Fic: Manorexic, Harry/Draco, NC-17
Title: Manorexic
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,630
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: sorry again about that huge gap between chapters. my laptop is still broken, but hopefully it will be fixed very soon.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour and katelinmr for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Seventeen
Harry had been playing Quidditch for seven years now. He wasn’t anxious before games anymore. Thus, there were no nerves to get in his way when he strode over to the Slytherin table at breakfast and asked Pansy Parkinson for a word. If there was ever a time he was glad Draco wasn’t at breakfast, it was today.
Pansy stared up at him for a moment, shock written across her face, but composed herself quickly despite the stares of everyone in the Hall and followed Harry out into the entrance hall.
“Did you - er - need something?” she asked.
“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you since that night a few weeks ago. I said I’d keep you up to date and I haven’t.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Well . . . that’s okay. I mean, you’ve been helping Draco quite a bit, and that’s really all that matters.”
Harry smiled at her and nodded. “How has he been with you?”
Pansy shrugged. “All right. Eating a bit now and then. I don’t think he’s been vomiting quite as much.”
Harry suddenly wished he’d spoken to her sooner. Indeed, if he had, he might have figured out earlier that Draco was lying to him. Even so, at least he’d promised last night that he’d stop, and that if he felt the need, he’d tell Harry. Harry chose not to tell Pansy this, if only because he wasn’t sure Draco would want her to know.
“You’ve been hanging around him in public,” she said suddenly. Harry flushed lightly and nodded.
“Yeah. My friends weren’t keen on the idea of me talking to him so much, so it doesn’t really matter. They’re not speaking to me. Well, Ron won’t speak to me. I think Hermione would if she wasn’t afraid Ron would break up with her or something.”
Pansy looked doubtful. “That doesn’t sound very Gryffindor to me.”
“Me either,” Harry said with a shrug. “But I don’t hold it against them. They’ll come round eventually. They always do. Being angry is too much work.”
Pansy considered him for a moment. “I never knew Dumbledore personally, but I have the strangest feeling he would have approved of that.”
Harry laughed, a wide smile curving his mouth upwards, and just barely resisted pulling her into a hug.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he chuckled. Pansy broke into a grin as well.
“Then people don’t say nice things to you enough. Although you’d think so, what with you having defeated the Dark Lord and all that.”
“I get plenty of praise,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. From her expression he thought he may have failed. “But that’s all it is. ‘Thank you for killing You-Know-Who!’ ‘You’re so brave!’ ‘You’re a hero!’ That’s not to say I don’t appreciate it, I do, it just gets . . . I don’t know . . . tiring, I guess.” He laughed weakly. “That sounds so arrogant.”
Pansy smiled. “It doesn’t. I know what you mean. Everyone else might not have realized it yet, but I think it’s clear you did what you did because you wanted to, not because you had to. If nothing else shows that, the fact that you’re willing to help Draco does. You never had to jump in and help him, but you did. Especially after he fought on the other side of the war.”
“None of you had a choice,” he said. Pansy’s eyes shone suddenly with something that looked like tears, but she appeared to hold them back. “I get that. Not everyone does, but I do. Now I do, at least. It wasn’t as though Draco could have walked out of the Manor and said, ‘Actually, Voldemort, I think I’ll go fight on the other side. This is getting a little weird for me. It’s been fun!’”
Pansy burst into laughter and Harry smiled.
“Things change after a war like that.”
Pansy paused to catch her breath and nodded her agreement. “Draco said he heard you say something about Snape the other day.” Harry blushed but didn’t deny it. He knew exactly what she was talking about. “He said you defended him to Goldstein.”
He nodded. “I plan on talking to the Ministry to get his name cleared once school is over,” he said. “I also want to see if I can get a portrait of him hung up in the Headmaster’s office.”
She looked astounded, perhaps having been ready to hear him deny it. “I don’t understand,” she said softly, her brows contracted.
Harry had been about to ask if she remembered what he’d said to Voldemort before he’d died, that Snape had been Dumbledore’s ever since he went after Lily Potter, but then he reminded himself that most of the Slytherins hadn’t been there. Especially not her.
“Snape was working for Dumbledore ever since the night he tried to kill me. He was a spy.”
Pansy’s mouth was agape. “But . . . but why?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some time.” He stopped and checked his watch. “Right now, though, I have to go play Quidditch.”
Pansy laughed. “Good luck. I’ll secretly be cheering for you. So will Draco, though he’ll never admit it.”
