Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 7/10?
Title: Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis 7/?
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 7:
After dinner, Weasley threw his arm around Draco’s shoulders and said, “I hear you’re pretty good at Wizard’s Chess, Malfoy. Fancy a game?”
Draco snorted. “Only if you want to lose.”
Everyone else laughed. Everyone. Weasley smirked at him, lacing his hands behind his head and rocking back on his feet.
“Ron is wicked on a chessboard,” Padmil Patil said. “The only one I’ve ever seen beat him is his brother George, and I’m pretty sure George knows how to cheat.”
Draco glanced over at Hermione with an eyebrow raised. A silent question of, “Is this true?”
“You spent so long thinking he was stupid because he’s a Weasley,” Granger said. “I actually can’t wait to watch.”
“I have my own board,” Weasley said. “Both black and white are pretty loyal to me. So, to be fair, I think we should use Macmillan’s board.”
“Sure, mate,” Macmillan said. “Let me grab it.”
Weasley broke away from him and crossed his arms. “Pick where you want to meet your doom, Ferret.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Dramatic much, Weasel? I don’t care where I beat you.”
Weasley’s eyes narrowed and he moved to one of the smaller tables. Draco made a show of taking off his school robes and flinging them over the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Weasley did the same with his robes and then turned the chair backwards and straddled it, crossing his too-muscley arms over the back of it. Draco sat way more properly, his back straight and legs crossed, and they glared at each other for the few seconds it took for MacMillan to return with his chessboard. Glaring was better than staring at the way his veins stood out up and down his forearms or at how his shoulder muscles looked ready to break out of his shirtsleeves.
The other eighth-years conjured, gathered, or floated over chairs and cushions to watch.
Macmillan’s board opened between them, the pieces floating to their correct spaces. He took a white pawn and a black pawn, shuffled them behind his back and held out his closed hands.
Weasley indicated that Draco should choose and he took the hand closest to him. Black. Perfect.
With no further preamble or bantering, Weasley started the game. The pieces were unfamiliar and many times offered both of them suggestions. Weasley shut them down pretty quickly, taking control of the stone players within just a few moves. Draco always watched his opponents for that. Sometimes the pieces could win or a lose a game without the wizard knowing how to properly use them. He also ignored suggestions from the black pieces.
Within a few minutes, he knew that Ronald Bilius Weasley was bloody good at Wizard's Chess. Their audience started making wagers, cheering when pieces were taken or Weasley managed to get out of a jam.
Draco did his best to ignore them, just as Weasley did, eyes never leaving the board. Eyes watching and calculating.
Bugger, Draco was fucked.
A tall strong confident Weasley was sexy. A tall strong confident and brilliant strategist Weasley? Yeah. There was no way that Draco could ever say no to that.
Truly and desperately fucked.
Weasley beat him. Draco had thought he had a chance near the end when he took Weasley’s queen, but it was just a matter of time before one of them was cornered. He barely saw it coming. Sure he had two or three more moves with his rook and queen, but Weasley tossed him into checkmate with nothing more than a bishop and the only pawn left on the board, with a knight and rook providing backup.
Draco’s king threw his crown to the board and Weasley’s bishop slid over and swung its staff right at the king’s head. He crumpled and Draco leaned away with a sigh.
Weasley crossed his arms over the back of the chair and smirked at him. “It’s about time someone actually got close to challenging me. Let me guess. You were just warming up?”
Draco lifted his chin with a defiant smirk.
“Another go?”
Draco smiled slow and predatory. “Sure, Weasel.”
The crowd groaned, but there were still people changing Galleons.
The board reset itself, and Draco concentrated on the pieces. Not the way Weasley’s forearms were lined with veins and hair and freckles. And the muscles were firm and ...
Shite.
Draco was fucked. And he absolutely loved it.
---
“So, Ferret,” Harry said just as Draco removed his shirt for bed.
“So, Scarhead,” Draco prompted and glanced at him.
Harry was staring at him, eyes flashing green a bit. “Is it okay if we just assume the inevitable and I crawl into bed with you now?”
Draco chuckled. “Yeah. That’s okay.”
Everything went dim and then green. Draco heard Harry changing his clothes, but did not look at him. If he looked, he would touch, and it was already difficult enough to keep from touching. Whenever they were even near each other, Draco stepped closer to be next to him, lifted a hand to touch him, fought back the urge to kiss him.
Maybe it was the bond. Maybe Harry was just sexy. Maybe it was both.
He slipped into bed, breathing long and slow to keep himself calm. He had his hands behind his head and eyes shut when the bed dipped. Draco kept his eyes shut and smiled. Hands rubbed up his chest. Lips followed. And then a tongue. He barely felt it and realized that Harry was tracing the Sectumsempra scar up along his chest. He hadn’t had feeling there since the curse had ripped through his skin.
Draco took one hand and tangled it in Harry’s long hair. His body stiffened, his breath going short. But even the shame and heartache that came from remembering that day in the bathroom was not enough to stop him from being hard. He was getting used to this pre-teen constant state of arousal that Harry pulled from him.
He was only a little surprised when Harry pressed a kiss to his lips.
Harry sighed and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ... I just ... I’m so sorry.” He traced the scar with his fingers.
Draco chuckled. “You’ve apologized already, Harry. More than once.”
“I know, but I feel wretched. You were ... just ... broken, I guess. And I made it worse.”
“I was about to Crucio you, if you’ll remember. Neither of us was innocent that day.”
Harry pouted.
“Slughorn changed the Slytherin password to Sectumsempra.”
Harry lifted up his head, eyes actually flashing green. “Sodding prick ... I will-”
Draco shook his head. “I don’t want him to know that he got to me at all. I can’t. He’s turned this into a personal battle, so I will keep it that way. This isn’t the same as him not offering to let me teach. This is petty and childish, and I will not stoop to his level.”
“It is pretty ridiculous, even for a Slytherin bent on revenge.”
“If it was for revenge, I’d completely understand. But it isn’t. He’s just being an arse.”
Harry frowned and then nodded. “I won’t demand that he change it, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. It won’t be that forever. Slytherin passwords change every fortnight. Kiss me,” Draco said when it looked like Harry might say more.
Harry huffed, breath warm against Draco’s mouth. With fingers in his hair, he turned Draco’s mouth enough for a kiss. It was a comforting kiss, one of familiarity. One that felt like Draco had been kissing Harry his entire life instead of just the last few days. He felt and understood everything Harry was even without knowing it all. He wanted to know it all. He wanted to ask questions and talk about him, them, the other two.
Maybe soon. When he did not have an urge to kiss Harry all the time. He was glad it was the weekend. Maybe he could kiss Harry all day tomorrow and Sunday.
“Kissing you is frustrating,” Harry muttered.
Draco glared at him and then said, “Sod off, Potter.”
Laughing, Harry curled against his chest, mouth open on his shoulder and over his collarbone. “I love it. You know I do.” And he shifted his hips to show Draco just how much he loved it with a firm erection pressed to his hip. “I just want so much more. I want ... I want you in the bond. I want our magic to dance together. Either it’s impatient. Or I am.”
“Or both,” Draco said. “Unfulfilled magicks are dangerous. Hermione said that the bond worked because of the strength of your friendship and love for each other. I’m sure that’s only part of it. The other part of it is that you’re a really powerful wizard. Without you, I’m sure it would have failed.”
“Without you,” Harry said and met his eyes, fiery green up almost too close. “Without you, it would have failed. It worked because I was already connected to you. If I wasn’t, we would all be dead. Hermione can’t come to grips with that. She thought it would work with three, but it didn’t. We were not enough. It needed you. I need you.”
Draco glanced away but did not say anything against that. There were too many coincidences and feelings inside him to continue to doubt that he was connected to the Golden Trio in some way.
“Hermione has a few theories about what would happen if we had sex now.”
Draco glanced over to his trunk, at the piles of research that he hadn’t gotten around to reading yet. “What theories?”
“The strongest one is that it would make the effects of the bond on you worse. So, like the other day when you were exhausted, you’d always feel like that. It is possible that all it will take is sex to add you to it. I mean, you are already kinda there, but that theory doesn’t make sense for all the magical preparation we had to go through. She also theorizes that nothing would happen and that would mean you weren’t our Ventus, but that theory is already shot because you are feeling what we feel with each other.”
“I’m not ready anyway,” Draco said carefully. “This is just ... you are asking a lot of me.”
Harry pouted. “But it’d feel good. Amazing even.”
Draco laughed and pushed Harry’s face with his hand, just teasing. “Duh. It’s sex. Of course, sex will feel good.”
“I meant the bond with you in it will feel good, but maybe just a blowjob won’t matter.”
“Maybe you can go back to your own bed.” Draco tried to roll away from him. The idea was definitely not horrible. But he was not ready for this.
Harry pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Fine, fine, fine.”
Draco resettled and let Harry curl up against his chest, fingers still light on his skin. It was quiet for a moment.
Harry traced the scars on his chest. He huffed out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Draco took a deep breath. “You’re forgiven. You are. I promise. Gryffindors aren’t the only ones that can push away old grudges and past grievances.”
“I know,” Harry said. “Kiss me.”
Draco had no problem following that demand.
---
Morning came too soon. Way too soon, but Draco woke up to the eerie green glow of a Avadara curse slashing through his dreams and he did not want to go back to sleep. Harry slept on, smiling a little, snuffing. A dream, obviously. At least it wasn’t a nightmare.
Draco turned just enough to run a hand up and down his back, the touch light and steady. He did not pause on the scars left behind from the war.
