Happy H/D Holidays, dark0feenix!
Author/Artist: lizardspots
Recipient: dark0feenix
Title: Healthy Sportsmanship
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Who'd have thought the worst part about being a Quidditch medic wasn't the stress and disgusting bodily fluids, but the ordeal of caring for the Cannons' star player Harry Potter?
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 10,800
Warnings: NWS artwork within the fic.
Author's Notes: I hope you like this, dark0feenix - it was a first for me in a plethora of ways. Happy H/D holidays! :D Thanks to N and S for beta-ing this into something reasonable.
Healthy Sportsmanship
12th February 2006, 4:03pm
Draco jogged to the mess of medics and wailing Quidditch players in centre pitch, brand new Healer kit at the ready. He edged in towards the crowd of medics, trying to offer his assistance on what was proving to be a rather dramatic first day at the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Club. Two broken ankles, one dislocated shoulder, one suspected spinal injury, four sprained wrists, three serious concussion and numerous cuts and bruises. Without appearing too obvious, he tiptoed to get a better view of who the various injuries belonged to, scanning each grimacing player's face.
Suddenly, a puffing red face pushed into view. "Draco, for god's sake, go make yourself useful and treat the minors, you'll only get in the way here. Think you can manage that?"
He barely had time to frown before Matthias, the team leader, disappeared back into the melee. Draco set to work, cataloguing the whinger, the hard nut pretending her massive bruises didn't hurt, and the embarrassed one who'd somehow been smacked in the balls with a Beater stick. He meted out antiseptic warding spells and topical numbing agents without fuss, and was feeling quite proud of himself for keeping everything under control until he caught sight of an unconscious player in a cushioned Mobilicorpus whooshing past him, trailed by three senior medics. His dark hair was caked with dirt, and his cut-open robes revealed a protruding broken rib.
Harry Potter.
* * * * *
15th February 2006, 10:11am
Potter gingerly took a deep breath, exhaling slowly against the dull pain radiating from his left side. "So how long have you been working here?"
He got no response at first, but Draco eventually mumbled, "Three days," as he observed the chest scan with more concentration than necessary. "According to this, your ribs are nearly healed, but you'll still hurt like Crucio for a few weeks. Couldn't say for certain about your head injury, not that a knock on the skull could worsen your intelligence."
Potter huffed. "Should have known you wouldn't change. Can't you just give it a rest? At least I was trying to be polite." He scratched his indignantly twitching nose.
"I'm never polite, Potter." Draco dissipated the scan with a snap before pocketing his wand. "Keep taking the pain killers if you need them. I'd give you the longer lasting ones, but they have nasty side effects, and numbing charms won’t do much for you."
"Oh, joy." Potter lay back down on the uncomfortable bed and laboriously settled the blankets over his bruised and bandaged torso.
Draco appeared unmoved. As he walked about the examination room packing away his kit, he suddenly lifted his head, grinning. "How is it that in every Quidditch match, you always end up pulverised the most? You're either extremely unlucky or my wishes for your eventual grisly death actually work."
"Fuck off, Malfoy. I'm going to sleep."
* * * * *
22nd February 2006, 1:16pm
"Mmmph um imph oom?"
"What?" Draco yelled from inside the supply cupboard.
"I said," Potter replied once he’d extricated his head from the T-shirt he’d been pulling off, "Where should I put my glasses?"
Draco mentally ticked off what equipment he needed for Potter’s first physio session. He cast a spell at the door of the room and the word "Occupied" appeared in glowing green letters in the painted wood. Where was the bloody high-step block?
"Anywhere, just, on a table somewhere out of the way." Ah, there it was. He plucked the miniature foam blocks out of their drawer and put them in his tunic pocket. "Are you decent?"
"You told me to strip off!"
"I know." Draco popped his head round the door and was greeted with the sight of a trim vest-clad back. "Not good enough, Potter. Vest and trousers off."
Potter turned round, fingers spread over his stomach protectively. "But it’s freezing in here!"
"Then put a Warming Charm on yourself - what kind of wizard are you?" He ignored Potter’s grumbles and took out his pocketful of shrunken equipment, enlarging them one by one and arranging them in a row. "If you’re done dithering about... right. Today we’ll start with some light movements at your hips and back. Your injured knee doesn't seem to be bothering you much, so priority is your hips. Right?"
Potter scratched his chin. "Um--"
"Right. Come over here for warm up," Draco pointed sternly at the bench in front of him. Potter padded softly in only socks and boxers and perched on the bench, legs dangling. He took his glasses off and set them beside him, mouth pursed and large green eyes staring patiently at him. Draco looked away from that arresting gaze down to the limbs in question. And what a despicably fine set of legs they were, too. Slightly tanned, and lean... and surprisingly hairy, Draco snickered inwardly. But then he made the mistake of looking up at Potter and got caught halfway by the delicious set of shoulders before him, the strong elegant neck in the vicinity, the slim, tightly muscled chest neighbouring it. His eyes strayed to a nipple and fuck, now he knew the colour of Harry Potter’s nipples. And they were getting peaky in the cool air. Fuck.
Draco was not checking Potter out. No. Out of the question. Unacceptable.
He cleared his throat with business-like comportment. Potter jumped at the sound, which was when Draco realised he was wearing a particularly offensive grimace. "For god’s sake, I’m not going to kill you, as much as it would please me to do so. Sit down."
"I am sitting down."
"Yes. Now," he placed a palm on Potter's right knee, "Raise your leg and press as hard as you can against my hand. Good, relax and do it again." Draco slipped both hands underneath Potter's left leg. "This time press down against my hands as hard as you can." The back of Potter's knee was very soft and smooth. Slightly sweaty, too, and perfect for stroking.
Potter twitched. "Hey, that tickles!" Draco wrenched away at lightning speed. Bugger bugger bugger, he hadn't meant to do that. Draco wiped his hands down his tunic and skittered back to his clipboard, ready to move on. But he knew he couldn't get away with skipping the warm up exercises or Potter would end up with even more strained muscles. And then he'd have to come for more physio. And Draco would be even more miserable. He steeled himself and went back to Potter's knees, concentrating very hard on not stroking them, or looking at the nipples conveniently at eye level. Potter just sat there and did as he was told, not knowing how close Draco was to giving himself an aneurysm. The whole situation would have been hilarious if it weren't so dreadful and if it weren't happening to him.
Draco mentally added "Need to get laid" to his to-do list. This effeminate squirming over Potter was just beyond the pale.
Draco finished off with an awkward pat to the accursed knees. "Right, now lay on your back on the bench and I’ll do a quick bodyscan before we begin the..." Draco trailed off as Potter immediately complied. "Before we begin the more taxing exercises." His patient wriggled into a more comfortable position, the tanned skin over his abdominal muscles catching the light as they flexed. His perfect, flat, little navel seemed to wink at him insolently.
"Okay." Draco swallowed. "Okay. Just relax, I'll be manoeuvring your legs around for you. Do what you like with your arms, as long as they don't get in the way and you're keeping your legs all floppy." Potter gingerly did as instructed, carefully arranging himself so as not to jar his injuries, his arms resting above his head and his fingers curled.
Like a centrefold, Draco’s addled brain supplied, unable to resist a peek at Potter's underarm hair, and of course that led to yet another detour across his pectorals, clavicles and deltoids. There was a scar just to the left of Potter's sternum, and Draco opened his mouth to ask about it before snapping his jaw shut. If this were any other patient, he'd have needed to know what the scar had been caused by, but somehow Draco couldn't bring himself to point it out. Because then Potter would know that Draco was eying up his chest and armpits, and that would have been terrible.
Draco pulled out his wand. Potter eyed it with distrust, but he remained as he was like a good little patient. Draco thought back to his school days, and the unholy glee he would have taken from being presented with Potter supine and wandless. Somehow Draco felt he would have thought differently back then if Potter had only been wearing his schoolboy boxers. At present, the boxers in question had begun to ride lower on Potter's hips, revealing a few thicker longer strands of hair forming a line from his navel downwards.
Oh, boy.
Draco blinked to clear his head and pointed his wand at Potter’s sternum. "Ready?" He didn't give Potter time to respond before casting the body scan, and Potter quivered. "All clear. Now relax your legs completely," he ordered, feeling distressed as Potter spread his thighs a little. Draco grasped Potter's calf and started the exercises more forcefully than he should have.
"Ow! Malfoy, what are you trying to do, tear it off?"
"Well, you're not relaxing fully."
"I’m trying! It hurts," Potter glared defiantly, not quite hiding a wince of pain; Draco instantly felt contrite, then scolded himself for feeling contrite. He continued the exercises with more care this time, and Potter settled into them, cringing only occasionally.
Back Draco went to his clipboard, and almost groaned out loud at what he had to do next. Shit. He only hoped that Potter's predictable indignation would let him off. Draco plastered a smirk to his face. "Potter, for the next part of your regime, you have to lose the shorts."
"WHAT!?" Potter leaped up from the bench, clutching his boxers like an outraged maiden.
Draco forced a laugh, turning the clipboard and pointing. "See? It says right here."
Potter scowled at the clipboard, scowled up at Draco, then scowled down at his boxers. With a huff of breath to gather his courage, Potter started tugging them down.
"Wait wait wait! What on earth are you doing??" Draco instinctively reached out towards him, then jerked his hands back in time before they'd touched. Oh dear, he could see hip bones.
Potter blinked. "I'm doing exactly what you told me to."
"But you're not..."
"What?"
Draco resisted the urge to smack his own head. He didn't get paid enough for this. "Never mind. But don't take them off yet, idiot Gryffindor," he muttered. "Get back on the bench and lie face down."
Potter looked at him, tugging his boxers up. "You want me to lie down with no shorts on and my arse in the air."
Draco sighed. "Yes. Now-"
"Are you absolutely certain-"
"Yes, for Merlin's sake, just do as I say and let me finish your session then we can both go home and forget this ever happened."
"I thought you were working 'til 6 tonight?"
"Potter! Bench, now." Potter finally complied, grumbling as he settled down. Draco Accio-ed a blanket from his bag and tossed it over Potter's goose-pimply legs. He lifted up and looked at Draco in surprise. "You'd said you were cold," Draco shrugged. He had to strain to hear Potter's reluctant thanks. Draco rolled his eyes and conjured a splodge of antiseptic gel into his palm and rubbed it over his hands.
Potter sniffed disdainfully at the pungent odour. "Are you this much of a prick to all your patients?" he mumbled into his folded hands, his back tensing at the touch of Draco’s cold fingers.
"Only you, Potter."
"Well, I feel extra special." Draco could see the corner of Potter's mouth lifting in a reluctant smile, his eyes crinkling.
Draco squashed his own urge to grin in return and began kneading at Potter’s upper back gently. His breathing eventually slowed and deepened until Potter seemed so relaxed his head could have rolled right off his shoulders. "That feels really good. Never thought I’d survive physio with you."
Draco smiled tightly. "I am always professional." He took a deep breath. "I'll need to tug your shorts down a bit for this next massage."
Potter sighed, "Alright, fine, let's get it over with."
Draco continued, "I've done this for other players too, so don't think this is some weird perverted thing to get you naked. The gluteals play an essential role in leg injuries and it's vital that I-"
"Malfoy, it's okay, I don't mind. Just do it - worse things have happened to me than you fondling my bum," Potter sniggered.
Draco laughed slightly hysterically. "Right." He took a deep breath to brace himself and tugged down Potter's boxers... and there they were. Potter's buttocks. Pale, round, pert and surprisingly, not daunting in the slightest. Relieved at finding his composure at last, Draco cast a heat aura onto his hands and set his fingers into Potter's pale flesh, pressing and kneading the muscles. Potter twitched lightly at a particularly firm press of his thumbs at the base of his spine, and then sighed as Draco worked his fingers symmetrically down each buttock. Draco was thankful that Potter couldn't see his face - he felt like he'd gone into rigor mortis with tension to stop himself from running very far away from Potter's now pinked bottom.
"Are you done?" Draco jumped at the question. "You've stopped." And so he had, his fingers just resting on Potter's warm flesh. The sight of his hands framing Potter's arse instantly put him in mind of gay porn. The next step would obviously be grabbing each cheek and separating them to do all manner of obscene things to what was revealed between. Draco's fingertips burned with the instinct to do just that.
He whipped his hands away. "Yes, I'm done."
Potter immediately reached back to pull his boxers back up and sat up on the bench. He wiggled from side to side. "That felt quite nice, actually," Potter grinned. "Thanks."
"Hmm," Draco mumbled distantly.
"See? Told you it wouldn't be that traumatic."
"Yeah. Not traumatic at all."
* * * * *
29th March 2006, 10:31am
"Long time no see, Scarhead."
"Actually, my scar's been fading away since killing Voldemort-" Potter paused to watch the slight twitch Draco couldn't hide, "so 'Scarhead' isn't quite right. But I can still call you a pasty faced ferret. Ow! Watch it!"
Draco smirked. "I am." He Banished the excess ointment from Potter's knee. "Alright, get up then and walk about a bit, tell me if there's any pain even with the numbing ointment." Potter hopped off the bed and dutifully marched back and forth, shaking his head with a satisfied expression on his face.
"Nope, all better now. Thanks ever so much, Healer Malfoy!" he chirped in a swoony voice. Draco's face shuttered at the reminder that he was unlikely to ever earn such a title. The surprised look on Potter's face only made him angrier. "What's wrong? It was only a joke, Malfoy. You know? Joke? Being funny?"