Harry squeezed her shoulder before turning to head back into the Great Hall and round up his team. His heart swelled at the knowledge that Pansy was wrong - Draco had already as good as told Harry he’d be there for him.
* * *
The Slytherin Seeker hovering on the other side of the pitch was the same boy - Harper, a bloke from Ginny’s year - who’d taken Draco’s place in sixth year when he’d been “too ill to play.” Harry smiled to himself at the memory, remembering how furious he’d been, how distraught at the knowledge that he couldn’t follow Draco and find out what he was up to.
But his thoughts were quickly shoved to the side when he saw Harper dive for something on his end of the pitch. He sped up for just a moment, raking the air for any glint of gold, and stopped when he saw Harper pull out of the worst feint he’d ever had the misfortune of witnessing. He felt almost embarrassed for the poor bloke.
He didn’t return his attention to his previous thoughts, but instead glanced at the Slytherin stands, succeeding in spotting Draco within only moments due to his hair. Next to him was Pansy, and though she was wrapped up in a Slytherin scarf and sported a similarly-themed hat, she seemed to be smiling, and Gryffindor was twenty points in the lead.
If winning the game didn’t still mean a lot to him, Harry might have flown over to there and kissed Draco on the spot, just because he looked so fucking cute in his winter clothes.
* * *
They won by fifty points, Harry having caught the Snitch when Slytherin had been leading by one hundred. His team just wasn’t in shape, and he knew it was mostly because of the current feud between himself and Ron. He hadn’t spoken to Ginny, but he was sure she’d been told, and besides, everyone in the school knew he was friendly with Draco now. It wasn’t as though they were going through any pains to hide it anymore.
Ron wouldn’t even look at Harry as they changed afterwards. Harry saw Ginny sneak a glance once. Dean was once again on the team as a Chaser and he seemed to be sticking to the rule he and Seamus had been living by ever since Ron had stopped talking to him and news had spread that Harry was hanging around with Draco: he simply didn’t talk to him unless there was a reason to do so. He wasn’t unfriendly when he did, but it grated on Harry’s nerves that Dean and Seamus could be that stupid.
The others - Demelza Robins and Peakes and Coote, who had been on his team sixth year - treated him vaguely the same way. Peakes and Coote were friendly enough most of the time and had slapped Harry on the back, at least, when they’d entered the changing room.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes as Ron and Ginny left together, followed by Demelza and then Coote and Peakes.
When he was alone, he stripped off his sweaty uniform and turned the shower on, placing a towel around his hips to wait until it heated up.
The moment he’d stepped under the hot spray he heard footsteps and his eyes sprang open. Who could that be? There was no reason for any of his teammates to have come back, especially since the only ones who would have before weren’t speaking to him.
He squealed in a most undignified way when Draco pushed the curtain of his stall back and smirked at him.
“Hi,” Harry said, eyebrows dipped in confusion. Draco grinned and stepped further into the stall, closing the curtain behind him. Harry felt heat simultaneously crawl up his face and down to his groin. The water instantly soaked Draco’s hair, making it look more golden than blond, and caused his clothes to stick to his body immodestly.
“I was waiting for you outside, and when everyone but you left I came to see what was keeping you. I didn’t know you shower in here.”
Harry laughed and grabbed Draco’s waist, pulling him flush against his own naked body. Draco blushed prettily, which was rather amusing considering he’d been the one to ambush Harry in the first place.
“How would you have? Unless you frequent the changing rooms often after I play?”
“Only this time, I’m afraid,” Draco said breathlessly. His hands had found their way onto Harry’s shoulders and he was digging his nails into the skin there.
Harry leaned forward, stopping when his lips were a millimeter from Draco’s. He could feel the other’s breath and smell a hint of syrup. He grinned.
“Pancakes?” he guessed.
“Waffles.”
Harry snorted and closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss that nevertheless had him reeling.
“But I didn’t see you at breakfast,” he said between kisses. And even as he pushed Draco up against the side of the stall, continuing to kiss his lips and his cheeks and his jaw, he was fumbling with the wet shirt and the buttons that wouldn’t seem to come undone.
“I stopped in the Great Hall just after you’d left.” Harry became fed up with the shirt and growled, ripping the front open and scattering buttons everywhere. “Hey! That was an expensive shirt!” Draco shouted. Harry kissed him again.
“Then you wouldn’t have gotten it wet.”
Draco glared at him. “Fuck you.”