He hadn’t really had a chance yet to really look at him, analyze him, see him for what he had turned into. They were almost twenty now. Blimely, twenty. Draco knew that he’d grown taller the last few years, bulked out the last few months now that he didn’t have a Dark Lord megalomaniac in his house. Harry had too. Not taller, just stronger. He was gorgeous, and Draco felt a little less perfect next to him. Just a little. His hand found its way into Harry’s longer hair. It was still a mess, but less crazy than when they were younger and it seemed to have a mind of its own. And soft. Much softer than he was expecting. His back and arse (Merlin, Harry needed to learn to sleep in something!) were a paler shade than his arms and legs. A fair smattering of hair covered his legs, going lighter up the curves of his arse.
He was beautiful, and Draco was gone. Lost. Falling.
Harry’s back rose with a heavy breath, body going still for a moment and then relaxing. He shuffled closer to Draco with a happy noise and said something that sounded like Draco’s name.
“Fuck,” Draco gasped when it was suddenly too hard to breathe, his chest too tight, throat closed off with too many emotions.
Too intense, too close, too much, too much.
His eyes hurt, flooded and tears spilled somewhere, and it wasn’t fear. Okay, so it mostly wasn’t fear. Part of it was so very terrifying. Most of it wasn’t. Most of it ... most of it was acceptance. Welcoming. Into something ... into something so perfect and pure and ...
Draco was only vaguely aware of their door opening. He felt the bed move, felt warm hands on his own skin, but nothing really made sense through the heavy sense of doom.
Doom? For this? Was this happiness? Wasn’t it supposed to be?
Maybe there was an answer in lips against his. Maybe there was an answer to the hot skin under his hands. He felt supported and cradled and ...
Worshiped?
Nothing was right. Nothing felt wrong, but it wasn’t right! It wasn’t ... it wasn’t ...
His mouth was taken in another kiss, his body moved, the bed and blankets soft under his back. He let himself grow lost in the mouth against his, in the skin under his hands, in the whimpers from his throat. Tears were still drying even as his silk pajama bottoms tented with arousal. His mind was still wavering between flight or fight even as his legs fell open and let the heat of Ronald Weasley hover over him.
“I know I said I wasn’t going to call you a pet name or anything, Ferret,” Weasley muttered against his mouth, “but I think I’m going to have to start calling you beautiful.”
“Shite,” Draco managed. The only intelligible word spiraling through his brain, and when Weasley asked, “Tell me what you need,” Draco thought it most unfair.
Single words.
“You.”
“Kiss.”
“Skin.”
“Fuck.”
It all twisted in his brain, twisted with the images of fire and vines. Heat and home.
Love.
Belonging.
Draco shook his head and yanked himself away with a cry.
Other lips landed on his shoulder and everything felt blue and wet and calm for a moment. Enough for him to breathe properly at least.
“Bugger me,” Draco gasped.
“Sure thing, beautiful.”
Draco’s skin flushed and he almost laughed at Hermione telling Weasley to knock it off. His emotions were out of control. So was his body, legs sprawling open, letting Weasley settle between them, ground down on his body, rub against his cock. He whimpered, thrummed, begged something. Everything was swimming again.
Lips touched his. Softer lips. A softer press of a chest against his other side. For a blissful moment everything was clear. Ron between his legs, Harry’s lip on his nipple, Hermione’s tongue in his mouth, fingers caressing his neck. Everything just hung, like someone had cast a “slow down spell.”
And then the waves were back and his moans were louder and his body was no longer his own. Shaking and shivering, shattering with his orgasm that dirtied his pants and pyjama bottoms probably beyond any cleaning spell. Which made all the more sense to them being taken off the next moment. He bent his quaking legs, gasping into the mouth still demanding kisses, as his bottoms were taken off.
A hot mouth closed around his sensitive dick, sucking and licking him clean. He’d have tugged on the head, pulled Weasley away, along with the heavy moan leaving his mouth, but one hand was trapped under Hermione and the other was tangled in Harry’s long black hair.
Weasley’s mouth was probably the best thing in the entire world. It took a few long seconds for Draco to realize that he was licking up Draco’s spunk and completely and obviously attempting to shove up his leg. Draco felt like putty and had no problems allowing it, settling his bent knee on Weasley’s shoulder, letting Weasley move his mouth and tongue and teeth down the back of his thigh, along the curves of his arse and up his cleft.
Someone grunted next to him, and Draco tilted his head, blurry vision focusing on Harry above him. He pouted, but his eyes were dancing with green.
“What?” Draco managed to say, voice almost broken.
“You tell me no, but you’ll spread your legs for Ron?”
Draco sighed at the rumble of laughter against his left arsecheek. Ron. Yes. Ron.
Draco’s reply didn’t even make it completely through his brain before he was moaning again because Weasley decided to lick at his arsehole.
“We really should not be doing this,” Hermione said and resumed their kiss.
Harry sucked on his neck.
Fingers curled around his dick. Smaller, softer than Weasley’s. Hermione’s probably. He smiled and managed to get a hand down Harry’s body, gripping his arse. Another hand pulled at his other knee, lifting him up a bit from the bed.
Weasley pressed his fingers against Draco’s entrance, a light caress for only a moment and then pushed one into him.
Draco moaned into Hermione’s mouth, hips jerking up on his own.
Everything tingled for a moment, a flash of heat spread through his lower body, and then Weasley’s finger just slipped into him, a slow, slick touch inside his body where he hadn’t been touched in a long time. There was another moment of clarity that mostly had to do with his dick throbbing in Hermione’s hand while Weasley pressed a second finger into him.
We should not be doing this.
Shite.
Draco knew that. He knew that.
His body moved under strong hands, pulling him down the bed. The other two were dislodged, their muttered protests muffled as they moved with each other.
Draco’s mouth was no longer being kissed and he frowned up at Weasley.
At Ron. Ron who was smiling at him. The look on his face a mixture of delectable promise and adoring concern.
Ron leaned over him, Draco’s knees bent at his elbows. Their lips brushed.
“Do you want this, beautiful? Do you want my dick inside you?”
“Un-unfair question at the moment.”
“If you tell me you don’t want it, then I’m going to rut out my orgasm against your body. I have way more control than Harry,” Weasley said and looked to their left.
Draco followed his gaze to the other two, and Harry was already buried deep inside Hermione and she was rolling her hips against his body. There were vines sliding up Hermione’s back. One of them slipped down and toward Draco, pausing for a moment.
Draco managed to get a finger along its smooth length and it wiggled toward them, going between their chests. It felt ... tingly against his skin. Like Harry..
Weasley thrust against him lightly, his hard cock sliding between his thigh and stomach, over Draco’s leaking erection.
Draco smiled, slid a hand up and over Weasley’s shoulder and pulled him down for a heavy kiss. It was only interrupted when Draco said, “I want this.”
Weasley smirked, actually smirked at him, and it had Draco rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Weasel.”
“I’m so tempted to make you beg me.”
Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head.
“Next time.” Chuckling, Weasley shifted up onto his knees, pulling Draco again. He trailed fingers from one hand up his chest, leaving tiny flashes of heat all along his skin. Draco gasped, arching off the bed. He stiffened, his moan echoing around them when the thick head of Weasley’s erection pushed inside him. He dug his nails into Weasley’s arms, and then cried out when that warm hand encircled his cock. He rocked up, pushed down, and took more of Weasley into him.
The hot hand on his dick tightened, and once against everything sort of weaved and wavered. That single vine had found his nipple and was twisting around it, tightening, twirling.
His body was on edge and he splattered clear fluid onto his stomach.
Weasley pressed deeper, his moans a quieter bass to Draco’s higher whimpers.
It didn’t hurt. Not at all. It was just too slow. He felt every buggering bit of Weasley push into him, wanted it all, and was flailing a little when hands encircled his wrists and pinned them above his head. And then he could only move his hips and he did, jerking up into Weasley’s grip on his cock and pushing back onto Ron’s dick.
The wavering shattered and he was coming again, his orgasm painting up to his chest in heavy strips of white. And his whimpers were just whimpers. They were cries of Weasley’s name. “Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron,” as his body shook and fell apart beneath Weasley’s heat.
Ron’s heat. Everything was so hot.
Ron sank into him the rest of the way with a heavy moan. “Fuck, tight.”
The tangy head of a dick touched his lips and he turned his head, mouth open, breath heavy, but just managing to lick at the come dripping from Harry’s slit.
Lips closed around his erection too and he was shuddering through another weak pulse of orgasm while Hermione swallowed him.
There was no coming down from this high. Not anytime soon and Draco didn’t care, didn’t try. He kept his hips moving with Ron’s thrusts, managed to take Harry’s wide prick into his throat, and just moved between them. A perfect cadence. A perfect tempo of time passing between love and acceptance and belonging.
Harry let go of his wrists and he moved one hand to cup Harry’s balls, slide back to tease his entrance, and the other hand went to Hermione’s hair. Harry tangled his hands in Draco’s hair, thrusting a little faster into his mouth. Still shallow, still tangy with come, and Draco swallowed the taste as best he could while his body still moved rhythmically from Ron’s thrusts. He was aware of muttered curses, praises, mostly groans and pants. And his own noises, mostly muffled moans of Ron’s name.
He didn’t think he was going to come again, but with Weasley thrusting into him and Hermione’s mouth on his dick, another strong wave of pleasure was threatening, building, moving, and he felt the tantalizing, teasing touches of magic inside him more than on his skin. They felt of each of them: hotheaded, cool and calm, eager and happy. But there was a touch of his own. He did not know how he knew the difference. He did not know what it felt like to the other three, but it was there. He pulled away from Harry’s cock, gasping in heavy breaths of air.
Harry protested with a whimper, but still slid his dick over Draco’s lips, his hand jerking himself off. Draco tried, but the magic was twisting too much and he was dizzy and happy. Everything centered around him and when his eyes shut, he saw streaks of blue, green, red and silver behind his eyelids.