"Yeah I know," Draco said stiffly, turning away to dispose of the used swabs and wash his hands in the adjacent sink. But like a persistent little Niffler, Potter couldn't resist pouring salt into the wound.
"Why didn't you become a Healer, Malfoy? You were always smart, much as it annoys me to admit, heh. Weren't you able to-" he stopped, receiving his answer in the bitter twist of Draco's lips.
"Healer Death Eater doesn't really have the right ring to it, does it, Potter? This is the nearest to Healing that I could get into."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise-"
"Of course you didn't realise." Draco fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, before noticing what he was doing and smoothing it down again and looking back at his patient. "I don't want to talk about it," he said briskly.
Potter coughed. "Ok."
* * * * *
9th April 2006, 6:53pm
Draco's first thought was that the moron was getting his stitches wet. Potter had met with an unfortunate incident in the Ballycastle Bats match on Saturday involving a brain-dead Quidditch hooligan who'd stripped all his clothes off and run into the path of Potter's low-flying broom. He'd swerved out of the fan’s way and ploughed straight into the first row of spectators. As usual, he had come off worse than any other victims in the collision.
Draco’s second thought was that Potter had to be the stupidest, most reckless tripe-for-brains ape he’d ever known. This had been the downfall of the Dark Lord? Anyone could have walked in here, and he hadn’t even bothered to ward the doors to the locker room, never mind Silencio-ing his shower cubicle.
Draco’s third thought was a resounding "Fuck it" as he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and slipped silently into the communal showers. The steam condensed on his skin and wafted into his nostrils, carrying with it a whiff of Potter’s shampoo. He cursed inwardly as the water on the cold tiles seeped through his soft indoor shoes, and cursed again since a drying spell was out of the question now that his quarry was in hearing range.
A breathless huff reached his ears amidst the spattering and gurgling water. The clouds of steam seemed to part like billowing curtains, and there was Potter a mere ten feet away from him, slouched comfortably against the side of his cubicle. The hot water sprayed onto the back of Potter’s head and shoulders as he bent forward to watch his hand moving slowly over his cock. His other hand smoothed traces of soap over his skin, sliding over his chest and belly briefly before making the downward journey to rest on his thigh. He was clearly taking his time, washing every bit of flesh with his leisurely fingers.
Had he been reduced to this for kicks? Spying on the Quidditch players getting intimate with soapsuds in the shower? It was like school again. Or bad voyeurism porn. Starring Horny Harry Potter and his Magic Wang. Draco smirked at the thought.
Not that Potter was anything special, of course. Draco would have reacted the same way if it had been any other man. Some of the players on the team were quite fine specimens of the male human form. And as a red-blooded homosexual man with a healthy sex drive, he would know.
The fact that he’d had an erection that could break walls the moment he realised who was in the shower was beside the point.
Draco edged further towards the cubicle; a few droplets of water splashed onto his skin as they bounced off Potter’s body. His feet were soaked through and the water was now making steady progress up his trouser legs, but he didn’t care; he was so close he was practically standing in the shower with Potter. Potter's hand curled around his cock once again, this time with purpose, and Draco's stomach clenched in anticipation. He heard the first gasp to escape the parted lips, every squelch as Potter ran his wet fist up and down his cock with hypnotic regularity. Water streamed down Potter’s skin, bouncing off his shoulders, skipping past his nipples, running down the centre of his torso to soak his pubic hair and trickle over his cock. Draco watched, mesmerised, as Potter turned around to face the spray of water, lifting his head and parting his reddened, bite-swollen lips.
Draco couldn’t help it. He let out a tiny moan.
Potter’s eyes popped open.
Draco stopped breathing. His heart pounded so hard he was worried it'd burst. Every muscle in his body clenched with abject terror.
But Potter only closed his eyes once again and kept working his cock, his pace picking up until he was panting. He was really putting his back into it now, and as he raised one arm to support himself against the tiles, his wet spiky lashes blinked open and two grass-green eyes looked straight at Draco.
Oh fuck. Oh Merlin-sodding cock-shagging fuck. He was still going, Potter was still wanking away and looking right at him, and oh Merlin. Potter dropped his head forward to rest on the tiles alongside his arm, his fist flying, his buttocks and back tensing as he let out an almighty groan, squeezed his eyes shut and came all over the tiles before him. There was semen on the soap dish, on his hand and both feet, on the pipes running down from the shower head, even on the shampoo bottle sitting innocently apart from the action.
As Potter’s breaths quieted, he opened his eyes. Even from a distance, Draco could see they were dark and heavy with sex. Potter parted his ripe mouth and whispered a single word.
"Fuck."
Draco made his escape.
* * * * *
14th April 2006, 3:31pm
Joanna Stilton really did have fabulous breasts. Draco was getting an eye-to-chest view of said anatomy as he tended to Joanna's sprained ankle at the pitch side. Her tight green and gold uniform did everything it could to enhance her assets - even as he turned away to grab some swabs from his bag, his eyes couldn't wait to get back to staring at her. In fact, Draco was 90% certain that there was a subtle enticement charm woven into the fabric, because normally breasts didn't do it for him. He was more of a legs and bottom man. And shoulders, firm muscled sweat-slick shoulders. Not breasts.
Draco started when Joanna giggled, which was when he realised he was ogling again. It really explained why the Holyhead Harpies were so successful - the opposition weren't looking at Snitches and Quaffles, they were looking at charmed breasts. Either that, or the Harpies selected their team very carefully, and not on playing ability alone. By the look on Joanna's face, they obviously hadn't considered N.E.W.T. scores in their selection, either. Salazar save him from pea-brained busty females.
"I didn't see you at the last Away match we had a few months ago. Are you new around here?" the woman simpered in her Brummie accent.
"Mm."
"What's your name?"
"Malfoy."
"Oh! Are you related to that Lucius Malfoy? He got executed a couple of years ago, didn't he?"
Draco gritted his teeth, annoyance allowing him to break the enticement and look away from her chest. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
"Oh no, love, I'm fine now. Thanks to you," she fluttered her lashes at him, and now Draco really was going to be sick.
He looked at her, completely deadpan. "I'm gay. Stop nattering at me." He smirked at her gasp of outrage, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and leaving her to get off the ground herself and back into the game.
The Chudley Cannons beat the Holyhead Harpies, 240-190.
Matthias called for him at the end of the match to check on Potter's shoulder. "Looks like he wrenched it a little whilst doing some fancy backward roll flying thing. Just give him a rub down and slap on a numbing salve, okay? Don't spend too long, it's late and we need to lock up the office soon." Draco waited outside the changing rooms for Potter, studiously reading the fascinating poster beside the door on what to do in the event of a Troll attack, willing himself not to think about what had happened in these very showers last week. No, he would be professional and distant. Besides, Potter probably hadn't noticed him, he was so involved in his wanking session...
Fuck, now he was thinking about it again. And who was Draco kidding? Of course Potter had noticed him, he'd looked straight at him as he came. It was the hottest thing Draco had seen in years, damn him to Hades. He smacked his head against the emergency Troll-attack poster. He really needed to get laid soon, this sexual obsession with Potter was getting way out of hand. He'd go fuck some stranger from a club, but he knew it wouldn't help. It was also depressingly uncouth and plebian; Malfoys did not fuck random disease-infested strangers from clubs.
Neither did they fuck arch nemeses with black messy hair and glasses, he told his libido sternly. He couldn't believe he was mooning over Potter. It was embarrassing.
Potter finally came out of the showers, wearing a tight white vest and tracksuit bottoms. His hair was wet and curling at the ends. He looked, to put it bluntly, absolutely edible. Draco cursed inwardly.
"Matthias said you hurt your shoulder. Come to the office, I'll give you a quick rub down." There, he sounded brisk and business-like.
Potter, strangely, was looking a little forlorn. "It's okay, it's nothing really. Just a strain. I'll rest it at home." He started edging away from Draco, heading towards the exit. Draco eyed him curiously.
"Don't be stupid, you may as well get it sorted out now, you'll only end up in pain." Draco stepped forward and poked the shoulder in question and ducked out of the way as Potter took a swing at him. "See? That doesn't look like it's just a strain. Come to the office." Potter rubbed at his throbbing shoulder, scowling fiercely at Draco. Draco ignored him and led the way to the Medics' Office with its small treatment room attached.
Draco ushered him into the room and onto the bed, ordering him not to move as he washed his hands in the sink, dried them and cast a heat aura over his palms. He glared at Potter as he began working at his injured shoulder, applying a slight steady pressure and watching him relax incrementally. At last Potter sighed, relaxing fully into the massage. A sleepy, comfortable quietness settled about them, interrupted only by their breathing and the sounds of skin rubbing against skin.
Potter broke the silence. "You seemed to be getting on pretty well with the Harpies Beater." Was Potter actually making conversation?
Draco snorted, "Is that what you'd call it? She was a brainless twit. Had a body to die for, of course. Why, you wanted her for yourself?"
Potter spluttered. "I- I didn't mean it like that! Well, I suppose I did, but- wait, I shouldn't be prying into your private life anyway, it was- Ow ow, fuck, ow," he pulled away from Draco, obviously in pain.
"You idiot, would you just relax for a bit and let me do my job?" he scolded, "Stop wriggling. What's got you so wound up, anyway?" He recast the heat aura to his hands, massaging his patient's shoulder very gently, picking up from Potter's cues when he hit a sore spot.
"You've got me wound up, Malfoy. I swear, I can't decide if I want to tear your head off or-" Potter coughed awkwardly. "Or. Um. Anyway, you should watch out for Joanna Stilton. I hear she goes through men like pairs of knickers."
Draco sniggered. "Duly noted. Thanks for the invaluable advice." Potter's face reddened; it was almost cute, really. "By the way, feel free to pry into my private life all you want, I know I would do the same to you."
Potter laughed. "There must be a catch," he assumed a pompous expression and continued, "You won't answer any prying questions you deem unsuitable for your betterment."
Draco scowled at him. "I do not sound like that, you mindless boor. Also, yes, that's exactly true."
"So you didn't like Joanna at all?"
"Well I wouldn't discuss Ministry politics with her, but she did have fabulous breasts. Hmm." Draco could feel his prick responding just to the thought alone, and he shook his head. Some serious charm work was going on there. No way was this natural for a homosexual man.
Potter's cheerful expression melted away. "Um, yeah, well, I guess." There was an awkward pause, and then he jumped off the bed and began gathering his things.
"I have to go now, I need to pop into Tesco's and it's already late," Potter said briskly, already at the door with one hand resting on the doorknob, all but itching to leave. Draco nearly asked what Tesco was, then figured it was probably some vulgar Muggle thing. Potter dithered with one foot over the threshold; he looked up at Draco, then down at his feet, then he shook his head to Banish whatever he'd been thinking. "Um, bye."
Draco blinked, an alarming thought occurring to him as he pieced the evidence together.
He was disappointed, Draco realised, staring after Potter's departing back. Potter was actually disappointed that Draco had been staring at Joanna Stilton's chest instead of... what? Instead of staring at his chest? Was that what he wanted?
Draco closed his eyes. Circe's twat, but he needed a drink.
* * * * *
20th April 2006, 5:27pm
Needles of rain stabbed at Draco's skin as he hurried onto the pitch to assist in yet another magnificent Quidditch accident. He was on centre pitch duty, so he was the closest to see the undoubtedly rigged Bludgers that had hurtled wildly at all the Cannons players without guidance from any Beaters. He had just about been able to make out Potter being hit far above them amongst the storm clouds and had watched with dread as he fell from his broom, hurtling towards the ground. Even as his logical mind listed Potter's possible resultant injuries, nothing could have prepared him for the sight before his eyes. Potter lay flat on his face in the mud, a black pool of blood gathering around his head. His right hand was still clutching the stupid Snitch.
The stunned spectators were eerily quiet and the heavy rain thrummed steadily against the earth.
Draco's heart stopped as he took all this in, and then he was a great rush of adrenaline and instinctive action. He ran to Potter's side, casting a Protego bubble around them and then drying and Banishing the sickening mixture of blood and dirt from around Potter's motionless body. Draco's wand hand shook so dreadfully he had to hold his wand with both hands as he painstakingly levitated Potter's body around to face up, terrified that he might jar what could be a broken spine.
Fuck, what did he do next? Fuck. Draco had never had to handle first-line management on an unconscious patient before. He glanced outside the Protego bubble and saw the other medics running from their duty posts too, but they were still too far away to help with Potter yet. Fuck.
Draco took a deep breath to dispel the throbbing headache behind his eyeballs. He could do this, he just needed to remain calm. What did he have to do next? He cleared the gunk from around Potter's nose and mouth, but there was still no breathing. Pulse was present but weak, and blood had started to form a new puddle around his head. Draco ripped open his medic kit for the oxygen mask, enlarging it and holding it carefully against Potter's face. He pointed his wand at Potter's sternum and cast Inhalaro, watching his chest rise, followed by Exhalaro, and then repeated it again and again. The pool of blood continued to enlarge, but Draco had run out of free hands to search for the cut.
At last, Matthias arrived with two other medics and one of the large emergency medic packs. Draco raised his Protego momentarily to let them in, the cold rain and wind sweeping underneath the gap and chilling him to the bone. Draco reeled off his report, his heart pounding.
"Airway clear, no breathing, pulse 43 and weak. There's a badly bleeding gash on his head. Possible C-spine injury, but I haven't done a bone assessment yet."