Harry bit his lip and leaned close. “Gladly,” he whispered. He felt Draco shudder and reached for the belt looped into his trousers. He managed to steady his hands long enough to deal with more buttons and finally drag Draco’s trousers and pants down together. Had they not been wet and sticking to his body, Harry guessed they would have fallen straight to the ground. Draco gingerly stepped out of them and allowed Harry to remove his socks and shoes.
Draco was left naked, standing before Harry with his skinny body, his ribs and his hip bones sticking out, and Harry thought, despite how frightening it was, he’d never seen anyone so wonderful.
He kissed a trail up Draco’s leg, past his ribs, and up his neck as he stood.
“How are you so beautiful?”
“How can you think that?”
Harry shook his head and ran his hands down Draco’s pale body until he reached his cock, already curved up nearly against his stomach, and wrapped one hand around it. Draco hissed and buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s whole body tingled at the feeling of Draco’s breath on his neck.
“Draco,” Harry whispered as he stroked him, his other hand on Draco’s waist, trying to be as close to the other boy as was physically possible without actually being inside of him.
He swallowed hard.
“Draco,” he said again. Draco hummed against his shoulder. “Will you let me?”
He felt Draco freeze against him and he stopped stroking. Draco’s breath was harsh and hot and loud even with the sound of the water pouring over them together. When Draco didn’t respond for a few seconds Harry wrapped both arms around him and pulled him tightly against his body. Draco looked up and their eyes met.
“Let you what?”
His eyes moved back and forth between Draco’s gray ones, trying to think about what he was about to do at the same time that he forced himself not to. Anthony didn’t matter right now, morals didn’t matter right now; the only thing that mattered was Draco, the boy in front of him, pressed up against him, whom he wanted nothing more than to be connected to in the most intimate way two people could be connected.
“Let me fuck you.”
Draco’s grip on his arms tightened considerably.
Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck and kissed him there, earning another shudder and a gasp.
“I want you so much, Draco.”
He didn’t know if it was the words that did it, the kisses on his neck, or the use of his name, but before he could even contemplate what he would do if Draco agreed he heard him say, “Okay.”
Harry’s head snapped up, shocked at the easy acceptance. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d expected Draco to have agreed at all. But then Draco gave him a half smile and Harry stopped thinking about it.
“Are you . . . are you sure?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stop being bull-headed now, Potter.”
Harry bit the inside of his lip and smiled adoringly at Draco, feeling suddenly like he couldn’t go another moment without ravishing him. He swallowed and ran his hands down Draco’s stomach, delighting in the way the muscles trembled beneath the skin - hating the way he could feel how uncomfortable it made Draco. When he looked back up at him Draco was flushed and looked incredibly nervous.
“Turn around,” he said quietly. Their eyes stayed glued for another few seconds before Draco did as Harry had asked, putting his hands timidly on the wall of the shower stall. Harry’s mouth felt suddenly dry when he was greeted with the sight of Draco’s bare arse.
“You’re so lovely,” he whispered into Draco’s ear, skimming his fingers lightly down over his back and stopping on his cheeks. Draco shivered. Harry took a small breath and attached his lips to Draco’s neck again at the same time that he parted Draco’s arse with his thumbs. He heard Draco swallow. The feeling of running the pad of one thumb over his entrance was thrilling and scary simultaneously, and the fact that it was Draco Malfoy - something he didn’t think he would ever fully understand - made it all the more exhilarating.
The moment he pressed lightly with the tip of his thumb he felt Draco tighten reflexively.
“Relax,” he breathed. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”
Draco nodded, though it seemed stilted.
“They weren’t . . .” he paused, looking for the right word, Harry assumed, “. . . very gentle,” he said finally. Harry’s heart clenched.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”
He could literally feel Draco’s entire body relax a fraction at his words, and, quite interestingly, it made him feel more brilliant - more powerful, protective, and content - than he’d ever felt before, including after having defeated Voldemort.
Perhaps, he thought, it was because this was something he didn’t have to do; it wasn’t predicted or written in the stars, it hadn’t been Seen or foretold or planned out ahead of time. It was all him.
And Draco.
He smiled into Draco’s skin and slipped the tip of his finger - wet already from the shower and soap - into Draco’s arse. Draco sucked in a breath, but it sounded more surprised than painful.
“All right?”
“Fine.”
So Harry slipped his finger in further, noting that Draco seemed to relax even more as the seconds passed. By the time he reached his knuckle he was confident that it wouldn’t hurt Draco to start moving. He slid the finger out, and as he slid it back in Draco released a breath and his forehead fell forward against the wall.