His chest tightened again, because he was there, between them, with them, part of them, and he swallowed back emotions, crying out as the pleasure peaked and Ron’s thrusts sped up. Draco was only vaguely aware of Harry coming, splattering his release all over Draco’s face and into his open mouth. He swallowed and moaned and felt everything shatter between them, and for a brief moment that felt like eternity, the colors in his eyes, the magicks in his soul, were one strong heavy stream of everything they were. Everything the three of them were. And Draco too. He felt it so keenly in his soul. Felt the three of them. All four of them.
Connected. Secure.
And then the magicks split and Draco was coming, shouting out his release with Ron and moaning, crying and jerking through the pleasure that once against splattered from his dick and covered his stomach in white streaks of come.
Somehow Ron found his lips, muffling his own moans against Draco’s as he rode out his orgasm, hips jerking through the pleasure. Everything tasted like come, but smelled like lightning, electric and sizzling.
Was that him? Air in their little elemental world?
Maybe.
Another tongue pressed against his mouth and Ron moved enough to let Hermione kiss him, and he pried open his eyes to see Harry and Ron kissing. Black and Red. Green and Red. And Blue. And Silver. Colors blurring with his vision. His chest tightening and cutting short his gasping breath.
It was too much. Too much emotion. Too much ... of ... something. Draco had no idea.
He sagged against the bed, eyes shut. Fingers wiped first at the traces of come on his face and then at his tears. Ron slipped out of him with a sigh, moving to this other side. But Draco’s legs stayed up in the air, because Harry went between him, pulling his arsecheeks apart to suck and eat the come out of his ass.
Draco moaned at the sensual slide of his tongue on too sensitive skin and his cock twitched, pulsing another clump of come onto his skin.
Ron chuckled and kissed him.
Hermione kissed down his body.
When Harry was done between his legs, he joined Hermione to lick up the spunk around his cock.
Ron kept kissing him, a dirty hand spreading come into his hair.
Draco pulled away and made a face. “Really, Weasley, my hair?”
Ron laughed. “It’s fucking everywhere, Ferret. Harry comes a lot.”
And Draco felt it then, sticky clumps near his forehead and ear and Ron licked a heavy strip up his face.
Breasts pressed against his chest, and Hermione snuggled up against him. Her hair was a mess, half out of the bun, curly and wavy around her head.
She smiled and kissed him for a moment before burying her face up under his neck. Harry moved behind her, a soft hand up and down her back. His hand moved between her legs, and she moaned, opening her mouth and sucking at Draco’s neck.
Ron chuckled. “Feel good, ‘Mione?”
“Always,” she whispered and then bit down when Harry’s fingers twisted inside her.
Draco hissed at the sharp pain.
Ron seemed to think sucking on his neck was a good idea, because he moved enough to get his other side, and the two of them left little bites and hickys up and down his neck and down his collarbones. His dick twitched where it was nestled against Hermione’s thigh.
They were all still riding the high, but Draco was much too tired for more sex.
Maybe. Maybe one more orgasm.
He had no idea how many times the others had come. Ron, maybe only once. Hermione was shuddering against him a few moments later, Harry’s mouth on her ass, fingers still thrusting inside her.
Ron turned his head for another kiss while Hermione quaked through her orgasm. Probably the third one? Draco had no idea.
“You okay, beautiful?” Ron whispered, and Draco flushed, his chest going tight, and he ducked his head.
A stupid little pet name and he completely understood Harry now. It was a compliment and a promise all buried into a single word.
Draco whimpered, mostly embarrassed and hid his face against Ron’s freckled chest.
Ron chuckled, the sound vibrating through his skin.
“Merlin, we’re disgusting,” Draco said, tonguing at sweat-slicked and freckled skin. He noticed before, but noted now that the freckles were indeed everywhere.
The other three laughed.
Hermione mumbled something that sounded like a cleaning spell and a cool wave of magic flew over them.
And then Harry mumbled something that felt so calming and so perfect that Draco relaxed with a huge smile on his face. Another word had them covered with Draco’s blanket. And he was cocooned with all three of them, buried against Ron with Hermione on top of him, and Harry pressed against his other side, adding his own bites to Draco’s shoulder.
Draco was sure they slept for a little while because the next time he was aware of anything, sunlight was fighting against the curtains and there were a few plates of food under a warming charm waiting on their desk.
When Draco shifted, so did the other three, slowly becoming aware of everything. Skin and smiles, and Draco did not stop Ron from kissing him, Hermione from sucking the skin on his back.
Harry was the first to sit up, and he held out a hand. His glasses shot over to his hand and he put them on before reaching high and stretching. Draco placed a hand on his stomach and Harry smiled down at him.
“You okay?” Harry asked, his voice soft.
A heavy question sure. But Draco returned his smile and nodded, unable to really say anything past the lump of emotion and tightness of his chest.
Ron pulled Draco close and hummed against his neck. He wasn’t really awake. Draco did not mind. He was exhausted. Now that his mind was clear enough to realize it. It was like the other morning when he’d been lightheaded and tired. He probably needed to eat. The food looked so far away.
Harry was the first out of the bed, sauntering toward the bathroom, and Draco watched the muscles of his ass and thighs move and he had to lick his lips. Harry was gorgeous.
“Come on,” Hermione said and tugged at his arm. “Sit up.” She waved her hand and a bowl of porridge flew over to her hand.
Draco grumbled, but did as he was asked and managed to pry himself away from Ron’s arms and sit up. He wavered, his head spinning a little. But he steadied at a cool brush of magic from Hermione.
Like before, he felt much better after he had eaten. The four of them crowded on his bed to eat and then returned to snuggling under the blankets for a little while doing nothing more than just smiling and kissing each other.
Someone pounded on their door. “Oi! Harry! Ron! Neville’s here!”
Harry smiled. “Just in time to finish my Herbology homework.”
“Lazy arse,” Hermione grumbled, though she gripped the arse in question with a smile.
“Come on,” Harry said. “Get up. Let’s go say hello.”
“Shite,” Ron said. “Hermione and I came over here starkers.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you a wizard or not?”
The two of them smiled and Draco felt a bit lost. Their soft looks showed that it was definitely an inside joke.
Hermione climbed out of the bed with Harry and went to his mess of clothes. She Transfigured a dress for herself out of one Harry’s T-shirts and slipped it over her naked body. It clung to her breasts and hips and Draco felt himself harden a little.
“Down boy,” Ron breathed against his ear. “That’s my girlfriend you’re getting all hard over.”
“That’s your girlfriend that swallowed down my cock like it was dessert,” Draco said back.
Ron laughed. “She does love a mouthful of come.”
Hermione shot him a two fingered salute and left the room, Harry laughing as he trailed after her.
The door shut behind them and Ron was suddenly over him pressing him to the bed, elbows by Draco’s head. He smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I knew your skin would look delicious covered in hickys.” He moved his mouth down Draco’s neck.
Ronald Bilius Weasley! Hermione’s voice shouted at him.
Ron laughed again, breath warm on Draco’s chest. “Just because,” he muttered and then sucked another hicky into Draco’s skin.
Draco sighed and tugged at his head, only half of a protest.
Ron pressed a kiss to the new mark and then another one to his lips before rolling away to charm some of Harry’s clothes into a pair of jeans. He found one of his own T-shirts in Harry’s pile of stuff.
“You’re gorgeous,” Draco managed to say when Ron’s strong ass disappeared behind denim.
Ron smirked over at him. “I know.”
Draco laughed. “Arrogant lion.”
“If you got it, flaunt it,” Ron said and flexed his arms, and Draco’s entire body almost thrummed with lust.
“Felt that,” Ron said as he left the room.
Draco huffed and fell back onto the bed. Ron felt that. Did that mean they were connected too? Or more connected? How much had their night together, their first night of actual penetrative sex, affected the bond?
He remembered the sex, the way his magic had just ... combined ... with the other three. He shivered. It had felt absolutely perfect.
Was it there? Had Hermione’s theory been true that all they had to do was have sex? He didn’t think so. He’d really only had sex with Ron.
Weasley. Ron. Bugger. He’d started calling him Ron in his head.
He was doomed.
Smiling at his idiocy and how absolutely happy he was, Draco managed to get out of the bed, only swaying a little bit. Unlike the other three, Draco took a shower. He thought about their sex, trying to analyse it from a clinical point of view, but there had been nothing clinical or routine about last night. His body ached, some of the bite marks stung. He thought about casting a glamour on them, but had a feeling the other three would be upset about that. Instead, he showed them off. He wore a pair of his jeans, one of the tighter pair, and then a blue silk shirt with the top three buttons undone. Again, he left his hair to just dry on its own.
He left the bedroom barefoot.
Conversation in the common room stopped as he went down the stairs. And yes, he felt that fiery pulsing flame of lust from a fiery redhead.
But it was Harry who met him at the bottom of the stairs and wrapped his arms around his neck and devoured his mouth.
“Told you. Shagging,” Finnigan said.
Harry smiled over at him. “Now we are.”
Technically, they hadn’t, but the four of them was obviously a secret.
There were grumbles around the common room and a few galleons exchanged hands, including Dean Thomas handing Finnigan five of them and saying out loud, almost like he had been compelled with a charm, “I, Dean Thomas, know nothing and Seamus is the smartest wizard in the entire world, and I should do well to learn from him, especially when it comes to things like shagging. I owe him a fantastic blowjob.”
There was silence for a little while and then laughter.
Harry tugged him over to where Longbottom and the other two were lounging on a couch. Draco sat in a chair and Harry fell into his lap.
Draco smiled over at Longbottom. “Hullo, Longbottom. How is your grandmother?”
