taking the lobe of Draco’s ear in between his teeth. “What’s my name?” he asked.
“I kissed you. I held up my end of the deal, Potter.”
“Who?”
“Potter…”
“Sorry?”
“Harry! Merlin, Harry! Just touch me, will you?”
Harry paused as he refocused his eyes once again. He knew that he hadn’t locked the door when he’d come in the night before but he would’ve thought that Draco had had some sense to do so. Or at the very least, he would’ve thought that his two best friends would have the common sense or decency to knock on the bloody door before letting themselves in!
“Oh,” said Hermione, eyes wide as her grip on the door handle visibly tightened. Ron was behind her, the bags under his eyes showing his exhaustion (as he clearly hadn’t gotten up this early of his own accord, thanks, Hermione,) but the look of raw shock on his face made him look like he was suddenly wide awake.
“Bloody hell,” he said with a gaping wide mouth, and Harry hopped away from Draco faster than a lightning bolt.
“Have you guys never heard of knocking?” he demanded quickly, discarding his glare so that he could turn around and quickly button up his jeans.
“Clearly you two have,” joked Ron, and he grunted as Hermione presumably elbowed him for the poorly timed comment.
“Did you want something?” Draco asked, cheeks flushed to the core the colour of scarlet. His jaw was tensed and he folded his arms, seemingly unbothered about the lack of bottoms that he wasn’t wearing. “We were busy.”
“We came to check on Harry,” Hermione told them before Ron could get in another word. “He was in a state last night and we know that you’ve both not been on good terms.”
“And you thought that I’d perhaps cursed him? Or made him sleep on the windowsill?”
“Don’t be stupid. Our worries were completely founded. He was talking nonsense last night and you were glaring daggers at him the entire time.”
“So you thought eight a.m. was a suitable time to do this?” Harry interjected quickly, not wanting either of them to get riled up. However, that would be a truly entertaining argument, Harry thought.
“I know, right?” Ron complained with a grunt. “I thought that I was getting up to have pre-breakfast breakfast. If you know what I mean.”
Harry grimaced. “Gross.”
“We wanted to speak with Malfoy, actually,” Hermione spoke up again, keeping her eyes firmly on Draco.
“Did we?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” she said. “We’ve found out some information on the bond and wanted to know whether or not you could help us.”
“Have we?” Ron asked.
“Sorry, why was I not to know about this?” Harry scowled at them. “Why is Draco more likely to have information than I am?”
“He’s a pureblood, Harry. He’s grown up around magic and might’ve heard of it somewhere.”
“What is it?” Draco sighed. “Hurry, if you would. I’m awfully tired.”
Ron huffed. “So sorry we disturbed your sleep.”
“Quonium tu solus,” Hermione said boldly. “Have you heard of it?”
Draco furrowed his brows, examining Hermione’s face for a second. “I’m surprised that you haven’t heard of it yourself, Granger.”
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“It really shows how much attention you all paid at Wealsey’s brother’s wedding.” He rolled his eyes. “Quonium tu solus is a quote taken straight from a pureblood marriage ceremony. You must declare quonium tu solus before you’re allowed to be married. What does this have to do with anything?”
“I’ve been doing some research,” Hermione said as if nobody was already aware. “It turns out that the bond that you both have is called quonium tu solus, and you’re not the first people that it’s affected.”
Harry pretended like he didn’t already know that. “What did you find out about it?”
“Well, thank you, Malfoy, I did actually already know that it comes from a pureblood wedding ceremony. I just needed to confirm since the library holds no books and Ron is terrible with marriage stuff.”
Ron held up his hands as if to say ‘I’m guilty!’
Hermione continued, “I still have a lot more to find out about this, like whether or not it’s actually breakable.” Harry looked down, then. “But it’s a lot of help to actually know what it’s called. However… from this… I’m sorry, but I think that in the eyes of magic, you two are officially married.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “What,” he deadpanned.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco spluttered. “None of this happens to actual married couples!”
“Well, no, and that’s why the type of magic that is festering between you two is so rare,” she explained. “You see, from what I could find, the words quonium tu solus mean—”
“For you alone,” Draco finished for her, looking down at his feet. “Merlin.”
“There’s bound to be so much more that I can uncover,” she rambled excitedly. “But it’s up to you two whether or not you want to tell McGonagall. I don’t want to tell you what to do, because it’s your business, but I think that the best decision would be to tell her.”