The sound of Draco’s increased breathing with every stroke of his finger was causing whatever blood was left in Harry’s brain to rush toward his cock. He was only vaguely aware of having decided to slip another finger inside. He only became fully aware when Draco whimpered and thrust back minutely.
“There?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
The stall was filled with steam and the sound of their breathing. He’d only just begun to increase the speed of his fingers when Draco let out an actual moan that had Harry reeling.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m ready.”
Harry would have liked to think of himself as the kind of guy who could still think fairly clearly even when he was getting ready to fuck someone, but it just wasn’t so. He would have liked to be the kind of guy who would have made quite sure Draco was ready. As it stood, however, Draco’s words had him lathering his cock with soap and lining it up at Draco’s entrance as quickly as he could manage.
“Just . . . tell me if it hurts, though,” he managed to bite out. Draco nodded, and then he was pushing in. Draco groaned, though not in pain, and Harry had to close his eyes and dig his nails into Draco’s hips to keep from feeling completely overwhelmed by the mixture of intense emotion and incredible pleasure coursing through his entire being.
It took several minutes to bury himself entirely inside of Draco, and he wasn’t even completely conscious of himself the whole time. It was like his world had shrunk and consisted only of the places where he and Draco were touching, specifically his cock, which was literally being enveloped in incredible, tight, wet heat.
“Jesus fuck,” he rasped when his balls touched Draco’s arse. Draco made a noise which could have been a breathless laugh or a whimper. Harry couldn’t honestly tell. He only knew that he needed to move now or he might explode. “Okay?”
“Potter,” Draco said lightly. He turned his head so their eyes met and then kissed Harry gently. When he pulled away Harry took the time to skim over Draco’s face, finding himself astounded once again by his simple beauty. “I’m not a porcelain doll. I won’t break.”
And for some reason this statement made Harry feel like he might cry. He wrapped his arms around Draco and squeezed him tightly.
“I know,” he said. Draco smiled and turned back around. Harry leaned forward so his lips touched Draco’s ear. “But I don’t want to take the chance.”
Before Draco could respond Harry pulled out and pushed back in quickly, trying not to be rough, though he was sure he didn’t fully succeed. Thankfully, Draco’s groan told of only a small amount of pain, no doubt thanks to the numerous times he’d been fucked before, and soon Harry stopped worrying almost entirely. He allowed himself to stop thinking and just be. To enjoy Draco, his body, his presence, everything about him. The way he moaned when Harry would dig his fingers into his stomach, or how he would drag his nails down the wall when Harry would hit his prostate.
The best part, however, was the breathy, almost-too-soft-to-hear “Harry” that escaped Draco’s mouth when Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s erection. This nearly sent Harry over the edge and he began stroking Draco in time with his own thrusts, which were rapidly becoming erratic. When Draco finally cried out his release and clamped down on Harry’s cock, he squeezed Draco’s waist so tightly that when he came down from his own post-orgasm high the muscles in his arm were cramped and sore.
He was gentle when he pulled out and when he spun Draco around, as well as when he kissed him, though that took more effort.
He felt Draco smile against his lips and found himself laughing.
“You fuck like you do everything else,” Draco said eventually. “And exactly like I expected you to.” Harry kissed his cheek and wiped a few drops of water off his eyebrow with his thumb, though it made no difference, as the water continued to pour over them.
“How’s that?”
“You put everything you have into it, like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”
Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, though his heart swelled.
“Becomes a habit when you’re used to thinking everything very well could be the last thing you do.” Draco didn’t laugh, only looked contemplative. “Is that a bad thing?”
His heart had begun to speed up uncomfortably by the time Draco finally answered him.
“No.”
And then he kissed Harry, pouring so much raw feeling into it that Harry himself felt drained when it was over.
“Good job in the game today, by the way,” he said as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his torso, not just waist, and spelled his clothes dry. Harry watched from the stall as he donned the clothes.
“Yeah,” he said when Draco stood up from putting his shoes on. “But I only won because I didn’t have to play against you.”
The smile Draco graced him with before leaving the changing rooms made Harry think the sun itself could never hope to make him feel so warm.
Chapter Sixteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Eighteen
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,630
Summary: The Malfoys have always been very clear as to what they hold in high regard, such as wealth and blood purity, but as Pansy and Blaise found out in July of last year, there are some things that Lucius and Narcissa drilled into Draco's head from the time he was a little boy that left deeper impressions than even a Dark Mark.