Neville was a bit wary, but he nodded at Draco and said, “Malfoy. She’s doing just fine. She practically kicked me out of the house to get me to Hogwarts.”
“Sounds like her,” Draco said with a grin. “She has always been crazy.”
Longbottom glared at him.
“Careful, mate,” Harry said. “Neville here has experience slicing open snakes.”
“I didn’t meant it as an insult,” Draco said. “Your grandmother is powerful and demands respect. You never really know what she will do next.”
“She was in Ravenclaw,” Longbottom said proudly. “She is brilliant.”
Draco nodded. “She is. I meant no disrespect.”
“For once,” Longbottom said with a glare.
“Well, yes.”
“He’s changed, Nev,” Harry said, snuggling into his neck. “Still a bit of a wanker, but sexy and amazing and not really a huge idiot anymore.”
Draco took a very deep breath against a childish retort. But his body stiffened, and Harry chuckled against his chest.
Longbottom glanced down and then narrowed his eyes. “Why is there a Flitterbloom vine wrapped around your wrist?”
Draco shifted his arm to hide the vine and cleared his throat.
“He found it in Herbology,” Harry said to him. “Oh, hey, Nev. Can you finish my Herbology homework? Sprout is being completely evil already. A foot on all of our items for the major project.” Harry climbed off his lap and said, “Come here. I’ll show you what we have to do.”
Longbottom glared at Draco for a moment longer and then followed Harry to a desk that had his schoolwork sprawled all over it.
“So, Ferret,” Ron said.
Draco frowned a bit that he wasn’t called beautiful, but he figured that was just for in the bedroom and being alone.
“What?”
“The chessboard is still up. Want to lose again?”
“Ron, you have homework,” Hermione reminded him.
He waved her away, eyes gleaming.
Draco had spent eight years never being able to ignore that challenge in those bright blue eyes. “You’re on, Weasel.”
---
After dinner, Draco was full of energy. It was weird. He wanted to jump, dance, run around, something. It was spiraling out of his control and he could not stop fucking smiling.
Harry stopped him from walking to a chair in the common room and said, “Come talk to me.”
Draco smiled and almost bounced up the stairs.
They were in the room for only a moment before Harry had his arms around his waist and their lips together. Draco did not mind that at all and pushed his overflowing energy into the kiss.
“Talk, huh?” he said when Harry yanked on his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Your fault. Your magic is going insane.” Harry’s hands were on his bare chest, up and down his skin, over his shoulders and then into his hair to yank him back for another heavy kiss.
“Huh?” Draco pulled away. Or tried to. Harry plastered himself to his side.
“Your magic,” Harry murmured against his neck. “It’s spiraling. Needs an outlet.”
“And you’ll let me outlet with you?”
“That was horrible.”
“Stop talking.”
The awkwardness was gone, thank Merlin. That morning seemed to have destroyed whatever tentativeness had existed between them. And whatever objections Draco had about this being too soon.
Oh, it was still too soon, but when the option was orgasm or not orgasm, Draco didn’t know any nineteen-year-old guy who would choose not. Well, except him, when he’d denied Harry the night before. And where had that left him? Horny only a few hours later and spreading his legs and practically begging Ron to fuck him.
Shite.
Harry pulled away almost abruptly. He waved a hand between them and their clothes slithered to the floor. Another wave had a complicated silencing charm and locking charm on the door. The symbols burned blue and red for a moment before being swallowed by green.
Draco smirked over at Harry. “Want me all to yourself, Potter?”
“Yes,” Harry said and threw himself at him. Well, not so violently, but their lips were together again, hands all over each other again, sliding over arms, down backs, gripping cocks. And walking. Moving back toward the bed.
Stumbling.
The bed was too large to really just fall and fuck, so Draco reluctantly let Harry go and followed Harry onto the bed.
“How fast is this going to be?” Draco asked.
Harry smirked at him, waved his hand over his own body, and said, “Fast. Fuck me.” He gripped behind his knees, spreading himself open, and Draco stared. Harry’s spelled had slicked him up and gleaming trails were already pulsing from his body.
“You know, there are things called healing spells,” Draco said, running a soft finger around the slickened hole that burned red. It pulsed under his fingertip, clenching tight and then gaping open in invitation.
Harry smiled, eyes fluttering shut as Draco pressed in a finger. “I like it. It reminds me of ... of ... well, of them. Soon to be you. Come on. Come on.”
Draco did not roll his eyes because he was a Malfoy, but lifted an eyebrow and stared down at him. “I’d ask if you are always this impatient, but I’ve spent almost eight years learning that that is true.”
Harry moved a hand just to flip him two fingers.
Draco laughed and put his hand in its place, keeping Harry’s knee bent. He leaned over him, other hand holding down his dick. Even with all the Malfoy upbringing, he wasn’t able to stop his shudder or huff of pleasure at the slickness along his cock. He pushed, sinking into Harry almost too much at once. Not too much for Harry, just for himself.
He fell forward, hands to either side of Harry’s head. Harry bent with him easily, knees hooked on Draco’s arms.
Draco moaned, finishing the thrust, until they were pressed together, and he just stopped, unable to do much more within the heat of Harry’s body.
Harry shifted and Draco let him, moving his arms until Harry’s legs were wrapped around his body, heels digging into his lower back. Draco pressed his forehead to Harry’s shoulder, body curved through a thrust, quick in and out. He gasped, the sound muffled on Harry’s skin, and he did it again.
When he could mostly breathe, he growled. “Merlin, Potter. Don’t get used to this. Next time, I’m going to play with you.”
Harry’s hands tangled in his hair and yanked his head up for a kiss.
“Lick you,” Draco promised. “Prep you. Without magic. Just my tongue and fingers.”
Harry moaned, hips lifting from the bed to get Draco to move.
Everything tightened around him, and Draco echoed his moan. “Going to tease you ... fuck, Harry.”
“Next time.”
They kissed again. Or more of their mouths just open and together, breathing together, closing every now and then.
Draco finally moved, hands holding him up at a good angle, hips snapping forward. There was no reason for slow if Harry wanted it hard and fast. Harry pulled his hair, Draco’s gasps broken with Harry’s whimpers. Their bodies were suddenly flush, together, just rocking, with Draco barely leaving the tightness and heat of Harry.
Within the haze, Draco felt the green touch of light around him. The feeling of being held and secure and home, and he gasped, pulling away from Harry’s mouth. Everything was green with Harry’s light. Draco decided he had to get used to that.
And used to Harry, below him, kissing him, touching him, whimpering for him to move. Please. Please. Please.
Draco glanced down at him and grinned. “You know you don’t have to beg me, right?”
Harry smiled. “You like it.”
“Ron likes it. I like you.”
Harry laughed. “Fine. I won’t beg. Now, shut up and fuck me until I come.”
Draco laughed with him. “Yes, sir.” He shifted back to his knees, gripping the strength of Harry’s thighs. He took a deep breath and gave Harry just what he wanted, dicking into him steadily. He watched for a moment the way he moved in and out of him, through the magicked slick, the rim stretching and clinging to him.
“Gods,” Draco moaned and gripped Harry’s dick, stroking him in time to his own thrusts.
Harry dug his nails into Draco’s arm, back arching off the bed, head pressed tight to the pillows. His moan echoed around them and he was coming, shooting ropes of his release up his stomach and chest, looking almost like another set of scars on the tanned expanse of skin.
Draco fell over him with a gasp, the pulses of his body pulling Draco’s orgasm from him almost violently. He rutted out his pleasure, his head going foggy and gray. A wicked wind twisted around them, blowing sweaty hair off his face, disturbing the hangings of the bed.
“Christ,” Harry said, body shaking. He buried his face against Draco’s shoulder and bit down. “Jesus Fucking Merlin.”
Within the pleasure still flinging through him, Draco realized that Harry was coming again.
The wind died to a soft breeze. It felt ... normal. Why not have a wind blowing through a room that had a window that was obviously and firmly shut?
Draco snorted.
Harry was still shaking, and Draco put his arm up under his back, curling against him, hips still moving a little.
“Shite, you feel so ... just so ...” Harry lifted his head and kissed him. He was crying.
Draco tried to hold him more tightly.
“You felt the wind,” Harry muttered. “You felt it. You can’t deny it. Please, don’t. I can’t ... I couldn’t handle it if you said no. I need you. We need you.”
Draco took a deep breath. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, but ...”
Harry pouted up at him, and Draco smiled.
“It’s too soon,” Draco whispered. “You’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond and connect myself to three people that ...”
Harry covered his mouth with a hand. “Shut up. You sound like Hermione.”
“You love each other?”
“Of course.”
“Then allow me that. You have an eight-year head start. I never grew up with delusions of love, Harry. I was betrothed to Daphne Greengrass. I was expected to marry and provide an heir for the Malfoy name. This is so far from that, so far from the expectations that I am used to. I need to have more time.”
Harry pouted again. “Fine, Ferret. Have your romance.”
Draco smiled. “It’s more than just romance. It’s trust. It’s respect. It’s enjoyment. And it’s also self-preservation. I almost died too many times already, and now you’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond that will kill me if one of you three die? I do not have the same connection to you. You have to understand that.”
Harry sighed. “I know. I understand that.”
“But?”
His frowned turned into a smirk. “But I want you. All of you. All to myself. Every bit of slimy, arrogant Slytherin.”
Draco chuckled. “All to yourself, huh? Does that mean you’re not going to lower the wards on the door and let the other two join us for the night?”
“That is exactly what it means.”
Part 8: Research is Foreplay
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
.
Pairing: Harry/Draco/Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made.
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for the "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.
A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage.
This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.