Matthias nodded once then pointed at the emergency pack. "Accio blood replenishing potion, Level 3 strength," and the little purple vial smacked into Matthias's palm. "Eric, get some bandages. I want a bone scan of his head and neck, lateral and AP view." Eric ran to get the bandages, nearly tripping in the mud. "Careful, Eric, we don't need another casualty! Draco, administer the blood potion, one stat dose, IV. I'll take over breathing, your wand arm must be tired." Draco gladly relinquished the oxygen mask to Matthias and jumped up, taking the purple vial from Matthias's hand and kneeling beside Potter's right arm.
The flustered Eric stood at Potter's head, cautiously pushing aside Potter's hair. "I can't find the cut, Matthias. It must be on the back of his head."
"Damn. Okay, start the scan anyway so we can see if he's safe to manoeuvre." Eric began casting the anchoring points for the scan, trying not to get in Matthias' or Draco's way.
Draco tried to push Potter's sleeve up, but the cloth was soaked through with rainwater and it wouldn't budge. He ran his wand down Potter's arm and sliced the cloth, spreading it aside like layers of skin to reveal Potter's inner arm. The skin was unnaturally pale and sweaty, and Draco had another moment of mindless panic that Potter wouldn't pull through. But he shook his head, telling himself to stop being such a ninny and that everything was under control. A slight movement caught his eye, and he looked down to see the Snitch still held tight in Potter's hand.
Draco let out a burst of what could have been a cry or a laugh, and he reached down to extricate the thing from those cold fingers, shoving it into his jacket pocket. For a terrible moment, he had the urge to take hold of Potter's hand.
"Have you given the blood potion yet?" Draco blinked and turned to Matthias who had now strapped the oxygen mask properly to Potter's face. "He's stable and breathing. No spinal or skull injuries beyond the nasty cut in his head. We're ready to move him to the Infirmary." Relief flooded in to replace the weight of dread in his stomach, and Draco heaved a great calming sigh. Thank goodness.
"Um, no not yet, his clothes were wet so I had to cut them." Draco shook his shoulders, returning to work mode. He positioned the vial pointy end down into the most prominent vein in Potter's arm and placed his wand at the designated marking on the base of the vial.
"Intravena."
* * * * *
1st May 2006, 8:46pm
"I wanted to say-" Potter cleared his throat nervously and patted at his mouth with a napkin before continuing. "I wanted to say thank you."
Draco looked up from his plate of chips. "For what?" He blinked coyly.
"For saving me at the last match. I heard from the others that you were the first to get to me and, what's his name? The medic in charge, Michael or something."
"Matthias."
"Yeah, him. He said if it weren't for you and all the stuff you did before the other medics reached me, I could have been brain damaged." Potter grimaced at the thought, and looked at Draco seriously. "Thank you, Malfoy. You saved my life."
Draco opened and closed his mouth. How to respond to something like that? "Don't be ridiculous, Potter, I was only doing my job." He popped another chip into his mouth and smirked. "Besides, if I weren't your medic, I'd have left you for dead."
Potter rolled his eyes and turned back to his food, smiling a little. "Yeah, right. You don't have the guts." He chewed thoughtfully on his garlic bread. "In fact, I bet even if you weren't a medic, if I weren't your job, you'd have saved me anyway just so I would owe you one." He grinned triumphantly and picked up his Butterbeer.
"Surprisingly perceptive, but don't be so sure. You're never safe around me." He assumed a sinister expression, and Potter snorted into his drink. Draco leaned back in his chair and laughed, surprised to find that he was having... fun. With Potter. Who had insisted on buying him dinner in gratitude. And there was a slight possibility that they were flirting, but Draco refused to go down that train of thought for fear of the world turning upside down. Potter looked up at him, his green eyes twinkling Dumbledore-style with mischief.
Yup, definitely flirting, Draco thought with rising panic. He turned away hastily, searching for something to say that would break the camaraderie. A slight buzz in his pocket provided a convenient excuse. "Oh, by the way Potter, thought you might want this." Draco drew out the deactivated Snitch, its wings twitching fitfully.
Potter quirked an eyebrow at the proffered Snitch. "Why would... oh, is that from the accident? Why do you still have it?"
Draco reconsidered his decision to bring up this topic. "Had to pry it out of your corpse hands when I was giving you a blood potion on the pitch. I forgot it was still in my pocket 'til later." He most certainly had not been carrying it around in his jacket pocket, occasionally stroking the Snitch's engraved surface with his thumb like a stress ball to dispel the images of Potter unconscious in a pool of his own blood from his mind. Not at all.
Potter's face grew serious as he reached forward and stroked a finger down the Snitch's wing. Draco watched in horror as that callus-roughened finger continued along the golden surface of the Snitch and up to Draco's thumb. The nerves in his skin seemed to leap at every miniscule brush of Potter's finger, and Cronus help him he couldn't move his hand away. But a few moments later the decision was taken out of his hands as Potter drew back, that same blasted finger now reaching for his all-but-forgotten drink and stroking along the top of the glass rim, back and forth.
"I want you to keep it." Draco's eyes jumped up to look at his adversary and if he were so inclined, he would have gasped at the open heat in Potter's green eyes. Draco blinked once to compose himself, his heart pounding in spite of his efforts. He raised an eyebrow at Potter. "No, really, keep it." Potter took a drink of his Butterbeer, the mist of tension around them seeming to sharpen. "Think of it as an IOU, to be collected at a later date."
"Any particular restrictions on the method of collection?"
Potter still looked at him, his straight white teeth a contrast as they bit down on his pink lower lip.
"No."
* * * * *
2nd May 2006, 6:51pm
Potter's mouth was clearly a product of Hades. Why else would Draco find himself leaning against the unforgiving porcelain sink digging into his back, unable to raise a protest against the hot, moist onslaught on his neck? Draco grappled behind him, his left hand finding purchase against the soap dispenser on the wall beside him, his right hand holding awkwardly onto a tap.
Potter's warm, square hands were splayed around his waist, tugging him just close enough to graze their groins together teasingly. Draco groaned, reaching for Potter's face to pull his lips up to Draco's own. Without warning, Potter wrenched Draco towards him, hard. The momentum carried them a couple of steps towards the centre of the room, and closer to the bed.
"I can't believe we're doing this here," Draco muttered in between Potter's hungry kisses.
Potter laughed briefly. "Hah, you don't seem too concerned." A hand had begun to slide under Draco's tunic, settling hot and promising against his ribs. Draco shivered.
"A medic might come in at any moment."
Potter started unbuttoning Draco's white tunic. "Everyone's gone home, it's safe to switch the lights on." He leaned forward. "We're all alone, Malfoy," he breathed into Draco's ear.
"It seems wrong to desecrate the treatment room."
Potter blinked and reared back, then sniggered. "Desecrate? Well, would you feel more comfortable if we did it in the supply cupboard?"
Draco slapped Potter's hands away so he had room to explore. He ran his palms curiously over Potter's shoulders and upper arms, stroking back up with the slightest of pressure so the fine down on his skin brushed Draco's hands. "I haven't agreed to do anything with you, in here or the supply cupboard."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"
"Shut it, I'm not doing anything in a cupboard. There's a perfectly serviceable bed here," Draco pointed to said item a few feet away.
"But that's for sick people. It'd be creepy to make out on it." Potter suddenly dragged Draco by his partially undone tunic, pressing him against the closed door of the supply cupboard. The smooth wood felt cool against Draco's back, a contrast to the engulfing warmth of Potter's body at his front. Potter's stubbled cheek brushed Draco's, his hands planted either side of Draco's shoulders to give him leverage as he rubbed against Draco's rapidly hardening cock. Draco hissed, wriggling back and forth in counterpoint, leaning his forehead against Potter's shoulder.
"You are so bloody sexy in your little nurse's uniform, you know."
Draco reared his head back violently, wincing as it connected with the door. "Nurse's uniform!? You little shit, I'm not a fucking nurse. I'm a sports medic!" He turned his head away as Potter leaned forward for an apologetic nip at his lips. "No, piss off! I'm not having sex with someone who thinks I'm a girl. You can get Meredyth to suck your cock if you want to defile a nurse."
Potter laughed. "Meredyth is 65 years old."
"Exactly." Draco slid out from under Potter. "Urgh, my back is killing me. I've had enough." And without warning, Draco shoved Potter down onto the floor with a move he hadn't used since his wartime days. He stood up with his feet either side of Potter's body. Potter gazed up at him from the floor in wide-eyed lust, a tiny gasp escaping him.
"How'd you do that?" He licked his parted lips, and Draco could see he was breathing more rapidly, and the bulge in his jeans had just become a tad more visible. So he liked it a little rough, eh?
Draco smirked before crouching down, settling his bottom over Potter's crotch. "Idiot. What did you think sports medics did all day? Do the crossword?"
"Have sex?" And Potter grasped the pocket on Draco's tunic to pull him forward, sighing into the ensuing messy kiss. Draco wished he could find fault with Potter's prowess, but the truth was he was too horny to care. And they were still wearing far too many clothes.
Draco lifted up from the kiss with a wet smack and reached down to tug Potter's tracksuit bottoms. "Take your trainers off. Merlin's bollocks, you really do have ridiculously hairy legs."
"And you're as smooth as a baby's bum, Malfoy," he retorted, running his rough palms over Draco's back under his tunic. "I bet you wax and-- oh, yeah." Potter stuttered to a halt as Draco reached into his cotton boxers and brushed Potter's cock with a fingertip. "Yes, unh." He groaned when Draco slipped his hand away. "Where are you going?"
"Too many clothes." Draco replied. He undid the rest of the buttons on his tunic and shrugged it off. The light from the hallway leaked in through the window of the office door, picking out the scars on Draco's chest.
"Oh, Sectum sempra!" Potter blurted before his face crumpled at what he'd just said. Draco scowled, though he wasn't really angry.
"Let's not talk about that. I'll guilt you into a favour over it later," Draco commanded. Potter nevertheless looked unhappy, possibly on the verge of apologetic. Draco hastily fished out the wand from his discarded tunic and cast warming, lighting, and sanitation charms on their rendezvous, in that order. "That's better." He settled back down onto Potter's groin, leaning for forward with his hands either side of Potter's head. He hummed as Potter's T-shirt brushed his chest, his nipples tightening as a thrill ran down his abdomen into his groin.
Draco looked at Potter's face in the improved illumination, his eyes tracing the plump red lips, flushed cheeks, that shock of soft dark hair falling into his bright eyes. Come to think of it, he almost had the gentle rounded features of a classic Mills and Boon English Rose. Funny how you didn't notice these things when you disliked someone so much. He traced a finger down Potter's cheek, feeling the heat of that flush seep into his own skin. Potter turned his head and parted his seeking lips, and Draco obliged with a fingertip that was quickly enclosed in Potter's hot sucking mouth.
Draco's eyelids fluttered. God, he hadn't been this turned on since losing his virginity. He pressed his other hand down beside Potter's shoulder to steady himself and rocked down onto Potter's crotch, enjoying the garbled moans spilling out around his finger in Potter's mouth, imagining him moaning around his cock. God, that was hot. Him and Harry Potter. So fucking hot, he couldn't believe he'd never thought of it when they'd been at school.
Draco pulled out his finger from Potter's mouth and replaced it with his tongue, running his spit-slick fingertip down Potter's cheek and rubbing his knuckle over the faintly stubbled chin. Draco eventually pulled back when he started feeling breathless, sitting up and running his hands under Potter's top and over his trim, firm, delicious torso. Draco twisted his shoulder to rub an itch on the side of his face, and caught sight of the desk to their left. He hummed in thought.
"When was the last time you had sex?" he asked curiously, reviewing the contents of the desk drawer from memory.
"Too long. Who cares? Let's shag."
Draco snickered and picked up his wand, opening the desk drawer and Accio-ing a fat blue plastic tube into his hand. "No need to get your balls in a twist, Potter. I want to know so I can decide how much lubrication we need."
"Oh." Potter grinned, probably thrilled to know he'd be getting laid tonight. "Well, I could try a lube charm? Haven't done one before, but how hard could it be?" Draco eyed Potter balefully before turning back to the tube, reading the ingredients carefully. "Or you could do one? Isn't that the stinky medical gel you use on me? How do you know it wouldn't sting?"
"I can only conjure antiseptic lubrication, and that would definitely sting. Ok, this'll do." He uncapped the tube and sniffed, before nodding to himself and levering up with a hand on Potter's chest. He ooph'ed in response, and then seeing that Draco was slipping out of his trainers and trousers, curled his legs up to do likewise.
They finally kneeled in front of each other, Draco completely naked and Potter in his vest and socks. Draco would have complained about the inequality, but Potter looked utterly adorable.
"You look utterly ridiculous."
Potter grinned unrepentantly. "Fuck you, too." He grasped Draco's shoulders and drew him forward for a leisurely kiss with a promise. Draco tugged Potter's hips until they were pressed cock to cock, and the sensations were so marvellous he couldn't suppress a groan into Potter's mouth. Potter groaned right back and slid his hands from Draco's shoulders to his bottom, gripping and pushing until Draco was half-straddling Potter's thighs. Their skin gathered moisture, allowing them to thrust against each other faster and faster. As the kiss grew messier and more desperate, Draco was surprised to feel the first tingling of oncoming orgasm in the base of his spine. He hastily drew away.
"Stop, wait," he gasped. "I'm too close, I want you to fuck me first." He squashed his lips against Potter's again, their tongues sliding over each other inelegantly. The tube he'd found had been knocked out of range behind Potter. "The lube's behind you," he mumbled between licks and sucks of Potter's lips.