Warnings: Eating Disorder
Author's Note: sorry again about that huge gap between chapters. my laptop is still broken, but hopefully it will be fixed very soon.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: The title of this fiction is an ambiguous word. No offense is meant by its use.
Thanks to themaohour and katelinmr for beta-ing. :)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Manorexic
Chapter Seventeen
Harry had been playing Quidditch for seven years now. He wasn’t anxious before games anymore. Thus, there were no nerves to get in his way when he strode over to the Slytherin table at breakfast and asked Pansy Parkinson for a word. If there was ever a time he was glad Draco wasn’t at breakfast, it was today.
Pansy stared up at him for a moment, shock written across her face, but composed herself quickly despite the stares of everyone in the Hall and followed Harry out into the entrance hall.
“Did you - er - need something?” she asked.
“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you since that night a few weeks ago. I said I’d keep you up to date and I haven’t.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Well . . . that’s okay. I mean, you’ve been helping Draco quite a bit, and that’s really all that matters.”
Harry smiled at her and nodded. “How has he been with you?”
Pansy shrugged. “All right. Eating a bit now and then. I don’t think he’s been vomiting quite as much.”
Harry suddenly wished he’d spoken to her sooner. Indeed, if he had, he might have figured out earlier that Draco was lying to him. Even so, at least he’d promised last night that he’d stop, and that if he felt the need, he’d tell Harry. Harry chose not to tell Pansy this, if only because he wasn’t sure Draco would want her to know.
“You’ve been hanging around him in public,” she said suddenly. Harry flushed lightly and nodded.
“Yeah. My friends weren’t keen on the idea of me talking to him so much, so it doesn’t really matter. They’re not speaking to me. Well, Ron won’t speak to me. I think Hermione would if she wasn’t afraid Ron would break up with her or something.”
Pansy looked doubtful. “That doesn’t sound very Gryffindor to me.”
“Me either,” Harry said with a shrug. “But I don’t hold it against them. They’ll come round eventually. They always do. Being angry is too much work.”
Pansy considered him for a moment. “I never knew Dumbledore personally, but I have the strangest feeling he would have approved of that.”
Harry laughed, a wide smile curving his mouth upwards, and just barely resisted pulling her into a hug.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he chuckled. Pansy broke into a grin as well.
“Then people don’t say nice things to you enough. Although you’d think so, what with you having defeated the Dark Lord and all that.”
“I get plenty of praise,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. From her expression he thought he may have failed. “But that’s all it is. ‘Thank you for killing You-Know-Who!’ ‘You’re so brave!’ ‘You’re a hero!’ That’s not to say I don’t appreciate it, I do, it just gets . . . I don’t know . . . tiring, I guess.” He laughed weakly. “That sounds so arrogant.”
Pansy smiled. “It doesn’t. I know what you mean. Everyone else might not have realized it yet, but I think it’s clear you did what you did because you wanted to, not because you had to. If nothing else shows that, the fact that you’re willing to help Draco does. You never had to jump in and help him, but you did. Especially after he fought on the other side of the war.”
“None of you had a choice,” he said. Pansy’s eyes shone suddenly with something that looked like tears, but she appeared to hold them back. “I get that. Not everyone does, but I do. Now I do, at least. It wasn’t as though Draco could have walked out of the Manor and said, ‘Actually, Voldemort, I think I’ll go fight on the other side. This is getting a little weird for me. It’s been fun!’”
Pansy burst into laughter and Harry smiled.
“Things change after a war like that.”
Pansy paused to catch her breath and nodded her agreement. “Draco said he heard you say something about Snape the other day.” Harry blushed but didn’t deny it. He knew exactly what she was talking about. “He said you defended him to Goldstein.”
He nodded. “I plan on talking to the Ministry to get his name cleared once school is over,” he said. “I also want to see if I can get a portrait of him hung up in the Headmaster’s office.”
She looked astounded, perhaps having been ready to hear him deny it. “I don’t understand,” she said softly, her brows contracted.
Harry had been about to ask if she remembered what he’d said to Voldemort before he’d died, that Snape had been Dumbledore’s ever since he went after Lily Potter, but then he reminded himself that most of the Slytherins hadn’t been there. Especially not her.
“Snape was working for Dumbledore ever since the night he tried to kill me. He was a spy.”
Pansy’s mouth was agape. “But . . . but why?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some time.” He stopped and checked his watch. “Right now, though, I have to go play Quidditch.”