This is cross-posted on my Ao3 "ddelusionall" account: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701/chapters/26956032
Part 7:
After dinner, Weasley threw his arm around Draco’s shoulders and said, “I hear you’re pretty good at Wizard’s Chess, Malfoy. Fancy a game?”
Draco snorted. “Only if you want to lose.”
Everyone else laughed. Everyone. Weasley smirked at him, lacing his hands behind his head and rocking back on his feet.
“Ron is wicked on a chessboard,” Padmil Patil said. “The only one I’ve ever seen beat him is his brother George, and I’m pretty sure George knows how to cheat.”
Draco glanced over at Hermione with an eyebrow raised. A silent question of, “Is this true?”
“You spent so long thinking he was stupid because he’s a Weasley,” Granger said. “I actually can’t wait to watch.”
“I have my own board,” Weasley said. “Both black and white are pretty loyal to me. So, to be fair, I think we should use Macmillan’s board.”
“Sure, mate,” Macmillan said. “Let me grab it.”
Weasley broke away from him and crossed his arms. “Pick where you want to meet your doom, Ferret.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Dramatic much, Weasel? I don’t care where I beat you.”
Weasley’s eyes narrowed and he moved to one of the smaller tables. Draco made a show of taking off his school robes and flinging them over the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Weasley did the same with his robes and then turned the chair backwards and straddled it, crossing his too-muscley arms over the back of it. Draco sat way more properly, his back straight and legs crossed, and they glared at each other for the few seconds it took for MacMillan to return with his chessboard. Glaring was better than staring at the way his veins stood out up and down his forearms or at how his shoulder muscles looked ready to break out of his shirtsleeves.
The other eighth-years conjured, gathered, or floated over chairs and cushions to watch.
Macmillan’s board opened between them, the pieces floating to their correct spaces. He took a white pawn and a black pawn, shuffled them behind his back and held out his closed hands.
Weasley indicated that Draco should choose and he took the hand closest to him. Black. Perfect.
With no further preamble or bantering, Weasley started the game. The pieces were unfamiliar and many times offered both of them suggestions. Weasley shut them down pretty quickly, taking control of the stone players within just a few moves. Draco always watched his opponents for that. Sometimes the pieces could win or a lose a game without the wizard knowing how to properly use them. He also ignored suggestions from the black pieces.
Within a few minutes, he knew that Ronald Bilius Weasley was bloody good at Wizard's Chess. Their audience started making wagers, cheering when pieces were taken or Weasley managed to get out of a jam.
Draco did his best to ignore them, just as Weasley did, eyes never leaving the board. Eyes watching and calculating.
Bugger, Draco was fucked.
A tall strong confident Weasley was sexy. A tall strong confident and brilliant strategist Weasley? Yeah. There was no way that Draco could ever say no to that.
Truly and desperately fucked.
Weasley beat him. Draco had thought he had a chance near the end when he took Weasley’s queen, but it was just a matter of time before one of them was cornered. He barely saw it coming. Sure he had two or three more moves with his rook and queen, but Weasley tossed him into checkmate with nothing more than a bishop and the only pawn left on the board, with a knight and rook providing backup.
Draco’s king threw his crown to the board and Weasley’s bishop slid over and swung its staff right at the king’s head. He crumpled and Draco leaned away with a sigh.
Weasley crossed his arms over the back of the chair and smirked at him. “It’s about time someone actually got close to challenging me. Let me guess. You were just warming up?”
Draco lifted his chin with a defiant smirk.
“Another go?”
Draco smiled slow and predatory. “Sure, Weasel.”
The crowd groaned, but there were still people changing Galleons.
The board reset itself, and Draco concentrated on the pieces. Not the way Weasley’s forearms were lined with veins and hair and freckles. And the muscles were firm and ...
Shite.
Draco was fucked. And he absolutely loved it.
---
“So, Ferret,” Harry said just as Draco removed his shirt for bed.
“So, Scarhead,” Draco prompted and glanced at him.
Harry was staring at him, eyes flashing green a bit. “Is it okay if we just assume the inevitable and I crawl into bed with you now?”
Draco chuckled. “Yeah. That’s okay.”
Everything went dim and then green. Draco heard Harry changing his clothes, but did not look at him. If he looked, he would touch, and it was already difficult enough to keep from touching. Whenever they were even near each other, Draco stepped closer to be next to him, lifted a hand to touch him, fought back the urge to kiss him.
Maybe it was the bond. Maybe Harry was just sexy. Maybe it was both.
He slipped into bed, breathing long and slow to keep himself calm. He had his hands behind his head and eyes shut when the bed dipped. Draco kept his eyes shut and smiled. Hands rubbed up his chest. Lips followed. And then a tongue. He barely felt it and realized that Harry was tracing the Sectumsempra scar up along his chest. He hadn’t had feeling there since the curse had ripped through his skin.
Draco took one hand and tangled it in Harry’s long hair. His body stiffened, his breath going short. But even the shame and heartache that came from remembering that day in the bathroom was not enough to stop him from being hard. He was getting used to this pre-teen constant state of arousal that Harry pulled from him.
He was only a little surprised when Harry pressed a kiss to his lips.
Harry sighed and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ... I just ... I’m so sorry.” He traced the scar with his fingers.
Draco chuckled. “You’ve apologized already, Harry. More than once.”
“I know, but I feel wretched. You were ... just ... broken, I guess. And I made it worse.”
“I was about to Crucio you, if you’ll remember. Neither of us was innocent that day.”
Harry pouted.
“Slughorn changed the Slytherin password to Sectumsempra.”
Harry lifted up his head, eyes actually flashing green. “Sodding prick ... I will-”
Draco shook his head. “I don’t want him to know that he got to me at all. I can’t. He’s turned this into a personal battle, so I will keep it that way. This isn’t the same as him not offering to let me teach. This is petty and childish, and I will not stoop to his level.”
“It is pretty ridiculous, even for a Slytherin bent on revenge.”
“If it was for revenge, I’d completely understand. But it isn’t. He’s just being an arse.”
Harry frowned and then nodded. “I won’t demand that he change it, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. It won’t be that forever. Slytherin passwords change every fortnight. Kiss me,” Draco said when it looked like Harry might say more.
Harry huffed, breath warm against Draco’s mouth. With fingers in his hair, he turned Draco’s mouth enough for a kiss. It was a comforting kiss, one of familiarity. One that felt like Draco had been kissing Harry his entire life instead of just the last few days. He felt and understood everything Harry was even without knowing it all. He wanted to know it all. He wanted to ask questions and talk about him, them, the other two.
Maybe soon. When he did not have an urge to kiss Harry all the time. He was glad it was the weekend. Maybe he could kiss Harry all day tomorrow and Sunday.
“Kissing you is frustrating,” Harry muttered.
Draco glared at him and then said, “Sod off, Potter.”
Laughing, Harry curled against his chest, mouth open on his shoulder and over his collarbone. “I love it. You know I do.” And he shifted his hips to show Draco just how much he loved it with a firm erection pressed to his hip. “I just want so much more. I want ... I want you in the bond. I want our magic to dance together. Either it’s impatient. Or I am.”
“Or both,” Draco said. “Unfulfilled magicks are dangerous. Hermione said that the bond worked because of the strength of your friendship and love for each other. I’m sure that’s only part of it. The other part of it is that you’re a really powerful wizard. Without you, I’m sure it would have failed.”
“Without you,” Harry said and met his eyes, fiery green up almost too close. “Without you, it would have failed. It worked because I was already connected to you. If I wasn’t, we would all be dead. Hermione can’t come to grips with that. She thought it would work with three, but it didn’t. We were not enough. It needed you. I need you.”
Draco glanced away but did not say anything against that. There were too many coincidences and feelings inside him to continue to doubt that he was connected to the Golden Trio in some way.
“Hermione has a few theories about what would happen if we had sex now.”
Draco glanced over to his trunk, at the piles of research that he hadn’t gotten around to reading yet. “What theories?”
“The strongest one is that it would make the effects of the bond on you worse. So, like the other day when you were exhausted, you’d always feel like that. It is possible that all it will take is sex to add you to it. I mean, you are already kinda there, but that theory doesn’t make sense for all the magical preparation we had to go through. She also theorizes that nothing would happen and that would mean you weren’t our Ventus, but that theory is already shot because you are feeling what we feel with each other.”
“I’m not ready anyway,” Draco said carefully. “This is just ... you are asking a lot of me.”
Harry pouted. “But it’d feel good. Amazing even.”
Draco laughed and pushed Harry’s face with his hand, just teasing. “Duh. It’s sex. Of course, sex will feel good.”
“I meant the bond with you in it will feel good, but maybe just a blowjob won’t matter.”
“Maybe you can go back to your own bed.” Draco tried to roll away from him. The idea was definitely not horrible. But he was not ready for this.
Harry pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Fine, fine, fine.”
Draco resettled and let Harry curl up against his chest, fingers still light on his skin. It was quiet for a moment.
Harry traced the scars on his chest. He huffed out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Draco took a deep breath. “You’re forgiven. You are. I promise. Gryffindors aren’t the only ones that can push away old grudges and past grievances.”
“I know,” Harry said. “Kiss me.”
Draco had no problem following that demand.
---
Morning came too soon. Way too soon, but Draco woke up to the eerie green glow of a Avadara curse slashing through his dreams and he did not want to go back to sleep. Harry slept on, smiling a little, snuffing. A dream, obviously. At least it wasn’t a nightmare.
Draco turned just enough to run a hand up and down his back, the touch light and steady. He did not pause on the scars left behind from the war.