Potter leaned back to blindly grope for the tube. He teetered a little at the awkward position, trying to stay upright, but Draco was having none of it.
"Ow, fuck!" Potter winced from where he lay on the hard floor. "Be a little gentle, would you?"
Draco straddled his hips and picked up the tube from the floor. "I don't do gentle, Potter, surely you know that?" He dribbled the lube into his palm, the scent of herbs meeting his nostrils.
"What is that, some kind of aromatherapy thing?" Potter didn't wait for an answer, taking the tube from Draco and squirted a splodge into his own palm and running it over his cock. Draco could feel Potter's eyes on him as he slowly prepared himself with tentative touches and a small measure of finger.
"I can't believe I'm about to have sex with you. Who'd have thought it, eh? Me and Draco Malfoy, hah." Potter grinned up at Draco, then went back to watching his fingers disappearing into his body. "You are so fucking hot. I can't wait any longer." He replaced the gently preparing fingers with a roughly shoved-in thumb. There was a slight twinge of pain, but god it felt so good. So incredibly good that the sound that came out of Draco's mouth could almost be described as a whine. "I want you right now. Look at you, hard as nails." Potter raised his free hand, slick with sweat and lube, and took hold of Draco's neglected cock.
"You talk too much, you know that, Potter? Fuck, yes," Draco panted, every movement of Potter's rough fingers making his hips jerk involuntarily. He was so close, he could taste it. "Get on with it, I'm ready, for fuck's sake."
"Good," and then Draco felt the sensation of Potter's decidedly average but god-how-he-wanted-it-right-now cock press into him, the passage eased by lube and sweat and lust. "Yes, fuck, I've needed a shag for so long," he groaned, pulling himself off Potter's cock and pressing back down, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Potter groaned "Likewise," running his hands up Draco's chest to his nipples, "though I hope," sliding over his sides and down his back, "that I'm not just," splaying his fingers over Draco's buttocks and pushing him up 'til Potter's cock almost slipped out, "a one off shag to," shoving in hard, "scratch an itch". Draco's heart pounded as his arse and cock and skin tingled. He flailed his hands about 'til he met the still-open desk drawer. He gripped it tightly as he reached down with his other hand to stroke his own cock. He looked down to see Potter's flushed, glowing face grimacing in pleasure. Sweat-damp black hair clung to his forehead and his gorgeous throat and shoulders strained, the sight making Draco moan and move his fingers faster.
A moment later, he felt one of Potter's hands move from his bottom round to his cock, and Draco thrust into the tight canal made by their mingled fingers. The teasing edge of pleasure that had begun in his spine earlier now felt like a hot shock, driving through him and into him, gathering sensation from his body and trickling down into his balls and cock, 'til the tension was unbearable and he was coming hard. The sensation took his breath away and stopped his heart, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, everything was concentrated on his cock as his come spurted out and all over Potter in a big white mess.
It was glorious.
Draco finally landed in a heap onto Potter, spent and exhausted. He couldn't remember if Potter had come, but he guessed he must have done since Potter looked just as wrung out and replete.
"Fuck." Potter whimpered pitifully into Draco's neck. "My back is killing me." He pressed a kiss onto Draco's skin. "We have got to try that again some time."
Draco huffed a tired laugh, "I'll check my schedule."
* * * * *
5th May 2006, 12:22pm
"Are you absolutely out of your puny Neanderthal mind?? I can't believe you just did that!"
"Malfoy, I just-"
"You just what? Idiot. I could lose my job over this! Did that ever occur to you? Of course not - the sun just shines out of Harry bleeding Potter's arse, doesn't it? No sense in that skull of yours except spreading chaos and destruction and-"
"Come off it, Malfoy, it was only a hug. Stop overreacting." Potter was beginning to smile a little in the face of Draco's incandescent rage, which only made him angrier.
"I am not overreacting. If you had even a molecule of intelligence, you'd realise what an absolute idiot you are."
"That makes no sense." Potter was openly grinning now.
"Shut up, it makes perfect sense." Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair. "How in Merlin's hairy bollocks am I going to face Matthias after this? I'll be sacked for sure. Do you realise how hard I worked to get this job, Potter? Humiliation after humiliation, rejections from every Healer Academy I applied to, because of a stupid tattoo on my arm that isn't even there anymore, judging me from old recycled gossip from years ago, and then you! You waltz into my life and ruin everything by kissing me on the fucking Quidditch pitch!?"
Draco took a deep breath, his throat raw after his loud and, unfortunately, high-pitched tirade. He could feel his face hot and throbbing as all the blood rushed to his head, his body so tensed he wondered if he would ever un-tense again. Potter tentatively reached out to touch his arm, and he barely resisted the urge to throw him off.
"Malfoy." Potter nervously cleared his throat. "Draco." Draco raised his eyebrow at this new development. "I'm no good at this stuff, okay? I just, I didn't think."
"That much is obvious." Draco grumped.
"Shut up for a moment." Potter sighed. "Look, was there anyone on the field who seemed at all disgusted with you? With us? Anyone who looked outraged or... or you know, scandalised?"
"Of all the-"
"Malfoy," Potter warned.
"Okay fine, no one was disgusted, but that's not the point! Once rumours spread that we shagged, I'll be sacked!"
"For being gay?"
"No, for sleeping with their star Quidditch player! Saviour of the sodding Wizarding world and bane of my existence." A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to him. "It's like... a secretary sleeping with the boss for a promotion! Good god, Matthias will have my testicles on a plate."
Potter shook his head in disbelief and placed his other hand gently on Draco's shoulder. "It's none of Matthias' business who we choose to sleep with! And I don't have any say in who gets promoted to what except amongst the Quidditch players. I've got nothing to do with the medics."
"Yes, but-"
"But nothing. You're being stupid. Stop it. It's giving me a headache." Potter began stroking his shoulder back and forth, smiling that sweet wry smile of his, and damn him to Azkaban, Draco could feel his ire leaking out of him like a deflated balloon. Potter hesitantly leaned down, his hopeful lips parting. Draco reluctantly stood still as they met, and soon found himself lost in the taste of Potter's mouth and the smell of his aftershave. He almost groaned when Potter slipped away from the kiss with a moist smack, and he almost groaned again as those lips traced down his throat and sucked on the skin under his jaw.
A sudden gasp from the end of the corridor followed by hastily retreating footsteps had Draco wrenching away in alarm. "Someone was there, someone saw us necking. Shit."
Potter remained defiant. "So what? Let them see." He advanced towards Draco again, so close that their eyelashes nearly touched. "It's a sight they'll come across very often," he whispered as his lips descended once more.
* * * * *
9th May 2006, 9:49pm
"Potter, you have the most appalling taste in furniture," Draco lamented. "Surely you can afford an interior designer."
"What would I want one of those for?" Potter mumbled behind his mug of tea, handing Draco a bright blue mug with some inane caricature of a duck drawn on it. Draco sniffed the dark liquid, the scent of substandard coffee meeting his nostrils. "I only stay here to sleep, anyway. The rest of the time we're training, on tour, or getting drunk."
"Hmmmph." Draco took stock of the bookshelf that was stacked with thin plastic boxes. "What the hell are these?"
"DVDs - they're films on a disc, you watch them on my DVD player." Potter pointed at a glistening silver box with a plethora of buttons.
"Films? So it's a camera, is it?"
Potter started to speak, then shook his head. "Never mind, I'm not in the mood for a crash course in Muggle Studies." Potter sat his mug on a table and started closing in on him. Draco remained where he was, put his own mug aside on the shelf behind him to await his prey. Potter stood chest to chest with him, groin to groin, and Draco leant forward with a groan to finally press against that lush mouth he hadn't kissed in days.
They kissed and groped and tugged at each other's clothes, paying no attention to where they were stumbling, until Draco almost toppled over when the side of Potter's hideous sofa met his knee. Potter pulled his head out from under Draco's pushed-up jumper and glanced at the sofa, before looking back at Draco with such searing heat in his eyes, he wondered that the room didn't catch fire.
"I want to drive you absolutely insane." Potter ran his hand down Draco's side and slipped his fingers under the waistband of his trousers. Draco squirmed, cursing his own ticklishness, and complied when Potter guided him to sit on the sofa. Potter kneeled comfortably on the floor between his legs, watching Draco patiently until he couldn't bear the tension.
He wriggled self-consciously until he was ensconced in the sofa cushions, legs spread out and ready. Potter suddenly sniggered. "All set?"
Draco frowned. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
Potter grinned insolently. "It's a start." He started to undo Draco's trainers.
"Let me do that," Draco said quickly, toeing them off as Potter tugged down his trousers and underwear in one go. Draco's breath caught in his throat as Potter stayed kneeling in front of him, looking at his half-hard cock. His cock seemed to appreciate the attention and perked up fully, wafts of Potter's breath falling teasingly onto the taut, flushed skin. He let out a tiny "Unh" when the bottom of his jumper slipped down and brushed the tip. Potter bent his head, and Draco shut his eyes.
God, it had been an age since he'd had a good long blowjob. Potter kept a steady, hot suction on his cock while his rough hands stroked his balls, his thighs, his belly, and back up to hold his cock still while Potter flickered his tongue over the tip. "Potte- oh fuck. Fuck that's good. Potter," Draco stammered, "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Call me Harry." Potter lifted his head, all guileless eyes and soft mouth. "Go on, say it," and he bent down to take Draco's cock all the way to the base.
He buried his hands in the coarse haystack of black hair before him, pushing it back to reveal Potter's smooth brow and his nose brushing Draco's pubic hair. The sight set off a shudder running down Draco's spine, making him grip Potter's hair tighter, and Draco knew he must be hurting Potter, but he couldn't help it. If he let go, he'd surely fly apart.
"Harry." Draco groaned as the clench of pleasure in his groin threatened to unfurl. His body started to quiver with the urge to thrust.
"Harry." Draco's hips pushed up a little, and Potter - Harry - went with it smoothly. "Fuck. Yes. Harry." He pushed more, again and again, and Harry's glorious mouth moved in counterpoint, and then those warm rough hands gripped Draco by the hips and let him thrust. Draco arched his back as the clench in his groin unfurled and shattered, hot tight pleasure skittering up his spine and into his balls, his thighs, his toes, his belly, and his cock at last pulsed and he came almost silently, his body so tense he couldn't even voice the shouts of bliss stuck in his throat.
"Harry," Draco gusted out, and then he tensed again as another wave swept down his body and out of his cock, into Harry's waiting mouth. He panted and released Harry's hair to splay his fingers on the cushions behind his head, coming for what seemed like forever until with one last twitch he sank back into the sofa, spent and languid. His poor abused cock almost couldn't bear the strokes of Harry's tongue as he lapped up the traces of come that had escaped him, and Draco groaned again.
"Harry," Draco mumbled. Harry looked up, eyes bright with mischief and what Draco could have sworn was happiness. "Harry."
"That's my name. Don't wear it out."
* * * * *
27th May 2006, 6:32pm
"Are we in a relationship, then?"
Draco looked up from the book he was reading, eyebrows arched in disbelief. "A relationship? I should hope not." He laughed at the look of dismay on Harry's face. "Don't worry, I'm not dumping you, for Circe's sake. We are having regular, surprisingly satisfactory sex. I heal your frequent little injuries and do your physio, after which we have sex. We occasionally share meals, after which we also have sex."
Harry walked over to perch on the table beside Draco's book. "So we're having sex?"
"We're having sex. Now leave me alone, I'm studying. Exams are next week."
"After which, you'll be a fully fledged Healer?"
"No, you idiot. After which I'm still a sports medic, but one rung above the level of 'dog turd'."
Harry stepped away from the desk to kiss Draco behind the ear, quickly nipping at the irresistible little earlobe before Draco swatted him away like a fly. "All right, all right, I'm going! Um, good luck, yeah? You'll do great." Harry scratched the back of his neck, not sure whether Draco would fly off the handle at his admittedly useless platitudes. Draco cleared his throat, at which Harry trotted obediently towards the door.
Just as he was about reach for the handle, the door swung open and Matthias rushed in, nearly smacking into Harry. "Oops, sorry Potter, didn't see you there. What are you doing here so late?"
Draco cringed at Harry's awkward reply, and concentrated very hard on his revision notes when Matthias turned to him. "He was just leaving, weren't you, Potter?" Draco mumbled into his notes, glancing up only to see Harry's slightly hurt expression. He flashed him a half-smirk and a raised eyebrow, feeling pleased when the hurt melted away from Harry's face.
"Err, yeah. Um, I'll go now." Harry turned to leave.
"You can have Draco back once his exams are over." Harry's eyes widened in alarm. So did Draco's. Matthias barreled on, "Take him out for a congratulatory dinner or something. He doesn't get out of this building enough." Matthias grabbed his coat hanging from the hook on the back of the door, checked his inbox and walked out of the office, waving goodbye to them both.
They didn't move 'til Matthias' footsteps had mostly faded away, then they turned to one another. Draco could feel his face burning with embarrassment, and Merlin knew what kind of expression he had on his face. Harry, however, looked positively smug.
"I told you he wouldn't care we were shagging."
Draco huffed, "Oh, sod off," picking up a paperweight threateningly.
Harry made a hasty retreat, though he was still smiling, the tosser. Draco could hear the old hag of a nurse Meredyth stumble over a response to Harry's uncharacteristic hearty greeting when they passed in the hall. Draco got up to shut the office door, lingering at the threshold as he watched Harry stride around the corner towards the practice pitches.
Draco smiled slightly and got back to work.