Pansy laughed. “Good luck. I’ll secretly be cheering for you. So will Draco, though he’ll never admit it.”
Harry squeezed her shoulder before turning to head back into the Great Hall and round up his team. His heart swelled at the knowledge that Pansy was wrong - Draco had already as good as told Harry he’d be there for him.
* * *
The Slytherin Seeker hovering on the other side of the pitch was the same boy - Harper, a bloke from Ginny’s year - who’d taken Draco’s place in sixth year when he’d been “too ill to play.” Harry smiled to himself at the memory, remembering how furious he’d been, how distraught at the knowledge that he couldn’t follow Draco and find out what he was up to.
But his thoughts were quickly shoved to the side when he saw Harper dive for something on his end of the pitch. He sped up for just a moment, raking the air for any glint of gold, and stopped when he saw Harper pull out of the worst feint he’d ever had the misfortune of witnessing. He felt almost embarrassed for the poor bloke.
He didn’t return his attention to his previous thoughts, but instead glanced at the Slytherin stands, succeeding in spotting Draco within only moments due to his hair. Next to him was Pansy, and though she was wrapped up in a Slytherin scarf and sported a similarly-themed hat, she seemed to be smiling, and Gryffindor was twenty points in the lead.
If winning the game didn’t still mean a lot to him, Harry might have flown over to there and kissed Draco on the spot, just because he looked so fucking cute in his winter clothes.
* * *
They won by fifty points, Harry having caught the Snitch when Slytherin had been leading by one hundred. His team just wasn’t in shape, and he knew it was mostly because of the current feud between himself and Ron. He hadn’t spoken to Ginny, but he was sure she’d been told, and besides, everyone in the school knew he was friendly with Draco now. It wasn’t as though they were going through any pains to hide it anymore.
Ron wouldn’t even look at Harry as they changed afterwards. Harry saw Ginny sneak a glance once. Dean was once again on the team as a Chaser and he seemed to be sticking to the rule he and Seamus had been living by ever since Ron had stopped talking to him and news had spread that Harry was hanging around with Draco: he simply didn’t talk to him unless there was a reason to do so. He wasn’t unfriendly when he did, but it grated on Harry’s nerves that Dean and Seamus could be that stupid.
The others - Demelza Robins and Peakes and Coote, who had been on his team sixth year - treated him vaguely the same way. Peakes and Coote were friendly enough most of the time and had slapped Harry on the back, at least, when they’d entered the changing room.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes as Ron and Ginny left together, followed by Demelza and then Coote and Peakes.
When he was alone, he stripped off his sweaty uniform and turned the shower on, placing a towel around his hips to wait until it heated up.
The moment he’d stepped under the hot spray he heard footsteps and his eyes sprang open. Who could that be? There was no reason for any of his teammates to have come back, especially since the only ones who would have before weren’t speaking to him.
He squealed in a most undignified way when Draco pushed the curtain of his stall back and smirked at him.
“Hi,” Harry said, eyebrows dipped in confusion. Draco grinned and stepped further into the stall, closing the curtain behind him. Harry felt heat simultaneously crawl up his face and down to his groin. The water instantly soaked Draco’s hair, making it look more golden than blond, and caused his clothes to stick to his body immodestly.
“I was waiting for you outside, and when everyone but you left I came to see what was keeping you. I didn’t know you shower in here.”
Harry laughed and grabbed Draco’s waist, pulling him flush against his own naked body. Draco blushed prettily, which was rather amusing considering he’d been the one to ambush Harry in the first place.
“How would you have? Unless you frequent the changing rooms often after I play?”
“Only this time, I’m afraid,” Draco said breathlessly. His hands had found their way onto Harry’s shoulders and he was digging his nails into the skin there.
Harry leaned forward, stopping when his lips were a millimeter from Draco’s. He could feel the other’s breath and smell a hint of syrup. He grinned.
“Pancakes?” he guessed.
“Waffles.”
Harry snorted and closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss that nevertheless had him reeling.
“But I didn’t see you at breakfast,” he said between kisses. And even as he pushed Draco up against the side of the stall, continuing to kiss his lips and his cheeks and his jaw, he was fumbling with the wet shirt and the buttons that wouldn’t seem to come undone.
“I stopped in the Great Hall just after you’d left.” Harry became fed up with the shirt and growled, ripping the front open and scattering buttons everywhere. “Hey! That was an expensive shirt!” Draco shouted. Harry kissed him again.