He hadn’t really had a chance yet to really look at him, analyze him, see him for what he had turned into. They were almost twenty now. Blimely, twenty. Draco knew that he’d grown taller the last few years, bulked out the last few months now that he didn’t have a Dark Lord megalomaniac in his house. Harry had too. Not taller, just stronger. He was gorgeous, and Draco felt a little less perfect next to him. Just a little. His hand found its way into Harry’s longer hair. It was still a mess, but less crazy than when they were younger and it seemed to have a mind of its own. And soft. Much softer than he was expecting. His back and arse (Merlin, Harry needed to learn to sleep in something!) were a paler shade than his arms and legs. A fair smattering of hair covered his legs, going lighter up the curves of his arse.
He was beautiful, and Draco was gone. Lost. Falling.
Harry’s back rose with a heavy breath, body going still for a moment and then relaxing. He shuffled closer to Draco with a happy noise and said something that sounded like Draco’s name.
“Fuck,” Draco gasped when it was suddenly too hard to breathe, his chest too tight, throat closed off with too many emotions.
Too intense, too close, too much, too much.
His eyes hurt, flooded and tears spilled somewhere, and it wasn’t fear. Okay, so it mostly wasn’t fear. Part of it was so very terrifying. Most of it wasn’t. Most of it ... most of it was acceptance. Welcoming. Into something ... into something so perfect and pure and ...
Draco was only vaguely aware of their door opening. He felt the bed move, felt warm hands on his own skin, but nothing really made sense through the heavy sense of doom.
Doom? For this? Was this happiness? Wasn’t it supposed to be?
Maybe there was an answer in lips against his. Maybe there was an answer to the hot skin under his hands. He felt supported and cradled and ...
Worshiped?
Nothing was right. Nothing felt wrong, but it wasn’t right! It wasn’t ... it wasn’t ...
His mouth was taken in another kiss, his body moved, the bed and blankets soft under his back. He let himself grow lost in the mouth against his, in the skin under his hands, in the whimpers from his throat. Tears were still drying even as his silk pajama bottoms tented with arousal. His mind was still wavering between flight or fight even as his legs fell open and let the heat of Ronald Weasley hover over him.
“I know I said I wasn’t going to call you a pet name or anything, Ferret,” Weasley muttered against his mouth, “but I think I’m going to have to start calling you beautiful.”
“Shite,” Draco managed. The only intelligible word spiraling through his brain, and when Weasley asked, “Tell me what you need,” Draco thought it most unfair.
Single words.
“You.”
“Kiss.”
“Skin.”
“Fuck.”
It all twisted in his brain, twisted with the images of fire and vines. Heat and home.
Love.
Belonging.
Draco shook his head and yanked himself away with a cry.
Other lips landed on his shoulder and everything felt blue and wet and calm for a moment. Enough for him to breathe properly at least.
“Bugger me,” Draco gasped.
“Sure thing, beautiful.”
Draco’s skin flushed and he almost laughed at Hermione telling Weasley to knock it off. His emotions were out of control. So was his body, legs sprawling open, letting Weasley settle between them, ground down on his body, rub against his cock. He whimpered, thrummed, begged something. Everything was swimming again.
Lips touched his. Softer lips. A softer press of a chest against his other side. For a blissful moment everything was clear. Ron between his legs, Harry’s lip on his nipple, Hermione’s tongue in his mouth, fingers caressing his neck. Everything just hung, like someone had cast a “slow down spell.”
And then the waves were back and his moans were louder and his body was no longer his own. Shaking and shivering, shattering with his orgasm that dirtied his pants and pyjama bottoms probably beyond any cleaning spell. Which made all the more sense to them being taken off the next moment. He bent his quaking legs, gasping into the mouth still demanding kisses, as his bottoms were taken off.
A hot mouth closed around his sensitive dick, sucking and licking him clean. He’d have tugged on the head, pulled Weasley away, along with the heavy moan leaving his mouth, but one hand was trapped under Hermione and the other was tangled in Harry’s long black hair.
Weasley’s mouth was probably the best thing in the entire world. It took a few long seconds for Draco to realize that he was licking up Draco’s spunk and completely and obviously attempting to shove up his leg. Draco felt like putty and had no problems allowing it, settling his bent knee on Weasley’s shoulder, letting Weasley move his mouth and tongue and teeth down the back of his thigh, along the curves of his arse and up his cleft.
Someone grunted next to him, and Draco tilted his head, blurry vision focusing on Harry above him. He pouted, but his eyes were dancing with green.
“What?” Draco managed to say, voice almost broken.
“You tell me no, but you’ll spread your legs for Ron?”
Draco sighed at the rumble of laughter against his left arsecheek. Ron. Yes. Ron.
Draco’s reply didn’t even make it completely through his brain before he was moaning again because Weasley decided to lick at his arsehole.
“We really should not be doing this,” Hermione said and resumed their kiss.
Harry sucked on his neck.
Fingers curled around his dick. Smaller, softer than Weasley’s. Hermione’s probably. He smiled and managed to get a hand down Harry’s body, gripping his arse. Another hand pulled at his other knee, lifting him up a bit from the bed.
Weasley pressed his fingers against Draco’s entrance, a light caress for only a moment and then pushed one into him.
Draco moaned into Hermione’s mouth, hips jerking up on his own.
Everything tingled for a moment, a flash of heat spread through his lower body, and then Weasley’s finger just slipped into him, a slow, slick touch inside his body where he hadn’t been touched in a long time. There was another moment of clarity that mostly had to do with his dick throbbing in Hermione’s hand while Weasley pressed a second finger into him.
We should not be doing this.
Shite.
Draco knew that. He knew that.
His body moved under strong hands, pulling him down the bed. The other two were dislodged, their muttered protests muffled as they moved with each other.
Draco’s mouth was no longer being kissed and he frowned up at Weasley.
At Ron. Ron who was smiling at him. The look on his face a mixture of delectable promise and adoring concern.
Ron leaned over him, Draco’s knees bent at his elbows. Their lips brushed.
“Do you want this, beautiful? Do you want my dick inside you?”
“Un-unfair question at the moment.”
“If you tell me you don’t want it, then I’m going to rut out my orgasm against your body. I have way more control than Harry,” Weasley said and looked to their left.
Draco followed his gaze to the other two, and Harry was already buried deep inside Hermione and she was rolling her hips against his body. There were vines sliding up Hermione’s back. One of them slipped down and toward Draco, pausing for a moment.
Draco managed to get a finger along its smooth length and it wiggled toward them, going between their chests. It felt ... tingly against his skin. Like Harry..
Weasley thrust against him lightly, his hard cock sliding between his thigh and stomach, over Draco’s leaking erection.
Draco smiled, slid a hand up and over Weasley’s shoulder and pulled him down for a heavy kiss. It was only interrupted when Draco said, “I want this.”
Weasley smirked, actually smirked at him, and it had Draco rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Weasel.”
“I’m so tempted to make you beg me.”
Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head.
“Next time.” Chuckling, Weasley shifted up onto his knees, pulling Draco again. He trailed fingers from one hand up his chest, leaving tiny flashes of heat all along his skin. Draco gasped, arching off the bed. He stiffened, his moan echoing around them when the thick head of Weasley’s erection pushed inside him. He dug his nails into Weasley’s arms, and then cried out when that warm hand encircled his cock. He rocked up, pushed down, and took more of Weasley into him.
The hot hand on his dick tightened, and once against everything sort of weaved and wavered. That single vine had found his nipple and was twisting around it, tightening, twirling.
His body was on edge and he splattered clear fluid onto his stomach.
Weasley pressed deeper, his moans a quieter bass to Draco’s higher whimpers.
It didn’t hurt. Not at all. It was just too slow. He felt every buggering bit of Weasley push into him, wanted it all, and was flailing a little when hands encircled his wrists and pinned them above his head. And then he could only move his hips and he did, jerking up into Weasley’s grip on his cock and pushing back onto Ron’s dick.
The wavering shattered and he was coming again, his orgasm painting up to his chest in heavy strips of white. And his whimpers were just whimpers. They were cries of Weasley’s name. “Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron,” as his body shook and fell apart beneath Weasley’s heat.
Ron’s heat. Everything was so hot.
Ron sank into him the rest of the way with a heavy moan. “Fuck, tight.”
The tangy head of a dick touched his lips and he turned his head, mouth open, breath heavy, but just managing to lick at the come dripping from Harry’s slit.
Lips closed around his erection too and he was shuddering through another weak pulse of orgasm while Hermione swallowed him.
There was no coming down from this high. Not anytime soon and Draco didn’t care, didn’t try. He kept his hips moving with Ron’s thrusts, managed to take Harry’s wide prick into his throat, and just moved between them. A perfect cadence. A perfect tempo of time passing between love and acceptance and belonging.
Harry let go of his wrists and he moved one hand to cup Harry’s balls, slide back to tease his entrance, and the other hand went to Hermione’s hair. Harry tangled his hands in Draco’s hair, thrusting a little faster into his mouth. Still shallow, still tangy with come, and Draco swallowed the taste as best he could while his body still moved rhythmically from Ron’s thrusts. He was aware of muttered curses, praises, mostly groans and pants. And his own noises, mostly muffled moans of Ron’s name.
He didn’t think he was going to come again, but with Weasley thrusting into him and Hermione’s mouth on his dick, another strong wave of pleasure was threatening, building, moving, and he felt the tantalizing, teasing touches of magic inside him more than on his skin. They felt of each of them: hotheaded, cool and calm, eager and happy. But there was a touch of his own. He did not know how he knew the difference. He did not know what it felt like to the other three, but it was there. He pulled away from Harry’s cock, gasping in heavy breaths of air.
Harry protested with a whimper, but still slid his dick over Draco’s lips, his hand jerking himself off. Draco tried, but the magic was twisting too much and he was dizzy and happy. Everything centered around him and when his eyes shut, he saw streaks of blue, green, red and silver behind his eyelids.