* * * * *
End
Recipient: dark0feenix
Title: Healthy Sportsmanship
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Who'd have thought the worst part about being a Quidditch medic wasn't the stress and disgusting bodily fluids, but the ordeal of caring for the Cannons' star player Harry Potter?
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: 10,800
Warnings: NWS artwork within the fic.
Author's Notes: I hope you like this, dark0feenix - it was a first for me in a plethora of ways. Happy H/D holidays! :D Thanks to N and S for beta-ing this into something reasonable.
Healthy Sportsmanship
12th February 2006, 4:03pm
Draco jogged to the mess of medics and wailing Quidditch players in centre pitch, brand new Healer kit at the ready. He edged in towards the crowd of medics, trying to offer his assistance on what was proving to be a rather dramatic first day at the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Club. Two broken ankles, one dislocated shoulder, one suspected spinal injury, four sprained wrists, three serious concussion and numerous cuts and bruises. Without appearing too obvious, he tiptoed to get a better view of who the various injuries belonged to, scanning each grimacing player's face.
Suddenly, a puffing red face pushed into view. "Draco, for god's sake, go make yourself useful and treat the minors, you'll only get in the way here. Think you can manage that?"
He barely had time to frown before Matthias, the team leader, disappeared back into the melee. Draco set to work, cataloguing the whinger, the hard nut pretending her massive bruises didn't hurt, and the embarrassed one who'd somehow been smacked in the balls with a Beater stick. He meted out antiseptic warding spells and topical numbing agents without fuss, and was feeling quite proud of himself for keeping everything under control until he caught sight of an unconscious player in a cushioned Mobilicorpus whooshing past him, trailed by three senior medics. His dark hair was caked with dirt, and his cut-open robes revealed a protruding broken rib.
Harry Potter.
* * * * *
15th February 2006, 10:11am
Potter gingerly took a deep breath, exhaling slowly against the dull pain radiating from his left side. "So how long have you been working here?"
He got no response at first, but Draco eventually mumbled, "Three days," as he observed the chest scan with more concentration than necessary. "According to this, your ribs are nearly healed, but you'll still hurt like Crucio for a few weeks. Couldn't say for certain about your head injury, not that a knock on the skull could worsen your intelligence."
Potter huffed. "Should have known you wouldn't change. Can't you just give it a rest? At least I was trying to be polite." He scratched his indignantly twitching nose.
"I'm never polite, Potter." Draco dissipated the scan with a snap before pocketing his wand. "Keep taking the pain killers if you need them. I'd give you the longer lasting ones, but they have nasty side effects, and numbing charms won’t do much for you."
"Oh, joy." Potter lay back down on the uncomfortable bed and laboriously settled the blankets over his bruised and bandaged torso.
Draco appeared unmoved. As he walked about the examination room packing away his kit, he suddenly lifted his head, grinning. "How is it that in every Quidditch match, you always end up pulverised the most? You're either extremely unlucky or my wishes for your eventual grisly death actually work."
"Fuck off, Malfoy. I'm going to sleep."
* * * * *
22nd February 2006, 1:16pm
"Mmmph um imph oom?"
"What?" Draco yelled from inside the supply cupboard.
"I said," Potter replied once he’d extricated his head from the T-shirt he’d been pulling off, "Where should I put my glasses?"
Draco mentally ticked off what equipment he needed for Potter’s first physio session. He cast a spell at the door of the room and the word "Occupied" appeared in glowing green letters in the painted wood. Where was the bloody high-step block?
"Anywhere, just, on a table somewhere out of the way." Ah, there it was. He plucked the miniature foam blocks out of their drawer and put them in his tunic pocket. "Are you decent?"
"You told me to strip off!"
"I know." Draco popped his head round the door and was greeted with the sight of a trim vest-clad back. "Not good enough, Potter. Vest and trousers off."
Potter turned round, fingers spread over his stomach protectively. "But it’s freezing in here!"
"Then put a Warming Charm on yourself - what kind of wizard are you?" He ignored Potter’s grumbles and took out his pocketful of shrunken equipment, enlarging them one by one and arranging them in a row. "If you’re done dithering about... right. Today we’ll start with some light movements at your hips and back. Your injured knee doesn't seem to be bothering you much, so priority is your hips. Right?"
Potter scratched his chin. "Um--"
"Right. Come over here for warm up," Draco pointed sternly at the bench in front of him. Potter padded softly in only socks and boxers and perched on the bench, legs dangling. He took his glasses off and set them beside him, mouth pursed and large green eyes staring patiently at him. Draco looked away from that arresting gaze down to the limbs in question. And what a despicably fine set of legs they were, too. Slightly tanned, and lean... and surprisingly hairy, Draco snickered inwardly. But then he made the mistake of looking up at Potter and got caught halfway by the delicious set of shoulders before him, the strong elegant neck in the vicinity, the slim, tightly muscled chest neighbouring it. His eyes strayed to a nipple and fuck, now he knew the colour of Harry Potter’s nipples. And they were getting peaky in the cool air. Fuck.
Draco was not checking Potter out. No. Out of the question. Unacceptable.
He cleared his throat with business-like comportment. Potter jumped at the sound, which was when Draco realised he was wearing a particularly offensive grimace. "For god’s sake, I’m not going to kill you, as much as it would please me to do so. Sit down."
"I am sitting down."
"Yes. Now," he placed a palm on Potter's right knee, "Raise your leg and press as hard as you can against my hand. Good, relax and do it again." Draco slipped both hands underneath Potter's left leg. "This time press down against my hands as hard as you can." The back of Potter's knee was very soft and smooth. Slightly sweaty, too, and perfect for stroking.
Potter twitched. "Hey, that tickles!" Draco wrenched away at lightning speed. Bugger bugger bugger, he hadn't meant to do that. Draco wiped his hands down his tunic and skittered back to his clipboard, ready to move on. But he knew he couldn't get away with skipping the warm up exercises or Potter would end up with even more strained muscles. And then he'd have to come for more physio. And Draco would be even more miserable. He steeled himself and went back to Potter's knees, concentrating very hard on not stroking them, or looking at the nipples conveniently at eye level. Potter just sat there and did as he was told, not knowing how close Draco was to giving himself an aneurysm. The whole situation would have been hilarious if it weren't so dreadful and if it weren't happening to him.
Draco mentally added "Need to get laid" to his to-do list. This effeminate squirming over Potter was just beyond the pale.
Draco finished off with an awkward pat to the accursed knees. "Right, now lay on your back on the bench and I’ll do a quick bodyscan before we begin the..." Draco trailed off as Potter immediately complied. "Before we begin the more taxing exercises." His patient wriggled into a more comfortable position, the tanned skin over his abdominal muscles catching the light as they flexed. His perfect, flat, little navel seemed to wink at him insolently.
"Okay." Draco swallowed. "Okay. Just relax, I'll be manoeuvring your legs around for you. Do what you like with your arms, as long as they don't get in the way and you're keeping your legs all floppy." Potter gingerly did as instructed, carefully arranging himself so as not to jar his injuries, his arms resting above his head and his fingers curled.
Like a centrefold, Draco’s addled brain supplied, unable to resist a peek at Potter's underarm hair, and of course that led to yet another detour across his pectorals, clavicles and deltoids. There was a scar just to the left of Potter's sternum, and Draco opened his mouth to ask about it before snapping his jaw shut. If this were any other patient, he'd have needed to know what the scar had been caused by, but somehow Draco couldn't bring himself to point it out. Because then Potter would know that Draco was eying up his chest and armpits, and that would have been terrible.
Draco pulled out his wand. Potter eyed it with distrust, but he remained as he was like a good little patient. Draco thought back to his school days, and the unholy glee he would have taken from being presented with Potter supine and wandless. Somehow Draco felt he would have thought differently back then if Potter had only been wearing his schoolboy boxers. At present, the boxers in question had begun to ride lower on Potter's hips, revealing a few thicker longer strands of hair forming a line from his navel downwards.
Oh, boy.
Draco blinked to clear his head and pointed his wand at Potter’s sternum. "Ready?" He didn't give Potter time to respond before casting the body scan, and Potter quivered. "All clear. Now relax your legs completely," he ordered, feeling distressed as Potter spread his thighs a little. Draco grasped Potter's calf and started the exercises more forcefully than he should have.
"Ow! Malfoy, what are you trying to do, tear it off?"
"Well, you're not relaxing fully."
"I’m trying! It hurts," Potter glared defiantly, not quite hiding a wince of pain; Draco instantly felt contrite, then scolded himself for feeling contrite. He continued the exercises with more care this time, and Potter settled into them, cringing only occasionally.
Back Draco went to his clipboard, and almost groaned out loud at what he had to do next. Shit. He only hoped that Potter's predictable indignation would let him off. Draco plastered a smirk to his face. "Potter, for the next part of your regime, you have to lose the shorts."
"WHAT!?" Potter leaped up from the bench, clutching his boxers like an outraged maiden.
Draco forced a laugh, turning the clipboard and pointing. "See? It says right here."
Potter scowled at the clipboard, scowled up at Draco, then scowled down at his boxers. With a huff of breath to gather his courage, Potter started tugging them down.
"Wait wait wait! What on earth are you doing??" Draco instinctively reached out towards him, then jerked his hands back in time before they'd touched. Oh dear, he could see hip bones.
Potter blinked. "I'm doing exactly what you told me to."
"But you're not..."
"What?"
Draco resisted the urge to smack his own head. He didn't get paid enough for this. "Never mind. But don't take them off yet, idiot Gryffindor," he muttered. "Get back on the bench and lie face down."
Potter looked at him, tugging his boxers up. "You want me to lie down with no shorts on and my arse in the air."
Draco sighed. "Yes. Now-"
"Are you absolutely certain-"
"Yes, for Merlin's sake, just do as I say and let me finish your session then we can both go home and forget this ever happened."
"I thought you were working 'til 6 tonight?"
"Potter! Bench, now." Potter finally complied, grumbling as he settled down. Draco Accio-ed a blanket from his bag and tossed it over Potter's goose-pimply legs. He lifted up and looked at Draco in surprise. "You'd said you were cold," Draco shrugged. He had to strain to hear Potter's reluctant thanks. Draco rolled his eyes and conjured a splodge of antiseptic gel into his palm and rubbed it over his hands.
Potter sniffed disdainfully at the pungent odour. "Are you this much of a prick to all your patients?" he mumbled into his folded hands, his back tensing at the touch of Draco’s cold fingers.
"Only you, Potter."
"Well, I feel extra special." Draco could see the corner of Potter's mouth lifting in a reluctant smile, his eyes crinkling.
Draco squashed his own urge to grin in return and began kneading at Potter’s upper back gently. His breathing eventually slowed and deepened until Potter seemed so relaxed his head could have rolled right off his shoulders. "That feels really good. Never thought I’d survive physio with you."
Draco smiled tightly. "I am always professional." He took a deep breath. "I'll need to tug your shorts down a bit for this next massage."
Potter sighed, "Alright, fine, let's get it over with."
Draco continued, "I've done this for other players too, so don't think this is some weird perverted thing to get you naked. The gluteals play an essential role in leg injuries and it's vital that I-"
"Malfoy, it's okay, I don't mind. Just do it - worse things have happened to me than you fondling my bum," Potter sniggered.
Draco laughed slightly hysterically. "Right." He took a deep breath to brace himself and tugged down Potter's boxers... and there they were. Potter's buttocks. Pale, round, pert and surprisingly, not daunting in the slightest. Relieved at finding his composure at last, Draco cast a heat aura onto his hands and set his fingers into Potter's pale flesh, pressing and kneading the muscles. Potter twitched lightly at a particularly firm press of his thumbs at the base of his spine, and then sighed as Draco worked his fingers symmetrically down each buttock. Draco was thankful that Potter couldn't see his face - he felt like he'd gone into rigor mortis with tension to stop himself from running very far away from Potter's now pinked bottom.
"Are you done?" Draco jumped at the question. "You've stopped." And so he had, his fingers just resting on Potter's warm flesh. The sight of his hands framing Potter's arse instantly put him in mind of gay porn. The next step would obviously be grabbing each cheek and separating them to do all manner of obscene things to what was revealed between. Draco's fingertips burned with the instinct to do just that.
He whipped his hands away. "Yes, I'm done."
Potter immediately reached back to pull his boxers back up and sat up on the bench. He wiggled from side to side. "That felt quite nice, actually," Potter grinned. "Thanks."
"Hmm," Draco mumbled distantly.
"See? Told you it wouldn't be that traumatic."
"Yeah. Not traumatic at all."
* * * * *
29th March 2006, 10:31am
"Long time no see, Scarhead."
"Actually, my scar's been fading away since killing Voldemort-" Potter paused to watch the slight twitch Draco couldn't hide, "so 'Scarhead' isn't quite right. But I can still call you a pasty faced ferret. Ow! Watch it!"
Draco smirked. "I am." He Banished the excess ointment from Potter's knee. "Alright, get up then and walk about a bit, tell me if there's any pain even with the numbing ointment." Potter hopped off the bed and dutifully marched back and forth, shaking his head with a satisfied expression on his face.
"Nope, all better now. Thanks ever so much, Healer Malfoy!" he chirped in a swoony voice. Draco's face shuttered at the reminder that he was unlikely to ever earn such a title. The surprised look on Potter's face only made him angrier. "What's wrong? It was only a joke, Malfoy. You know? Joke? Being funny?"