“Then you wouldn’t have gotten it wet.”
Draco glared at him. “Fuck you.”
Harry bit his lip and leaned close. “Gladly,” he whispered. He felt Draco shudder and reached for the belt looped into his trousers. He managed to steady his hands long enough to deal with more buttons and finally drag Draco’s trousers and pants down together. Had they not been wet and sticking to his body, Harry guessed they would have fallen straight to the ground. Draco gingerly stepped out of them and allowed Harry to remove his socks and shoes.
Draco was left naked, standing before Harry with his skinny body, his ribs and his hip bones sticking out, and Harry thought, despite how frightening it was, he’d never seen anyone so wonderful.
He kissed a trail up Draco’s leg, past his ribs, and up his neck as he stood.
“How are you so beautiful?”
“How can you think that?”
Harry shook his head and ran his hands down Draco’s pale body until he reached his cock, already curved up nearly against his stomach, and wrapped one hand around it. Draco hissed and buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s whole body tingled at the feeling of Draco’s breath on his neck.
“Draco,” Harry whispered as he stroked him, his other hand on Draco’s waist, trying to be as close to the other boy as was physically possible without actually being inside of him.
He swallowed hard.
“Draco,” he said again. Draco hummed against his shoulder. “Will you let me?”
He felt Draco freeze against him and he stopped stroking. Draco’s breath was harsh and hot and loud even with the sound of the water pouring over them together. When Draco didn’t respond for a few seconds Harry wrapped both arms around him and pulled him tightly against his body. Draco looked up and their eyes met.
“Let you what?”
His eyes moved back and forth between Draco’s gray ones, trying to think about what he was about to do at the same time that he forced himself not to. Anthony didn’t matter right now, morals didn’t matter right now; the only thing that mattered was Draco, the boy in front of him, pressed up against him, whom he wanted nothing more than to be connected to in the most intimate way two people could be connected.
“Let me fuck you.”
Draco’s grip on his arms tightened considerably.
Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck and kissed him there, earning another shudder and a gasp.
“I want you so much, Draco.”
He didn’t know if it was the words that did it, the kisses on his neck, or the use of his name, but before he could even contemplate what he would do if Draco agreed he heard him say, “Okay.”
Harry’s head snapped up, shocked at the easy acceptance. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d expected Draco to have agreed at all. But then Draco gave him a half smile and Harry stopped thinking about it.
“Are you . . . are you sure?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stop being bull-headed now, Potter.”
Harry bit the inside of his lip and smiled adoringly at Draco, feeling suddenly like he couldn’t go another moment without ravishing him. He swallowed and ran his hands down Draco’s stomach, delighting in the way the muscles trembled beneath the skin - hating the way he could feel how uncomfortable it made Draco. When he looked back up at him Draco was flushed and looked incredibly nervous.
“Turn around,” he said quietly. Their eyes stayed glued for another few seconds before Draco did as Harry had asked, putting his hands timidly on the wall of the shower stall. Harry’s mouth felt suddenly dry when he was greeted with the sight of Draco’s bare arse.
“You’re so lovely,” he whispered into Draco’s ear, skimming his fingers lightly down over his back and stopping on his cheeks. Draco shivered. Harry took a small breath and attached his lips to Draco’s neck again at the same time that he parted Draco’s arse with his thumbs. He heard Draco swallow. The feeling of running the pad of one thumb over his entrance was thrilling and scary simultaneously, and the fact that it was Draco Malfoy - something he didn’t think he would ever fully understand - made it all the more exhilarating.
The moment he pressed lightly with the tip of his thumb he felt Draco tighten reflexively.
“Relax,” he breathed. “You said you’ve done this before, right?”
Draco nodded, though it seemed stilted.
“They weren’t . . .” he paused, looking for the right word, Harry assumed, “. . . very gentle,” he said finally. Harry’s heart clenched.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”
He could literally feel Draco’s entire body relax a fraction at his words, and, quite interestingly, it made him feel more brilliant - more powerful, protective, and content - than he’d ever felt before, including after having defeated Voldemort.
Perhaps, he thought, it was because this was something he didn’t have to do; it wasn’t predicted or written in the stars, it hadn’t been Seen or foretold or planned out ahead of time. It was all him.
And Draco.
He smiled into Draco’s skin and slipped the tip of his finger - wet already from the shower and soap - into Draco’s arse. Draco sucked in a breath, but it sounded more surprised than painful.
“All right?”