His chest tightened again, because he was there, between them, with them, part of them, and he swallowed back emotions, crying out as the pleasure peaked and Ron’s thrusts sped up. Draco was only vaguely aware of Harry coming, splattering his release all over Draco’s face and into his open mouth. He swallowed and moaned and felt everything shatter between them, and for a brief moment that felt like eternity, the colors in his eyes, the magicks in his soul, were one strong heavy stream of everything they were. Everything the three of them were. And Draco too. He felt it so keenly in his soul. Felt the three of them. All four of them.
Connected. Secure.
And then the magicks split and Draco was coming, shouting out his release with Ron and moaning, crying and jerking through the pleasure that once against splattered from his dick and covered his stomach in white streaks of come.
Somehow Ron found his lips, muffling his own moans against Draco’s as he rode out his orgasm, hips jerking through the pleasure. Everything tasted like come, but smelled like lightning, electric and sizzling.
Was that him? Air in their little elemental world?
Maybe.
Another tongue pressed against his mouth and Ron moved enough to let Hermione kiss him, and he pried open his eyes to see Harry and Ron kissing. Black and Red. Green and Red. And Blue. And Silver. Colors blurring with his vision. His chest tightening and cutting short his gasping breath.
It was too much. Too much emotion. Too much ... of ... something. Draco had no idea.
He sagged against the bed, eyes shut. Fingers wiped first at the traces of come on his face and then at his tears. Ron slipped out of him with a sigh, moving to this other side. But Draco’s legs stayed up in the air, because Harry went between him, pulling his arsecheeks apart to suck and eat the come out of his ass.
Draco moaned at the sensual slide of his tongue on too sensitive skin and his cock twitched, pulsing another clump of come onto his skin.
Ron chuckled and kissed him.
Hermione kissed down his body.
When Harry was done between his legs, he joined Hermione to lick up the spunk around his cock.
Ron kept kissing him, a dirty hand spreading come into his hair.
Draco pulled away and made a face. “Really, Weasley, my hair?”
Ron laughed. “It’s fucking everywhere, Ferret. Harry comes a lot.”
And Draco felt it then, sticky clumps near his forehead and ear and Ron licked a heavy strip up his face.
Breasts pressed against his chest, and Hermione snuggled up against him. Her hair was a mess, half out of the bun, curly and wavy around her head.
She smiled and kissed him for a moment before burying her face up under his neck. Harry moved behind her, a soft hand up and down her back. His hand moved between her legs, and she moaned, opening her mouth and sucking at Draco’s neck.
Ron chuckled. “Feel good, ‘Mione?”
“Always,” she whispered and then bit down when Harry’s fingers twisted inside her.
Draco hissed at the sharp pain.
Ron seemed to think sucking on his neck was a good idea, because he moved enough to get his other side, and the two of them left little bites and hickys up and down his neck and down his collarbones. His dick twitched where it was nestled against Hermione’s thigh.
They were all still riding the high, but Draco was much too tired for more sex.
Maybe. Maybe one more orgasm.
He had no idea how many times the others had come. Ron, maybe only once. Hermione was shuddering against him a few moments later, Harry’s mouth on her ass, fingers still thrusting inside her.
Ron turned his head for another kiss while Hermione quaked through her orgasm. Probably the third one? Draco had no idea.
“You okay, beautiful?” Ron whispered, and Draco flushed, his chest going tight, and he ducked his head.
A stupid little pet name and he completely understood Harry now. It was a compliment and a promise all buried into a single word.
Draco whimpered, mostly embarrassed and hid his face against Ron’s freckled chest.
Ron chuckled, the sound vibrating through his skin.
“Merlin, we’re disgusting,” Draco said, tonguing at sweat-slicked and freckled skin. He noticed before, but noted now that the freckles were indeed everywhere.
The other three laughed.
Hermione mumbled something that sounded like a cleaning spell and a cool wave of magic flew over them.
And then Harry mumbled something that felt so calming and so perfect that Draco relaxed with a huge smile on his face. Another word had them covered with Draco’s blanket. And he was cocooned with all three of them, buried against Ron with Hermione on top of him, and Harry pressed against his other side, adding his own bites to Draco’s shoulder.
Draco was sure they slept for a little while because the next time he was aware of anything, sunlight was fighting against the curtains and there were a few plates of food under a warming charm waiting on their desk.
When Draco shifted, so did the other three, slowly becoming aware of everything. Skin and smiles, and Draco did not stop Ron from kissing him, Hermione from sucking the skin on his back.
Harry was the first to sit up, and he held out a hand. His glasses shot over to his hand and he put them on before reaching high and stretching. Draco placed a hand on his stomach and Harry smiled down at him.
“You okay?” Harry asked, his voice soft.
A heavy question sure. But Draco returned his smile and nodded, unable to really say anything past the lump of emotion and tightness of his chest.
Ron pulled Draco close and hummed against his neck. He wasn’t really awake. Draco did not mind. He was exhausted. Now that his mind was clear enough to realize it. It was like the other morning when he’d been lightheaded and tired. He probably needed to eat. The food looked so far away.
Harry was the first out of the bed, sauntering toward the bathroom, and Draco watched the muscles of his ass and thighs move and he had to lick his lips. Harry was gorgeous.
“Come on,” Hermione said and tugged at his arm. “Sit up.” She waved her hand and a bowl of porridge flew over to her hand.
Draco grumbled, but did as he was asked and managed to pry himself away from Ron’s arms and sit up. He wavered, his head spinning a little. But he steadied at a cool brush of magic from Hermione.
Like before, he felt much better after he had eaten. The four of them crowded on his bed to eat and then returned to snuggling under the blankets for a little while doing nothing more than just smiling and kissing each other.
Someone pounded on their door. “Oi! Harry! Ron! Neville’s here!”
Harry smiled. “Just in time to finish my Herbology homework.”
“Lazy arse,” Hermione grumbled, though she gripped the arse in question with a smile.
“Come on,” Harry said. “Get up. Let’s go say hello.”
“Shite,” Ron said. “Hermione and I came over here starkers.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you a wizard or not?”
The two of them smiled and Draco felt a bit lost. Their soft looks showed that it was definitely an inside joke.
Hermione climbed out of the bed with Harry and went to his mess of clothes. She Transfigured a dress for herself out of one Harry’s T-shirts and slipped it over her naked body. It clung to her breasts and hips and Draco felt himself harden a little.
“Down boy,” Ron breathed against his ear. “That’s my girlfriend you’re getting all hard over.”
“That’s your girlfriend that swallowed down my cock like it was dessert,” Draco said back.
Ron laughed. “She does love a mouthful of come.”
Hermione shot him a two fingered salute and left the room, Harry laughing as he trailed after her.
The door shut behind them and Ron was suddenly over him pressing him to the bed, elbows by Draco’s head. He smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I knew your skin would look delicious covered in hickys.” He moved his mouth down Draco’s neck.
Ronald Bilius Weasley! Hermione’s voice shouted at him.
Ron laughed again, breath warm on Draco’s chest. “Just because,” he muttered and then sucked another hicky into Draco’s skin.
Draco sighed and tugged at his head, only half of a protest.
Ron pressed a kiss to the new mark and then another one to his lips before rolling away to charm some of Harry’s clothes into a pair of jeans. He found one of his own T-shirts in Harry’s pile of stuff.
“You’re gorgeous,” Draco managed to say when Ron’s strong ass disappeared behind denim.
Ron smirked over at him. “I know.”
Draco laughed. “Arrogant lion.”
“If you got it, flaunt it,” Ron said and flexed his arms, and Draco’s entire body almost thrummed with lust.
“Felt that,” Ron said as he left the room.
Draco huffed and fell back onto the bed. Ron felt that. Did that mean they were connected too? Or more connected? How much had their night together, their first night of actual penetrative sex, affected the bond?
He remembered the sex, the way his magic had just ... combined ... with the other three. He shivered. It had felt absolutely perfect.
Was it there? Had Hermione’s theory been true that all they had to do was have sex? He didn’t think so. He’d really only had sex with Ron.
Weasley. Ron. Bugger. He’d started calling him Ron in his head.
He was doomed.
Smiling at his idiocy and how absolutely happy he was, Draco managed to get out of the bed, only swaying a little bit. Unlike the other three, Draco took a shower. He thought about their sex, trying to analyse it from a clinical point of view, but there had been nothing clinical or routine about last night. His body ached, some of the bite marks stung. He thought about casting a glamour on them, but had a feeling the other three would be upset about that. Instead, he showed them off. He wore a pair of his jeans, one of the tighter pair, and then a blue silk shirt with the top three buttons undone. Again, he left his hair to just dry on its own.
He left the bedroom barefoot.
Conversation in the common room stopped as he went down the stairs. And yes, he felt that fiery pulsing flame of lust from a fiery redhead.
But it was Harry who met him at the bottom of the stairs and wrapped his arms around his neck and devoured his mouth.
“Told you. Shagging,” Finnigan said.
Harry smiled over at him. “Now we are.”
Technically, they hadn’t, but the four of them was obviously a secret.
There were grumbles around the common room and a few galleons exchanged hands, including Dean Thomas handing Finnigan five of them and saying out loud, almost like he had been compelled with a charm, “I, Dean Thomas, know nothing and Seamus is the smartest wizard in the entire world, and I should do well to learn from him, especially when it comes to things like shagging. I owe him a fantastic blowjob.”
There was silence for a little while and then laughter.
Harry tugged him over to where Longbottom and the other two were lounging on a couch. Draco sat in a chair and Harry fell into his lap.
Draco smiled over at Longbottom. “Hullo, Longbottom. How is your grandmother?”