“Not telling us what to do at all, Hermione,” Harry said sarcastically, but there wasn’t dryness to his tone. He was thankful for her uncovering more about the bond, he really was, but to find out that he was basically fucking married? At eighteen?
“You know, it’s not a bad age to get married,” Ron commented like he’d read Harry’s mind. “Your mum and dad got married around your age, Harry.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Draco said, a frog in his throat. “I appreciate you both sharing your findings but I think that it’s time you both left, thank you.”
“Draco,” Harry scorned because they’d only just arrived and that was rude as hell, but he could understand why Draco may want to be alone. He thought that he could relate to that a little bit.
“It’s alright, Harry.” Hermione smiled at them both. “I’m sure it’s a lot to take in. We’ll see you later.”
Ron nodded as he began to follow her out of the room. “See you, mate,” he said, and closed the door behind him before Harry could reply. He took a deep gulp, unsure of how to proceed from their newly found position.
“So…” Harry said awkwardly. “Hey, husband.”
“Don’t even joke.” Draco shook his head. “This… I need to write to my mother.”
“I’m sorry that I don’t understand. I don’t understand what comes with pureblood marriages.”
“You wouldn’t,” Draco said, heading to the desk by the window and grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill.
“Can you… help me understand?” he asked sheepishly. “If we’re going to be in this?”
Draco started to scribble down words onto the parchment urgently, bent over the desk instead of using the perfectly accessible chair that was right there. Harry pinched his nose and pushed his glasses up further, shaking his head.
“Draco,” he repeated.
“Give me a second,” he snapped at him. “I need to write this!”
“What can your mother do for us? She won’t be able to help with this.”
“You don’t know that! She happens to be apart of a pureblood marriage right now, you know!”
“Not like this!”
“Just let me do this!” He turned his head around quickly, glaring at Harry until his gaze melted to form one that was melancholic and pitiful. “Please,” he whispered.
How could Harry refuse that? He paused but nodded, releasing a sigh as he sat himself down on the perch of his bed. He thought that writing to Narcissa was useless, but if it made Draco feel better then why not?
Once he’d finished, Harry was almost worried to speak up about it again. He wanted to learn about all of this, for crying out loud, and right now Draco was the best person to learn from. Harry didn’t want this bond to end. He desperately wanted to keep whatever they had going, he didn’t want a way out but for some reason, Draco didn’t seem to reciprocate this. He wanted to know what was going on in Draco’s mind! He’d told Harry that he loved him, and yet…
“We’re not married,” Draco said abruptly, interrupting Harry’s train of thought. “Pureblood marriages aren’t complete until they’re consummated fully.”
“Consummated?” Harry frowned.
“We’re not properly married until we fuck,” Draco clarified, no sugarcoating. “So, we can’t.”
“Wait.” Harry shook his head. “Why don’t you want this?”
“What?” said Draco. “Are you serious?”
“No, I’m only joking.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Potter, I’m the only Malfoy that can carry on the family name and blood. My family have been searching for a betrothed for me since I was born. I am already to be married and carry the name onwards! I can’t have this!”
“You’re gay,” Harry exclaimed. “You can’t carry on the family!”
“I can!”
“That’s gonna be pretty difficult when you’re not even able to get it up for the woman.”
“I might be able to!”
“And when you actually get to fucking her? You won’t even be able to keep it up!”
“I might not even be gay, you know! I might be bisexual like you!”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t laugh!”
Harry laughed anyway. “You’re the gayest person I know.”
“I’ll pretend that I didn’t just hear that for the sake of favouring your looks over your ignorance.”
“Only my looks?” Harry asked.
“Stop it, Potter.”
“Should you start calling me Malfoy instead?”
“Shut up! This isn’t happening! This is not going to be a thing! Listen, my one task as a Malfoy is to bring an heir to the family, and if I can’t even do that, I’d have betrayed the family line!”
“Maybe that’s a good thing?” Harry suggested. “Malfoy’s don’t exactly hold such a humble name anymore.”
Draco scowled at him. “Watch your mouth.”
“I’m just saying. If anybody has betrayed your family line then it’s your father.”
“It’s me!” he argued. “I’ve fallen for a bleeding half-blood, and now I’m apparently half-married to one!”
“Is that such a problem?” Harry asked. “I thought that you were better than all of this pureblood shit by now.”