"Yeah I know," Draco said stiffly, turning away to dispose of the used swabs and wash his hands in the adjacent sink. But like a persistent little Niffler, Potter couldn't resist pouring salt into the wound.
"Why didn't you become a Healer, Malfoy? You were always smart, much as it annoys me to admit, heh. Weren't you able to-" he stopped, receiving his answer in the bitter twist of Draco's lips.
"Healer Death Eater doesn't really have the right ring to it, does it, Potter? This is the nearest to Healing that I could get into."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise-"
"Of course you didn't realise." Draco fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, before noticing what he was doing and smoothing it down again and looking back at his patient. "I don't want to talk about it," he said briskly.
Potter coughed. "Ok."
* * * * *
9th April 2006, 6:53pm
Draco's first thought was that the moron was getting his stitches wet. Potter had met with an unfortunate incident in the Ballycastle Bats match on Saturday involving a brain-dead Quidditch hooligan who'd stripped all his clothes off and run into the path of Potter's low-flying broom. He'd swerved out of the fan’s way and ploughed straight into the first row of spectators. As usual, he had come off worse than any other victims in the collision.
Draco’s second thought was that Potter had to be the stupidest, most reckless tripe-for-brains ape he’d ever known. This had been the downfall of the Dark Lord? Anyone could have walked in here, and he hadn’t even bothered to ward the doors to the locker room, never mind Silencio-ing his shower cubicle.
Draco’s third thought was a resounding "Fuck it" as he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and slipped silently into the communal showers. The steam condensed on his skin and wafted into his nostrils, carrying with it a whiff of Potter’s shampoo. He cursed inwardly as the water on the cold tiles seeped through his soft indoor shoes, and cursed again since a drying spell was out of the question now that his quarry was in hearing range.
A breathless huff reached his ears amidst the spattering and gurgling water. The clouds of steam seemed to part like billowing curtains, and there was Potter a mere ten feet away from him, slouched comfortably against the side of his cubicle. The hot water sprayed onto the back of Potter’s head and shoulders as he bent forward to watch his hand moving slowly over his cock. His other hand smoothed traces of soap over his skin, sliding over his chest and belly briefly before making the downward journey to rest on his thigh. He was clearly taking his time, washing every bit of flesh with his leisurely fingers.
Had he been reduced to this for kicks? Spying on the Quidditch players getting intimate with soapsuds in the shower? It was like school again. Or bad voyeurism porn. Starring Horny Harry Potter and his Magic Wang. Draco smirked at the thought.
Not that Potter was anything special, of course. Draco would have reacted the same way if it had been any other man. Some of the players on the team were quite fine specimens of the male human form. And as a red-blooded homosexual man with a healthy sex drive, he would know.
The fact that he’d had an erection that could break walls the moment he realised who was in the shower was beside the point.
Draco edged further towards the cubicle; a few droplets of water splashed onto his skin as they bounced off Potter’s body. His feet were soaked through and the water was now making steady progress up his trouser legs, but he didn’t care; he was so close he was practically standing in the shower with Potter. Potter's hand curled around his cock once again, this time with purpose, and Draco's stomach clenched in anticipation. He heard the first gasp to escape the parted lips, every squelch as Potter ran his wet fist up and down his cock with hypnotic regularity. Water streamed down Potter’s skin, bouncing off his shoulders, skipping past his nipples, running down the centre of his torso to soak his pubic hair and trickle over his cock. Draco watched, mesmerised, as Potter turned around to face the spray of water, lifting his head and parting his reddened, bite-swollen lips.
Draco couldn’t help it. He let out a tiny moan.
Potter’s eyes popped open.
Draco stopped breathing. His heart pounded so hard he was worried it'd burst. Every muscle in his body clenched with abject terror.
But Potter only closed his eyes once again and kept working his cock, his pace picking up until he was panting. He was really putting his back into it now, and as he raised one arm to support himself against the tiles, his wet spiky lashes blinked open and two grass-green eyes looked straight at Draco.
Oh fuck. Oh Merlin-sodding cock-shagging fuck. He was still going, Potter was still wanking away and looking right at him, and oh Merlin. Potter dropped his head forward to rest on the tiles alongside his arm, his fist flying, his buttocks and back tensing as he let out an almighty groan, squeezed his eyes shut and came all over the tiles before him. There was semen on the soap dish, on his hand and both feet, on the pipes running down from the shower head, even on the shampoo bottle sitting innocently apart from the action.
As Potter’s breaths quieted, he opened his eyes. Even from a distance, Draco could see they were dark and heavy with sex. Potter parted his ripe mouth and whispered a single word.
"Fuck."
Draco made his escape.
* * * * *
14th April 2006, 3:31pm
Joanna Stilton really did have fabulous breasts. Draco was getting an eye-to-chest view of said anatomy as he tended to Joanna's sprained ankle at the pitch side. Her tight green and gold uniform did everything it could to enhance her assets - even as he turned away to grab some swabs from his bag, his eyes couldn't wait to get back to staring at her. In fact, Draco was 90% certain that there was a subtle enticement charm woven into the fabric, because normally breasts didn't do it for him. He was more of a legs and bottom man. And shoulders, firm muscled sweat-slick shoulders. Not breasts.
Draco started when Joanna giggled, which was when he realised he was ogling again. It really explained why the Holyhead Harpies were so successful - the opposition weren't looking at Snitches and Quaffles, they were looking at charmed breasts. Either that, or the Harpies selected their team very carefully, and not on playing ability alone. By the look on Joanna's face, they obviously hadn't considered N.E.W.T. scores in their selection, either. Salazar save him from pea-brained busty females.
"I didn't see you at the last Away match we had a few months ago. Are you new around here?" the woman simpered in her Brummie accent.
"Mm."
"What's your name?"
"Malfoy."
"Oh! Are you related to that Lucius Malfoy? He got executed a couple of years ago, didn't he?"
Draco gritted his teeth, annoyance allowing him to break the enticement and look away from her chest. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
"Oh no, love, I'm fine now. Thanks to you," she fluttered her lashes at him, and now Draco really was going to be sick.
He looked at her, completely deadpan. "I'm gay. Stop nattering at me." He smirked at her gasp of outrage, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and leaving her to get off the ground herself and back into the game.
The Chudley Cannons beat the Holyhead Harpies, 240-190.
Matthias called for him at the end of the match to check on Potter's shoulder. "Looks like he wrenched it a little whilst doing some fancy backward roll flying thing. Just give him a rub down and slap on a numbing salve, okay? Don't spend too long, it's late and we need to lock up the office soon." Draco waited outside the changing rooms for Potter, studiously reading the fascinating poster beside the door on what to do in the event of a Troll attack, willing himself not to think about what had happened in these very showers last week. No, he would be professional and distant. Besides, Potter probably hadn't noticed him, he was so involved in his wanking session...
Fuck, now he was thinking about it again. And who was Draco kidding? Of course Potter had noticed him, he'd looked straight at him as he came. It was the hottest thing Draco had seen in years, damn him to Hades. He smacked his head against the emergency Troll-attack poster. He really needed to get laid soon, this sexual obsession with Potter was getting way out of hand. He'd go fuck some stranger from a club, but he knew it wouldn't help. It was also depressingly uncouth and plebian; Malfoys did not fuck random disease-infested strangers from clubs.
Neither did they fuck arch nemeses with black messy hair and glasses, he told his libido sternly. He couldn't believe he was mooning over Potter. It was embarrassing.
Potter finally came out of the showers, wearing a tight white vest and tracksuit bottoms. His hair was wet and curling at the ends. He looked, to put it bluntly, absolutely edible. Draco cursed inwardly.
"Matthias said you hurt your shoulder. Come to the office, I'll give you a quick rub down." There, he sounded brisk and business-like.
Potter, strangely, was looking a little forlorn. "It's okay, it's nothing really. Just a strain. I'll rest it at home." He started edging away from Draco, heading towards the exit. Draco eyed him curiously.
"Don't be stupid, you may as well get it sorted out now, you'll only end up in pain." Draco stepped forward and poked the shoulder in question and ducked out of the way as Potter took a swing at him. "See? That doesn't look like it's just a strain. Come to the office." Potter rubbed at his throbbing shoulder, scowling fiercely at Draco. Draco ignored him and led the way to the Medics' Office with its small treatment room attached.
Draco ushered him into the room and onto the bed, ordering him not to move as he washed his hands in the sink, dried them and cast a heat aura over his palms. He glared at Potter as he began working at his injured shoulder, applying a slight steady pressure and watching him relax incrementally. At last Potter sighed, relaxing fully into the massage. A sleepy, comfortable quietness settled about them, interrupted only by their breathing and the sounds of skin rubbing against skin.
Potter broke the silence. "You seemed to be getting on pretty well with the Harpies Beater." Was Potter actually making conversation?
Draco snorted, "Is that what you'd call it? She was a brainless twit. Had a body to die for, of course. Why, you wanted her for yourself?"
Potter spluttered. "I- I didn't mean it like that! Well, I suppose I did, but- wait, I shouldn't be prying into your private life anyway, it was- Ow ow, fuck, ow," he pulled away from Draco, obviously in pain.
"You idiot, would you just relax for a bit and let me do my job?" he scolded, "Stop wriggling. What's got you so wound up, anyway?" He recast the heat aura to his hands, massaging his patient's shoulder very gently, picking up from Potter's cues when he hit a sore spot.
"You've got me wound up, Malfoy. I swear, I can't decide if I want to tear your head off or-" Potter coughed awkwardly. "Or. Um. Anyway, you should watch out for Joanna Stilton. I hear she goes through men like pairs of knickers."
Draco sniggered. "Duly noted. Thanks for the invaluable advice." Potter's face reddened; it was almost cute, really. "By the way, feel free to pry into my private life all you want, I know I would do the same to you."
Potter laughed. "There must be a catch," he assumed a pompous expression and continued, "You won't answer any prying questions you deem unsuitable for your betterment."
Draco scowled at him. "I do not sound like that, you mindless boor. Also, yes, that's exactly true."
"So you didn't like Joanna at all?"
"Well I wouldn't discuss Ministry politics with her, but she did have fabulous breasts. Hmm." Draco could feel his prick responding just to the thought alone, and he shook his head. Some serious charm work was going on there. No way was this natural for a homosexual man.
Potter's cheerful expression melted away. "Um, yeah, well, I guess." There was an awkward pause, and then he jumped off the bed and began gathering his things.
"I have to go now, I need to pop into Tesco's and it's already late," Potter said briskly, already at the door with one hand resting on the doorknob, all but itching to leave. Draco nearly asked what Tesco was, then figured it was probably some vulgar Muggle thing. Potter dithered with one foot over the threshold; he looked up at Draco, then down at his feet, then he shook his head to Banish whatever he'd been thinking. "Um, bye."
Draco blinked, an alarming thought occurring to him as he pieced the evidence together.
He was disappointed, Draco realised, staring after Potter's departing back. Potter was actually disappointed that Draco had been staring at Joanna Stilton's chest instead of... what? Instead of staring at his chest? Was that what he wanted?
Draco closed his eyes. Circe's twat, but he needed a drink.
* * * * *
20th April 2006, 5:27pm
Needles of rain stabbed at Draco's skin as he hurried onto the pitch to assist in yet another magnificent Quidditch accident. He was on centre pitch duty, so he was the closest to see the undoubtedly rigged Bludgers that had hurtled wildly at all the Cannons players without guidance from any Beaters. He had just about been able to make out Potter being hit far above them amongst the storm clouds and had watched with dread as he fell from his broom, hurtling towards the ground. Even as his logical mind listed Potter's possible resultant injuries, nothing could have prepared him for the sight before his eyes. Potter lay flat on his face in the mud, a black pool of blood gathering around his head. His right hand was still clutching the stupid Snitch.
The stunned spectators were eerily quiet and the heavy rain thrummed steadily against the earth.
Draco's heart stopped as he took all this in, and then he was a great rush of adrenaline and instinctive action. He ran to Potter's side, casting a Protego bubble around them and then drying and Banishing the sickening mixture of blood and dirt from around Potter's motionless body. Draco's wand hand shook so dreadfully he had to hold his wand with both hands as he painstakingly levitated Potter's body around to face up, terrified that he might jar what could be a broken spine.
Fuck, what did he do next? Fuck. Draco had never had to handle first-line management on an unconscious patient before. He glanced outside the Protego bubble and saw the other medics running from their duty posts too, but they were still too far away to help with Potter yet. Fuck.
Draco took a deep breath to dispel the throbbing headache behind his eyeballs. He could do this, he just needed to remain calm. What did he have to do next? He cleared the gunk from around Potter's nose and mouth, but there was still no breathing. Pulse was present but weak, and blood had started to form a new puddle around his head. Draco ripped open his medic kit for the oxygen mask, enlarging it and holding it carefully against Potter's face. He pointed his wand at Potter's sternum and cast Inhalaro, watching his chest rise, followed by Exhalaro, and then repeated it again and again. The pool of blood continued to enlarge, but Draco had run out of free hands to search for the cut.
At last, Matthias arrived with two other medics and one of the large emergency medic packs. Draco raised his Protego momentarily to let them in, the cold rain and wind sweeping underneath the gap and chilling him to the bone. Draco reeled off his report, his heart pounding.
"Airway clear, no breathing, pulse 43 and weak. There's a badly bleeding gash on his head. Possible C-spine injury, but I haven't done a bone assessment yet."