Neville was a bit wary, but he nodded at Draco and said, “Malfoy. She’s doing just fine. She practically kicked me out of the house to get me to Hogwarts.”
“Sounds like her,” Draco said with a grin. “She has always been crazy.”
Longbottom glared at him.
“Careful, mate,” Harry said. “Neville here has experience slicing open snakes.”
“I didn’t meant it as an insult,” Draco said. “Your grandmother is powerful and demands respect. You never really know what she will do next.”
“She was in Ravenclaw,” Longbottom said proudly. “She is brilliant.”
Draco nodded. “She is. I meant no disrespect.”
“For once,” Longbottom said with a glare.
“Well, yes.”
“He’s changed, Nev,” Harry said, snuggling into his neck. “Still a bit of a wanker, but sexy and amazing and not really a huge idiot anymore.”
Draco took a very deep breath against a childish retort. But his body stiffened, and Harry chuckled against his chest.
Longbottom glanced down and then narrowed his eyes. “Why is there a Flitterbloom vine wrapped around your wrist?”
Draco shifted his arm to hide the vine and cleared his throat.
“He found it in Herbology,” Harry said to him. “Oh, hey, Nev. Can you finish my Herbology homework? Sprout is being completely evil already. A foot on all of our items for the major project.” Harry climbed off his lap and said, “Come here. I’ll show you what we have to do.”
Longbottom glared at Draco for a moment longer and then followed Harry to a desk that had his schoolwork sprawled all over it.
“So, Ferret,” Ron said.
Draco frowned a bit that he wasn’t called beautiful, but he figured that was just for in the bedroom and being alone.
“What?”
“The chessboard is still up. Want to lose again?”
“Ron, you have homework,” Hermione reminded him.
He waved her away, eyes gleaming.
Draco had spent eight years never being able to ignore that challenge in those bright blue eyes. “You’re on, Weasel.”
---
After dinner, Draco was full of energy. It was weird. He wanted to jump, dance, run around, something. It was spiraling out of his control and he could not stop fucking smiling.
Harry stopped him from walking to a chair in the common room and said, “Come talk to me.”
Draco smiled and almost bounced up the stairs.
They were in the room for only a moment before Harry had his arms around his waist and their lips together. Draco did not mind that at all and pushed his overflowing energy into the kiss.
“Talk, huh?” he said when Harry yanked on his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.
“Your fault. Your magic is going insane.” Harry’s hands were on his bare chest, up and down his skin, over his shoulders and then into his hair to yank him back for another heavy kiss.
“Huh?” Draco pulled away. Or tried to. Harry plastered himself to his side.
“Your magic,” Harry murmured against his neck. “It’s spiraling. Needs an outlet.”
“And you’ll let me outlet with you?”
“That was horrible.”
“Stop talking.”
The awkwardness was gone, thank Merlin. That morning seemed to have destroyed whatever tentativeness had existed between them. And whatever objections Draco had about this being too soon.
Oh, it was still too soon, but when the option was orgasm or not orgasm, Draco didn’t know any nineteen-year-old guy who would choose not. Well, except him, when he’d denied Harry the night before. And where had that left him? Horny only a few hours later and spreading his legs and practically begging Ron to fuck him.
Shite.
Harry pulled away almost abruptly. He waved a hand between them and their clothes slithered to the floor. Another wave had a complicated silencing charm and locking charm on the door. The symbols burned blue and red for a moment before being swallowed by green.
Draco smirked over at Harry. “Want me all to yourself, Potter?”
“Yes,” Harry said and threw himself at him. Well, not so violently, but their lips were together again, hands all over each other again, sliding over arms, down backs, gripping cocks. And walking. Moving back toward the bed.
Stumbling.
The bed was too large to really just fall and fuck, so Draco reluctantly let Harry go and followed Harry onto the bed.
“How fast is this going to be?” Draco asked.
Harry smirked at him, waved his hand over his own body, and said, “Fast. Fuck me.” He gripped behind his knees, spreading himself open, and Draco stared. Harry’s spelled had slicked him up and gleaming trails were already pulsing from his body.
“You know, there are things called healing spells,” Draco said, running a soft finger around the slickened hole that burned red. It pulsed under his fingertip, clenching tight and then gaping open in invitation.
Harry smiled, eyes fluttering shut as Draco pressed in a finger. “I like it. It reminds me of ... of ... well, of them. Soon to be you. Come on. Come on.”
Draco did not roll his eyes because he was a Malfoy, but lifted an eyebrow and stared down at him. “I’d ask if you are always this impatient, but I’ve spent almost eight years learning that that is true.”
Harry moved a hand just to flip him two fingers.
Draco laughed and put his hand in its place, keeping Harry’s knee bent. He leaned over him, other hand holding down his dick. Even with all the Malfoy upbringing, he wasn’t able to stop his shudder or huff of pleasure at the slickness along his cock. He pushed, sinking into Harry almost too much at once. Not too much for Harry, just for himself.
He fell forward, hands to either side of Harry’s head. Harry bent with him easily, knees hooked on Draco’s arms.
Draco moaned, finishing the thrust, until they were pressed together, and he just stopped, unable to do much more within the heat of Harry’s body.
Harry shifted and Draco let him, moving his arms until Harry’s legs were wrapped around his body, heels digging into his lower back. Draco pressed his forehead to Harry’s shoulder, body curved through a thrust, quick in and out. He gasped, the sound muffled on Harry’s skin, and he did it again.
When he could mostly breathe, he growled. “Merlin, Potter. Don’t get used to this. Next time, I’m going to play with you.”
Harry’s hands tangled in his hair and yanked his head up for a kiss.
“Lick you,” Draco promised. “Prep you. Without magic. Just my tongue and fingers.”
Harry moaned, hips lifting from the bed to get Draco to move.
Everything tightened around him, and Draco echoed his moan. “Going to tease you ... fuck, Harry.”
“Next time.”
They kissed again. Or more of their mouths just open and together, breathing together, closing every now and then.
Draco finally moved, hands holding him up at a good angle, hips snapping forward. There was no reason for slow if Harry wanted it hard and fast. Harry pulled his hair, Draco’s gasps broken with Harry’s whimpers. Their bodies were suddenly flush, together, just rocking, with Draco barely leaving the tightness and heat of Harry.
Within the haze, Draco felt the green touch of light around him. The feeling of being held and secure and home, and he gasped, pulling away from Harry’s mouth. Everything was green with Harry’s light. Draco decided he had to get used to that.
And used to Harry, below him, kissing him, touching him, whimpering for him to move. Please. Please. Please.
Draco glanced down at him and grinned. “You know you don’t have to beg me, right?”
Harry smiled. “You like it.”
“Ron likes it. I like you.”
Harry laughed. “Fine. I won’t beg. Now, shut up and fuck me until I come.”
Draco laughed with him. “Yes, sir.” He shifted back to his knees, gripping the strength of Harry’s thighs. He took a deep breath and gave Harry just what he wanted, dicking into him steadily. He watched for a moment the way he moved in and out of him, through the magicked slick, the rim stretching and clinging to him.
“Gods,” Draco moaned and gripped Harry’s dick, stroking him in time to his own thrusts.
Harry dug his nails into Draco’s arm, back arching off the bed, head pressed tight to the pillows. His moan echoed around them and he was coming, shooting ropes of his release up his stomach and chest, looking almost like another set of scars on the tanned expanse of skin.
Draco fell over him with a gasp, the pulses of his body pulling Draco’s orgasm from him almost violently. He rutted out his pleasure, his head going foggy and gray. A wicked wind twisted around them, blowing sweaty hair off his face, disturbing the hangings of the bed.
“Christ,” Harry said, body shaking. He buried his face against Draco’s shoulder and bit down. “Jesus Fucking Merlin.”
Within the pleasure still flinging through him, Draco realized that Harry was coming again.
The wind died to a soft breeze. It felt ... normal. Why not have a wind blowing through a room that had a window that was obviously and firmly shut?
Draco snorted.
Harry was still shaking, and Draco put his arm up under his back, curling against him, hips still moving a little.
“Shite, you feel so ... just so ...” Harry lifted his head and kissed him. He was crying.
Draco tried to hold him more tightly.
“You felt the wind,” Harry muttered. “You felt it. You can’t deny it. Please, don’t. I can’t ... I couldn’t handle it if you said no. I need you. We need you.”
Draco took a deep breath. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, but ...”
Harry pouted up at him, and Draco smiled.
“It’s too soon,” Draco whispered. “You’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond and connect myself to three people that ...”
Harry covered his mouth with a hand. “Shut up. You sound like Hermione.”
“You love each other?”
“Of course.”
“Then allow me that. You have an eight-year head start. I never grew up with delusions of love, Harry. I was betrothed to Daphne Greengrass. I was expected to marry and provide an heir for the Malfoy name. This is so far from that, so far from the expectations that I am used to. I need to have more time.”
Harry pouted again. “Fine, Ferret. Have your romance.”
Draco smiled. “It’s more than just romance. It’s trust. It’s respect. It’s enjoyment. And it’s also self-preservation. I almost died too many times already, and now you’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond that will kill me if one of you three die? I do not have the same connection to you. You have to understand that.”
Harry sighed. “I know. I understand that.”
“But?”
His frowned turned into a smirk. “But I want you. All of you. All to myself. Every bit of slimy, arrogant Slytherin.”
Draco chuckled. “All to yourself, huh? Does that mean you’re not going to lower the wards on the door and let the other two join us for the night?”
“That is exactly what it means.”
Part 8: Research is Foreplay
Part 6: Broomsticks and Snakes
Part 5: Forgiveness Under the Stars
Part 4: A Few of My Favorite Things
Part 3: Sexy Secrets
Part 2: School Days
Part 1: Home Sweet Home
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