“I am! My family aren’t! They want me to settle down and marry a pretty pureblood woman with an excellently working womb, and here I am, sucking off the twat who ruined my father’s life!”
“Why do you care what they think?”
“They’re my family.”
“And I suppose you’d like to say that I wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“You’re so fucking confusing, Draco. You keep saying how you’re in love with me, or that you’ve fallen for me, but you don’t want to be in a relationship with me.” When the man didn’t say anything, only hung his head low, like a wilting flower, Harry continued, “Why?”
Draco looked down, clenching his fists. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answers to.”
“I do want to know.”
“Have you not thought about the consequences of this entire bond, Potter? Because me being unable to provide an heir is not the only one. You do realise that if we don’t end this then you won’t be able to marry Ginevra?” He ignored the outraged look on Harry’s face. “You’ll never be able to sleep with another woman again, find comfort with another again.”
“You’re listing these off as if they’re bad things.”
“And what the public will think? You’re their saviour, Potter. How do you think they’ll react knowing that you’re bound to a Death Eater for life?”
“Ex-Death Eater.”
“Shut up!” Draco screamed, pulling up the sleeve of his nightshirt. He exhibited the Dark Mark that stood out achingly so against his pale skin, and Harry realised that it must have been the first time that he’d actually seen it since the war. It was faded now, lighter than it had once been. It made Harry shiver still, the marking of the snake holding too much history behind it for him to look at it without flinching. He gulped, and looked away from the blemish. “Does this look like an Ex to you?” Draco was approaching a scream. “It’s still there! It’ll still be seen! Nobody is going to forget what I was, Potter, and you can’t betray any of the public that you’ve saved by doing it yourself.”
“Nobody will forget,” Harry said quietly. “But we can forgive. I’ve seen for myself that you’ve changed.”
He scoffed. “Have I?”
“Yes. You’re still an arse, but not as much as you have been. You’re not nearly as ignorant as you were before. You’re reading a muggle book, for crying out loud.”
“You can’t even look at it, can you?”
“I don’t want to look at it, particularly.”
“If you don’t want to end this fucking bond, you’re going to have to live with the fact that I have this, and it’s not coming off.” Harry gazed between his pained, glossy eyes. “Trust me, I’ve tried a lot.”
“I’m okay with that. People have to learn from their mistakes, Draco.”
“Mine just happens to be one that’s fucking colossal.”
“Perhaps. But you’re learning.”
Draco took a deep breath and dropped his sleeve down again. “You know why I’m so confused about why you want to pursue a romantic relationship? You’ve known for two minutes that you’re interested in men. You don’t have romantic feelings for me.”
“I think I’ve known for a bit longer than two minutes. I’ve come to realise that I had a bit of a crush on Cedric Diggory. And apparently you. Ron and Hermione and everybody always joked, but… it makes sense.”
“You don’t have feelings for me,” Draco repeated. “And I’m not just saying that. I wish that you did.”
“Draco,” Harry whispered as he stood up. He held out his hand in an offering for the other man to take it, but instead he just looked at it achingly as a single tear broke from his eye. “Take my hand, Draco,” he reiterated, stepping closer to Draco in an attempt to convince him.
“Why?” he asked with a broken tone.
“Trust me,” Harry said, and slowly but surely, Draco did. He reached for Harry’s hand and grasped it gently, his breathing growing heavier as he watched Harry interlock their fingers together. Harry walked then, slowly directing Draco so that he would walk alongside him, and guided him out of the door to their bedroom. It was still early now. nobody was awake this early on Saturdays and that was what Harry was relying on.
“Where are you taking me?” Draco asked once they’d escaped the walls of the castle and gotten onto the training grounds. They could see the Quidditch pitch from where they were, and Harry grinned at the absolutely perfect idea that he had in his head. It was still dark out, being winter, but the stars of Scotland gave a beautiful glow to the areas surrounding them, and damn, if Draco wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful before, then Harry would say he was ten times that now. He gazed at him as the stars illuminated his hair and his eyes, making his skin look even paler than usual. Harry cleared his throat and broke his gaze.
“For a spin,” Harry said, giving him a toothy grin before running down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch, dragging Draco behind him along the way. Harry could sense the other man getting wobbly on his feet as they proceeded to descend down the hillside, the rockiness and unsteadiness of the ground doing nothing to help them stay upright on their trek. As they delved further into the darkness of the grounds, Harry felt Draco squeeze his hand in uncertainty, and Harry squeezed his back.