Matthias nodded once then pointed at the emergency pack. "Accio blood replenishing potion, Level 3 strength," and the little purple vial smacked into Matthias's palm. "Eric, get some bandages. I want a bone scan of his head and neck, lateral and AP view." Eric ran to get the bandages, nearly tripping in the mud. "Careful, Eric, we don't need another casualty! Draco, administer the blood potion, one stat dose, IV. I'll take over breathing, your wand arm must be tired." Draco gladly relinquished the oxygen mask to Matthias and jumped up, taking the purple vial from Matthias's hand and kneeling beside Potter's right arm.
The flustered Eric stood at Potter's head, cautiously pushing aside Potter's hair. "I can't find the cut, Matthias. It must be on the back of his head."
"Damn. Okay, start the scan anyway so we can see if he's safe to manoeuvre." Eric began casting the anchoring points for the scan, trying not to get in Matthias' or Draco's way.
Draco tried to push Potter's sleeve up, but the cloth was soaked through with rainwater and it wouldn't budge. He ran his wand down Potter's arm and sliced the cloth, spreading it aside like layers of skin to reveal Potter's inner arm. The skin was unnaturally pale and sweaty, and Draco had another moment of mindless panic that Potter wouldn't pull through. But he shook his head, telling himself to stop being such a ninny and that everything was under control. A slight movement caught his eye, and he looked down to see the Snitch still held tight in Potter's hand.
Draco let out a burst of what could have been a cry or a laugh, and he reached down to extricate the thing from those cold fingers, shoving it into his jacket pocket. For a terrible moment, he had the urge to take hold of Potter's hand.
"Have you given the blood potion yet?" Draco blinked and turned to Matthias who had now strapped the oxygen mask properly to Potter's face. "He's stable and breathing. No spinal or skull injuries beyond the nasty cut in his head. We're ready to move him to the Infirmary." Relief flooded in to replace the weight of dread in his stomach, and Draco heaved a great calming sigh. Thank goodness.
"Um, no not yet, his clothes were wet so I had to cut them." Draco shook his shoulders, returning to work mode. He positioned the vial pointy end down into the most prominent vein in Potter's arm and placed his wand at the designated marking on the base of the vial.
"Intravena."
* * * * *
1st May 2006, 8:46pm
"I wanted to say-" Potter cleared his throat nervously and patted at his mouth with a napkin before continuing. "I wanted to say thank you."
Draco looked up from his plate of chips. "For what?" He blinked coyly.
"For saving me at the last match. I heard from the others that you were the first to get to me and, what's his name? The medic in charge, Michael or something."
"Matthias."
"Yeah, him. He said if it weren't for you and all the stuff you did before the other medics reached me, I could have been brain damaged." Potter grimaced at the thought, and looked at Draco seriously. "Thank you, Malfoy. You saved my life."
Draco opened and closed his mouth. How to respond to something like that? "Don't be ridiculous, Potter, I was only doing my job." He popped another chip into his mouth and smirked. "Besides, if I weren't your medic, I'd have left you for dead."
Potter rolled his eyes and turned back to his food, smiling a little. "Yeah, right. You don't have the guts." He chewed thoughtfully on his garlic bread. "In fact, I bet even if you weren't a medic, if I weren't your job, you'd have saved me anyway just so I would owe you one." He grinned triumphantly and picked up his Butterbeer.
"Surprisingly perceptive, but don't be so sure. You're never safe around me." He assumed a sinister expression, and Potter snorted into his drink. Draco leaned back in his chair and laughed, surprised to find that he was having... fun. With Potter. Who had insisted on buying him dinner in gratitude. And there was a slight possibility that they were flirting, but Draco refused to go down that train of thought for fear of the world turning upside down. Potter looked up at him, his green eyes twinkling Dumbledore-style with mischief.
Yup, definitely flirting, Draco thought with rising panic. He turned away hastily, searching for something to say that would break the camaraderie. A slight buzz in his pocket provided a convenient excuse. "Oh, by the way Potter, thought you might want this." Draco drew out the deactivated Snitch, its wings twitching fitfully.
Potter quirked an eyebrow at the proffered Snitch. "Why would... oh, is that from the accident? Why do you still have it?"
Draco reconsidered his decision to bring up this topic. "Had to pry it out of your corpse hands when I was giving you a blood potion on the pitch. I forgot it was still in my pocket 'til later." He most certainly had not been carrying it around in his jacket pocket, occasionally stroking the Snitch's engraved surface with his thumb like a stress ball to dispel the images of Potter unconscious in a pool of his own blood from his mind. Not at all.
Potter's face grew serious as he reached forward and stroked a finger down the Snitch's wing. Draco watched in horror as that callus-roughened finger continued along the golden surface of the Snitch and up to Draco's thumb. The nerves in his skin seemed to leap at every miniscule brush of Potter's finger, and Cronus help him he couldn't move his hand away. But a few moments later the decision was taken out of his hands as Potter drew back, that same blasted finger now reaching for his all-but-forgotten drink and stroking along the top of the glass rim, back and forth.
"I want you to keep it." Draco's eyes jumped up to look at his adversary and if he were so inclined, he would have gasped at the open heat in Potter's green eyes. Draco blinked once to compose himself, his heart pounding in spite of his efforts. He raised an eyebrow at Potter. "No, really, keep it." Potter took a drink of his Butterbeer, the mist of tension around them seeming to sharpen. "Think of it as an IOU, to be collected at a later date."
"Any particular restrictions on the method of collection?"
Potter still looked at him, his straight white teeth a contrast as they bit down on his pink lower lip.
"No."
* * * * *
2nd May 2006, 6:51pm
Potter's mouth was clearly a product of Hades. Why else would Draco find himself leaning against the unforgiving porcelain sink digging into his back, unable to raise a protest against the hot, moist onslaught on his neck? Draco grappled behind him, his left hand finding purchase against the soap dispenser on the wall beside him, his right hand holding awkwardly onto a tap.
Potter's warm, square hands were splayed around his waist, tugging him just close enough to graze their groins together teasingly. Draco groaned, reaching for Potter's face to pull his lips up to Draco's own. Without warning, Potter wrenched Draco towards him, hard. The momentum carried them a couple of steps towards the centre of the room, and closer to the bed.
"I can't believe we're doing this here," Draco muttered in between Potter's hungry kisses.
Potter laughed briefly. "Hah, you don't seem too concerned." A hand had begun to slide under Draco's tunic, settling hot and promising against his ribs. Draco shivered.
"A medic might come in at any moment."
Potter started unbuttoning Draco's white tunic. "Everyone's gone home, it's safe to switch the lights on." He leaned forward. "We're all alone, Malfoy," he breathed into Draco's ear.
"It seems wrong to desecrate the treatment room."
Potter blinked and reared back, then sniggered. "Desecrate? Well, would you feel more comfortable if we did it in the supply cupboard?"
Draco slapped Potter's hands away so he had room to explore. He ran his palms curiously over Potter's shoulders and upper arms, stroking back up with the slightest of pressure so the fine down on his skin brushed Draco's hands. "I haven't agreed to do anything with you, in here or the supply cupboard."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"
"Shut it, I'm not doing anything in a cupboard. There's a perfectly serviceable bed here," Draco pointed to said item a few feet away.
"But that's for sick people. It'd be creepy to make out on it." Potter suddenly dragged Draco by his partially undone tunic, pressing him against the closed door of the supply cupboard. The smooth wood felt cool against Draco's back, a contrast to the engulfing warmth of Potter's body at his front. Potter's stubbled cheek brushed Draco's, his hands planted either side of Draco's shoulders to give him leverage as he rubbed against Draco's rapidly hardening cock. Draco hissed, wriggling back and forth in counterpoint, leaning his forehead against Potter's shoulder.
"You are so bloody sexy in your little nurse's uniform, you know."
Draco reared his head back violently, wincing as it connected with the door. "Nurse's uniform!? You little shit, I'm not a fucking nurse. I'm a sports medic!" He turned his head away as Potter leaned forward for an apologetic nip at his lips. "No, piss off! I'm not having sex with someone who thinks I'm a girl. You can get Meredyth to suck your cock if you want to defile a nurse."
Potter laughed. "Meredyth is 65 years old."
"Exactly." Draco slid out from under Potter. "Urgh, my back is killing me. I've had enough." And without warning, Draco shoved Potter down onto the floor with a move he hadn't used since his wartime days. He stood up with his feet either side of Potter's body. Potter gazed up at him from the floor in wide-eyed lust, a tiny gasp escaping him.
"How'd you do that?" He licked his parted lips, and Draco could see he was breathing more rapidly, and the bulge in his jeans had just become a tad more visible. So he liked it a little rough, eh?
Draco smirked before crouching down, settling his bottom over Potter's crotch. "Idiot. What did you think sports medics did all day? Do the crossword?"
"Have sex?" And Potter grasped the pocket on Draco's tunic to pull him forward, sighing into the ensuing messy kiss. Draco wished he could find fault with Potter's prowess, but the truth was he was too horny to care. And they were still wearing far too many clothes.
Draco lifted up from the kiss with a wet smack and reached down to tug Potter's tracksuit bottoms. "Take your trainers off. Merlin's bollocks, you really do have ridiculously hairy legs."
"And you're as smooth as a baby's bum, Malfoy," he retorted, running his rough palms over Draco's back under his tunic. "I bet you wax and-- oh, yeah." Potter stuttered to a halt as Draco reached into his cotton boxers and brushed Potter's cock with a fingertip. "Yes, unh." He groaned when Draco slipped his hand away. "Where are you going?"
"Too many clothes." Draco replied. He undid the rest of the buttons on his tunic and shrugged it off. The light from the hallway leaked in through the window of the office door, picking out the scars on Draco's chest.
"Oh, Sectum sempra!" Potter blurted before his face crumpled at what he'd just said. Draco scowled, though he wasn't really angry.
"Let's not talk about that. I'll guilt you into a favour over it later," Draco commanded. Potter nevertheless looked unhappy, possibly on the verge of apologetic. Draco hastily fished out the wand from his discarded tunic and cast warming, lighting, and sanitation charms on their rendezvous, in that order. "That's better." He settled back down onto Potter's groin, leaning for forward with his hands either side of Potter's head. He hummed as Potter's T-shirt brushed his chest, his nipples tightening as a thrill ran down his abdomen into his groin.
Draco looked at Potter's face in the improved illumination, his eyes tracing the plump red lips, flushed cheeks, that shock of soft dark hair falling into his bright eyes. Come to think of it, he almost had the gentle rounded features of a classic Mills and Boon English Rose. Funny how you didn't notice these things when you disliked someone so much. He traced a finger down Potter's cheek, feeling the heat of that flush seep into his own skin. Potter turned his head and parted his seeking lips, and Draco obliged with a fingertip that was quickly enclosed in Potter's hot sucking mouth.
Draco's eyelids fluttered. God, he hadn't been this turned on since losing his virginity. He pressed his other hand down beside Potter's shoulder to steady himself and rocked down onto Potter's crotch, enjoying the garbled moans spilling out around his finger in Potter's mouth, imagining him moaning around his cock. God, that was hot. Him and Harry Potter. So fucking hot, he couldn't believe he'd never thought of it when they'd been at school.
Draco pulled out his finger from Potter's mouth and replaced it with his tongue, running his spit-slick fingertip down Potter's cheek and rubbing his knuckle over the faintly stubbled chin. Draco eventually pulled back when he started feeling breathless, sitting up and running his hands under Potter's top and over his trim, firm, delicious torso. Draco twisted his shoulder to rub an itch on the side of his face, and caught sight of the desk to their left. He hummed in thought.
"When was the last time you had sex?" he asked curiously, reviewing the contents of the desk drawer from memory.
"Too long. Who cares? Let's shag."
Draco snickered and picked up his wand, opening the desk drawer and Accio-ing a fat blue plastic tube into his hand. "No need to get your balls in a twist, Potter. I want to know so I can decide how much lubrication we need."
"Oh." Potter grinned, probably thrilled to know he'd be getting laid tonight. "Well, I could try a lube charm? Haven't done one before, but how hard could it be?" Draco eyed Potter balefully before turning back to the tube, reading the ingredients carefully. "Or you could do one? Isn't that the stinky medical gel you use on me? How do you know it wouldn't sting?"
"I can only conjure antiseptic lubrication, and that would definitely sting. Ok, this'll do." He uncapped the tube and sniffed, before nodding to himself and levering up with a hand on Potter's chest. He ooph'ed in response, and then seeing that Draco was slipping out of his trainers and trousers, curled his legs up to do likewise.
They finally kneeled in front of each other, Draco completely naked and Potter in his vest and socks. Draco would have complained about the inequality, but Potter looked utterly adorable.
"You look utterly ridiculous."
Potter grinned unrepentantly. "Fuck you, too." He grasped Draco's shoulders and drew him forward for a leisurely kiss with a promise. Draco tugged Potter's hips until they were pressed cock to cock, and the sensations were so marvellous he couldn't suppress a groan into Potter's mouth. Potter groaned right back and slid his hands from Draco's shoulders to his bottom, gripping and pushing until Draco was half-straddling Potter's thighs. Their skin gathered moisture, allowing them to thrust against each other faster and faster. As the kiss grew messier and more desperate, Draco was surprised to feel the first tingling of oncoming orgasm in the base of his spine. He hastily drew away.
"Stop, wait," he gasped. "I'm too close, I want you to fuck me first." He squashed his lips against Potter's again, their tongues sliding over each other inelegantly. The tube he'd found had been knocked out of range behind Potter. "The lube's behind you," he mumbled between licks and sucks of Potter's lips.