“Fine.”
So Harry slipped his finger in further, noting that Draco seemed to relax even more as the seconds passed. By the time he reached his knuckle he was confident that it wouldn’t hurt Draco to start moving. He slid the finger out, and as he slid it back in Draco released a breath and his forehead fell forward against the wall.
The sound of Draco’s increased breathing with every stroke of his finger was causing whatever blood was left in Harry’s brain to rush toward his cock. He was only vaguely aware of having decided to slip another finger inside. He only became fully aware when Draco whimpered and thrust back minutely.
“There?” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
The stall was filled with steam and the sound of their breathing. He’d only just begun to increase the speed of his fingers when Draco let out an actual moan that had Harry reeling.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m ready.”
Harry would have liked to think of himself as the kind of guy who could still think fairly clearly even when he was getting ready to fuck someone, but it just wasn’t so. He would have liked to be the kind of guy who would have made quite sure Draco was ready. As it stood, however, Draco’s words had him lathering his cock with soap and lining it up at Draco’s entrance as quickly as he could manage.
“Just . . . tell me if it hurts, though,” he managed to bite out. Draco nodded, and then he was pushing in. Draco groaned, though not in pain, and Harry had to close his eyes and dig his nails into Draco’s hips to keep from feeling completely overwhelmed by the mixture of intense emotion and incredible pleasure coursing through his entire being.
It took several minutes to bury himself entirely inside of Draco, and he wasn’t even completely conscious of himself the whole time. It was like his world had shrunk and consisted only of the places where he and Draco were touching, specifically his cock, which was literally being enveloped in incredible, tight, wet heat.
“Jesus fuck,” he rasped when his balls touched Draco’s arse. Draco made a noise which could have been a breathless laugh or a whimper. Harry couldn’t honestly tell. He only knew that he needed to move now or he might explode. “Okay?”
“Potter,” Draco said lightly. He turned his head so their eyes met and then kissed Harry gently. When he pulled away Harry took the time to skim over Draco’s face, finding himself astounded once again by his simple beauty. “I’m not a porcelain doll. I won’t break.”
And for some reason this statement made Harry feel like he might cry. He wrapped his arms around Draco and squeezed him tightly.
“I know,” he said. Draco smiled and turned back around. Harry leaned forward so his lips touched Draco’s ear. “But I don’t want to take the chance.”
Before Draco could respond Harry pulled out and pushed back in quickly, trying not to be rough, though he was sure he didn’t fully succeed. Thankfully, Draco’s groan told of only a small amount of pain, no doubt thanks to the numerous times he’d been fucked before, and soon Harry stopped worrying almost entirely. He allowed himself to stop thinking and just be. To enjoy Draco, his body, his presence, everything about him. The way he moaned when Harry would dig his fingers into his stomach, or how he would drag his nails down the wall when Harry would hit his prostate.
The best part, however, was the breathy, almost-too-soft-to-hear “Harry” that escaped Draco’s mouth when Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s erection. This nearly sent Harry over the edge and he began stroking Draco in time with his own thrusts, which were rapidly becoming erratic. When Draco finally cried out his release and clamped down on Harry’s cock, he squeezed Draco’s waist so tightly that when he came down from his own post-orgasm high the muscles in his arm were cramped and sore.
He was gentle when he pulled out and when he spun Draco around, as well as when he kissed him, though that took more effort.
He felt Draco smile against his lips and found himself laughing.
“You fuck like you do everything else,” Draco said eventually. “And exactly like I expected you to.” Harry kissed his cheek and wiped a few drops of water off his eyebrow with his thumb, though it made no difference, as the water continued to pour over them.
“How’s that?”
“You put everything you have into it, like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”
Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes, though his heart swelled.
“Becomes a habit when you’re used to thinking everything very well could be the last thing you do.” Draco didn’t laugh, only looked contemplative. “Is that a bad thing?”
His heart had begun to speed up uncomfortably by the time Draco finally answered him.
“No.”
And then he kissed Harry, pouring so much raw feeling into it that Harry himself felt drained when it was over.
“Good job in the game today, by the way,” he said as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his torso, not just waist, and spelled his clothes dry. Harry watched from the stall as he donned the clothes.
“Yeah,” he said when Draco stood up from putting his shoes on. “But I only won because I didn’t have to play against you.”
The smile Draco graced him with before leaving the changing rooms made Harry think the sun itself could never hope to make him feel so warm.
Chapter Sixteen | Page of Contents | Chapter Eighteen