Potter leaned back to blindly grope for the tube. He teetered a little at the awkward position, trying to stay upright, but Draco was having none of it.
"Ow, fuck!" Potter winced from where he lay on the hard floor. "Be a little gentle, would you?"
Draco straddled his hips and picked up the tube from the floor. "I don't do gentle, Potter, surely you know that?" He dribbled the lube into his palm, the scent of herbs meeting his nostrils.
"What is that, some kind of aromatherapy thing?" Potter didn't wait for an answer, taking the tube from Draco and squirted a splodge into his own palm and running it over his cock. Draco could feel Potter's eyes on him as he slowly prepared himself with tentative touches and a small measure of finger.
"I can't believe I'm about to have sex with you. Who'd have thought it, eh? Me and Draco Malfoy, hah." Potter grinned up at Draco, then went back to watching his fingers disappearing into his body. "You are so fucking hot. I can't wait any longer." He replaced the gently preparing fingers with a roughly shoved-in thumb. There was a slight twinge of pain, but god it felt so good. So incredibly good that the sound that came out of Draco's mouth could almost be described as a whine. "I want you right now. Look at you, hard as nails." Potter raised his free hand, slick with sweat and lube, and took hold of Draco's neglected cock.
"You talk too much, you know that, Potter? Fuck, yes," Draco panted, every movement of Potter's rough fingers making his hips jerk involuntarily. He was so close, he could taste it. "Get on with it, I'm ready, for fuck's sake."
"Good," and then Draco felt the sensation of Potter's decidedly average but god-how-he-wanted-it-right-now cock press into him, the passage eased by lube and sweat and lust. "Yes, fuck, I've needed a shag for so long," he groaned, pulling himself off Potter's cock and pressing back down, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Potter groaned "Likewise," running his hands up Draco's chest to his nipples, "though I hope," sliding over his sides and down his back, "that I'm not just," splaying his fingers over Draco's buttocks and pushing him up 'til Potter's cock almost slipped out, "a one off shag to," shoving in hard, "scratch an itch". Draco's heart pounded as his arse and cock and skin tingled. He flailed his hands about 'til he met the still-open desk drawer. He gripped it tightly as he reached down with his other hand to stroke his own cock. He looked down to see Potter's flushed, glowing face grimacing in pleasure. Sweat-damp black hair clung to his forehead and his gorgeous throat and shoulders strained, the sight making Draco moan and move his fingers faster.
A moment later, he felt one of Potter's hands move from his bottom round to his cock, and Draco thrust into the tight canal made by their mingled fingers. The teasing edge of pleasure that had begun in his spine earlier now felt like a hot shock, driving through him and into him, gathering sensation from his body and trickling down into his balls and cock, 'til the tension was unbearable and he was coming hard. The sensation took his breath away and stopped his heart, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, everything was concentrated on his cock as his come spurted out and all over Potter in a big white mess.
It was glorious.
Draco finally landed in a heap onto Potter, spent and exhausted. He couldn't remember if Potter had come, but he guessed he must have done since Potter looked just as wrung out and replete.
"Fuck." Potter whimpered pitifully into Draco's neck. "My back is killing me." He pressed a kiss onto Draco's skin. "We have got to try that again some time."
Draco huffed a tired laugh, "I'll check my schedule."
* * * * *
5th May 2006, 12:22pm
"Are you absolutely out of your puny Neanderthal mind?? I can't believe you just did that!"
"Malfoy, I just-"
"You just what? Idiot. I could lose my job over this! Did that ever occur to you? Of course not - the sun just shines out of Harry bleeding Potter's arse, doesn't it? No sense in that skull of yours except spreading chaos and destruction and-"
"Come off it, Malfoy, it was only a hug. Stop overreacting." Potter was beginning to smile a little in the face of Draco's incandescent rage, which only made him angrier.
"I am not overreacting. If you had even a molecule of intelligence, you'd realise what an absolute idiot you are."
"That makes no sense." Potter was openly grinning now.
"Shut up, it makes perfect sense." Draco ran a shaky hand through his hair. "How in Merlin's hairy bollocks am I going to face Matthias after this? I'll be sacked for sure. Do you realise how hard I worked to get this job, Potter? Humiliation after humiliation, rejections from every Healer Academy I applied to, because of a stupid tattoo on my arm that isn't even there anymore, judging me from old recycled gossip from years ago, and then you! You waltz into my life and ruin everything by kissing me on the fucking Quidditch pitch!?"
Draco took a deep breath, his throat raw after his loud and, unfortunately, high-pitched tirade. He could feel his face hot and throbbing as all the blood rushed to his head, his body so tensed he wondered if he would ever un-tense again. Potter tentatively reached out to touch his arm, and he barely resisted the urge to throw him off.
"Malfoy." Potter nervously cleared his throat. "Draco." Draco raised his eyebrow at this new development. "I'm no good at this stuff, okay? I just, I didn't think."
"That much is obvious." Draco grumped.
"Shut up for a moment." Potter sighed. "Look, was there anyone on the field who seemed at all disgusted with you? With us? Anyone who looked outraged or... or you know, scandalised?"
"Of all the-"
"Malfoy," Potter warned.
"Okay fine, no one was disgusted, but that's not the point! Once rumours spread that we shagged, I'll be sacked!"
"For being gay?"
"No, for sleeping with their star Quidditch player! Saviour of the sodding Wizarding world and bane of my existence." A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to him. "It's like... a secretary sleeping with the boss for a promotion! Good god, Matthias will have my testicles on a plate."
Potter shook his head in disbelief and placed his other hand gently on Draco's shoulder. "It's none of Matthias' business who we choose to sleep with! And I don't have any say in who gets promoted to what except amongst the Quidditch players. I've got nothing to do with the medics."
"Yes, but-"
"But nothing. You're being stupid. Stop it. It's giving me a headache." Potter began stroking his shoulder back and forth, smiling that sweet wry smile of his, and damn him to Azkaban, Draco could feel his ire leaking out of him like a deflated balloon. Potter hesitantly leaned down, his hopeful lips parting. Draco reluctantly stood still as they met, and soon found himself lost in the taste of Potter's mouth and the smell of his aftershave. He almost groaned when Potter slipped away from the kiss with a moist smack, and he almost groaned again as those lips traced down his throat and sucked on the skin under his jaw.
A sudden gasp from the end of the corridor followed by hastily retreating footsteps had Draco wrenching away in alarm. "Someone was there, someone saw us necking. Shit."
Potter remained defiant. "So what? Let them see." He advanced towards Draco again, so close that their eyelashes nearly touched. "It's a sight they'll come across very often," he whispered as his lips descended once more.
* * * * *
9th May 2006, 9:49pm
"Potter, you have the most appalling taste in furniture," Draco lamented. "Surely you can afford an interior designer."
"What would I want one of those for?" Potter mumbled behind his mug of tea, handing Draco a bright blue mug with some inane caricature of a duck drawn on it. Draco sniffed the dark liquid, the scent of substandard coffee meeting his nostrils. "I only stay here to sleep, anyway. The rest of the time we're training, on tour, or getting drunk."
"Hmmmph." Draco took stock of the bookshelf that was stacked with thin plastic boxes. "What the hell are these?"
"DVDs - they're films on a disc, you watch them on my DVD player." Potter pointed at a glistening silver box with a plethora of buttons.
"Films? So it's a camera, is it?"
Potter started to speak, then shook his head. "Never mind, I'm not in the mood for a crash course in Muggle Studies." Potter sat his mug on a table and started closing in on him. Draco remained where he was, put his own mug aside on the shelf behind him to await his prey. Potter stood chest to chest with him, groin to groin, and Draco leant forward with a groan to finally press against that lush mouth he hadn't kissed in days.
They kissed and groped and tugged at each other's clothes, paying no attention to where they were stumbling, until Draco almost toppled over when the side of Potter's hideous sofa met his knee. Potter pulled his head out from under Draco's pushed-up jumper and glanced at the sofa, before looking back at Draco with such searing heat in his eyes, he wondered that the room didn't catch fire.
"I want to drive you absolutely insane." Potter ran his hand down Draco's side and slipped his fingers under the waistband of his trousers. Draco squirmed, cursing his own ticklishness, and complied when Potter guided him to sit on the sofa. Potter kneeled comfortably on the floor between his legs, watching Draco patiently until he couldn't bear the tension.
He wriggled self-consciously until he was ensconced in the sofa cushions, legs spread out and ready. Potter suddenly sniggered. "All set?"
Draco frowned. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
Potter grinned insolently. "It's a start." He started to undo Draco's trainers.
"Let me do that," Draco said quickly, toeing them off as Potter tugged down his trousers and underwear in one go. Draco's breath caught in his throat as Potter stayed kneeling in front of him, looking at his half-hard cock. His cock seemed to appreciate the attention and perked up fully, wafts of Potter's breath falling teasingly onto the taut, flushed skin. He let out a tiny "Unh" when the bottom of his jumper slipped down and brushed the tip. Potter bent his head, and Draco shut his eyes.
God, it had been an age since he'd had a good long blowjob. Potter kept a steady, hot suction on his cock while his rough hands stroked his balls, his thighs, his belly, and back up to hold his cock still while Potter flickered his tongue over the tip. "Potte- oh fuck. Fuck that's good. Potter," Draco stammered, "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Call me Harry." Potter lifted his head, all guileless eyes and soft mouth. "Go on, say it," and he bent down to take Draco's cock all the way to the base.
He buried his hands in the coarse haystack of black hair before him, pushing it back to reveal Potter's smooth brow and his nose brushing Draco's pubic hair. The sight set off a shudder running down Draco's spine, making him grip Potter's hair tighter, and Draco knew he must be hurting Potter, but he couldn't help it. If he let go, he'd surely fly apart.
"Harry." Draco groaned as the clench of pleasure in his groin threatened to unfurl. His body started to quiver with the urge to thrust.
"Harry." Draco's hips pushed up a little, and Potter - Harry - went with it smoothly. "Fuck. Yes. Harry." He pushed more, again and again, and Harry's glorious mouth moved in counterpoint, and then those warm rough hands gripped Draco by the hips and let him thrust. Draco arched his back as the clench in his groin unfurled and shattered, hot tight pleasure skittering up his spine and into his balls, his thighs, his toes, his belly, and his cock at last pulsed and he came almost silently, his body so tense he couldn't even voice the shouts of bliss stuck in his throat.
"Harry," Draco gusted out, and then he tensed again as another wave swept down his body and out of his cock, into Harry's waiting mouth. He panted and released Harry's hair to splay his fingers on the cushions behind his head, coming for what seemed like forever until with one last twitch he sank back into the sofa, spent and languid. His poor abused cock almost couldn't bear the strokes of Harry's tongue as he lapped up the traces of come that had escaped him, and Draco groaned again.
"Harry," Draco mumbled. Harry looked up, eyes bright with mischief and what Draco could have sworn was happiness. "Harry."
"That's my name. Don't wear it out."
* * * * *
27th May 2006, 6:32pm
"Are we in a relationship, then?"
Draco looked up from the book he was reading, eyebrows arched in disbelief. "A relationship? I should hope not." He laughed at the look of dismay on Harry's face. "Don't worry, I'm not dumping you, for Circe's sake. We are having regular, surprisingly satisfactory sex. I heal your frequent little injuries and do your physio, after which we have sex. We occasionally share meals, after which we also have sex."
Harry walked over to perch on the table beside Draco's book. "So we're having sex?"
"We're having sex. Now leave me alone, I'm studying. Exams are next week."
"After which, you'll be a fully fledged Healer?"
"No, you idiot. After which I'm still a sports medic, but one rung above the level of 'dog turd'."
Harry stepped away from the desk to kiss Draco behind the ear, quickly nipping at the irresistible little earlobe before Draco swatted him away like a fly. "All right, all right, I'm going! Um, good luck, yeah? You'll do great." Harry scratched the back of his neck, not sure whether Draco would fly off the handle at his admittedly useless platitudes. Draco cleared his throat, at which Harry trotted obediently towards the door.
Just as he was about reach for the handle, the door swung open and Matthias rushed in, nearly smacking into Harry. "Oops, sorry Potter, didn't see you there. What are you doing here so late?"
Draco cringed at Harry's awkward reply, and concentrated very hard on his revision notes when Matthias turned to him. "He was just leaving, weren't you, Potter?" Draco mumbled into his notes, glancing up only to see Harry's slightly hurt expression. He flashed him a half-smirk and a raised eyebrow, feeling pleased when the hurt melted away from Harry's face.
"Err, yeah. Um, I'll go now." Harry turned to leave.
"You can have Draco back once his exams are over." Harry's eyes widened in alarm. So did Draco's. Matthias barreled on, "Take him out for a congratulatory dinner or something. He doesn't get out of this building enough." Matthias grabbed his coat hanging from the hook on the back of the door, checked his inbox and walked out of the office, waving goodbye to them both.
They didn't move 'til Matthias' footsteps had mostly faded away, then they turned to one another. Draco could feel his face burning with embarrassment, and Merlin knew what kind of expression he had on his face. Harry, however, looked positively smug.
"I told you he wouldn't care we were shagging."
Draco huffed, "Oh, sod off," picking up a paperweight threateningly.
Harry made a hasty retreat, though he was still smiling, the tosser. Draco could hear the old hag of a nurse Meredyth stumble over a response to Harry's uncharacteristic hearty greeting when they passed in the hall. Draco got up to shut the office door, lingering at the threshold as he watched Harry stride around the corner towards the practice pitches.
Draco smiled slightly and got back to work.
* * * * *
End