"The Joys of Nature" (Harry/Draco)
Title: The Joys of Nature
Author/Artist: birdsofshore
Prompt: Getting caught sunbathing nude
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~2500
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Contains mention of intimate activities not normally conducted up a tree. The use of Madam Bronzina's tanning oil contrary to the manufacturer's instructions.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to dear A, who is the loveliest beta to send a naked sunbathing Draco to.
Summary: More or less exactly what you would expect from the prompt, only sillier.
Admittedly, it wasn't the best idea that Harry had ever had, scrambling up a tree to hide when he heard someone come whistling along the path, but then he really wasn't meant to be there. He was meant to be in double Potions. However, the prospect of being stuck indoors in a stifling classroom for two hours, blundering his way through the hated lesson, had not appealed. So here he was mooching about in the castle grounds, on this most glorious sunny day, without any firm idea of where he was going or what he would do when he got there.
As he peered out through the foliage, he wasn't expecting to see the rangy figure of Draco Malfoy sauntering along the path with his satchel dangling over his shoulder, his tie swinging low at a jaunty angle. Harry recognised the song Malfoy was whistling: a Weird Sisters number called “Master of My Own Destiny.” He guessed there was more than one student tempted by the joys of nature that afternoon. In a panic he whisked the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and flung it over himself as Malfoy approached.
Harry kept as still as he could and held his breath. Malfoy was looking around as if searching for the best spot to sit, and there was a perfect-looking grassy area, filled with sun, just beside what Harry was now thinking of as his tree. When Malfoy continued strolling past and away along the path, Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was just considering whether to climb down again, or stay perched in the tree to enjoy the novel viewpoint for a bit longer, when the whistling ceased abruptly and Malfoy reappeared, heading for the little sunny spot. He walked in a small circle, appraising it from all angles.
No, no! Piss off. Find your own place. Harry screwed up his eyes, willing Malfoy to move on.
However Malfoy, looking smugly pleased (or was that just his default expression when not sneering?), settled himself down on the grass and stretched out as if planning to stay for a long, long time.
Harry shifted on the branch, his bum scraping against a protruding twig. Suddenly being up a tree didn't seem quite so amusing. Malfoy turned to his satchel, taking out a drink, a book and a bottle of Madam Bronzina's, a popular brand of skin potion which both protected the wearer from sunburn, and enhanced the appearance of a tan.
Buggering broomsticks. Harry weighed up his options. He had just decided the best move was to leap down dramatically and run off, hopefully scaring the life out of Malfoy in the process, when Malfoy unthreaded his Slytherin tie from its slack knot, slipped it out from under his collar, and tossed it carelessly onto the grass.
Harry hesitated, wobbling on the branch in his poised-to-leap position. There was no reason why he still shouldn't jump down, but maybe it was better to wait for one minute, just to judge the distance....
Malfoy began on his shirt buttons, his long fingers sure and dextrous. He got to the last button and started to slip the shirt off.
Merlin. Harry's mouth was curiously dry. He had noticed Malfoy's face had turned a honeyed golden-brown over the last month, and that his hair was a whiter shade of blond than usual. He assumed that this new look was down to playing Quidditch outdoors all the time. Now he could see that the tan continued over Malfoy's shoulders and down his torso; it was evident that he had been sunbathing shirtless quite regularly. He was sitting with his back mostly turned to Harry, and as he removed the shirt, the muscles of his back rippled in a most distracting way.
Harry swallowed heavily. His muscles were shaking with the strain of teetering like this, but he might have to rethink Operation Daring Leap. Possibly it was further down than he had initially realised. He didn't want to hurt himself and risk looking a prat in front of Malfoy, after all.
Malfoy threw the shirt next to his tie, and slipped off his shoes and socks. He looked around with a sly expression, before reaching for his trouser buttons.
Harry leaned so far forwards he nearly over-balanced. The leaves around him fluttered and rustled, and Malfoy paused with one hand on his flies. He looked up briefly, with a quizzical look on his face, but then unfastened his trousers and gracefully slid them down around his ankles. His legs were just as tanned as the rest of him: long, toned, and that delicious warm caramel colour. Harry stifled a whimper in his throat. This was a nightmare. He didn't want to be stuck up a tree, watching Draco Malfoy sit about showing off his fit body in those tight little white shorts. No indeed. The little shorts which clung to his backside perfectly, showing every flex and curve of his arse, as he knelt up, bringing his hands towards the waistband of his underwear...
Harry gulped. He surely wasn't going to... Malfoy began to tug the fabric down over his backside. Why, anyone could walk past and see! Harry was scandalised. His eyes were almost popping out of his head with- with- outrage, that's what it was. He was certain it was outrage. Malfoy's arse was as brown as a berry, and as mouthwatering as one too, the taut, smooth skin contrasting gorgeously with the white pants as Malfoy pulled them off. His entire body looked lickable, made for touching and squeezing and kissing...
Naked, he stretched his arms, letting the sunlight dance over his skin, turning from side to side a little. Harry caught a flash of Malfoy's-
Dear God, what the fuck am I doing? Harry forced himself to look away. This was Malfoy, he had to remember that, even if he did seem to have been hiding the body of an eighteen-year-old Apollo under his uniform. The body of a top-notch Quidditch player who adored to sunbathe naked- oh Merlin. Harry definitely wasn't looking, but he couldn't help noticing from the corner of his eye that Malfoy had picked up the potion bottle and was pouring some of the golden oil into his cupped hand.
Harry decided it was in fact better to watch, so that he could report all the dreadful details later. If he was going to tell everyone what Malfoy had been doing during Potions, and make him a laughing-stock, he had better watch very carefully so as not to miss a thing.
Shuffling what he hoped was noiselessly along his branch, he managed to wedge himself against the trunk for safety without compromising his view. The bark was scratchy and a broken branch dug into his shoulder, but an uninterrupted view was, after all, essential for his new scheme of shaming Malfoy, shaming him and probably getting him in big trouble with McGonagall. Harry was pretty sure there must be a school rule which said you must not strip naked in the school grounds. He was positive there would be rules against stripping naked and rubbing oil onto your stunning, sun-kissed flesh. Malfoy would probably get expelled for this. Yes, expelled and publicly humilated! Just as soon as Harry, had watched the whole thing and observed every single detail, so that he would never, ever forget this for as long as he lived.
Malfoy's arms and shoulders were glistening with the oil. He closed his eyes and hummed as he stroked the slippery potion over the muscles of his back. Harry could imagine just how it felt: the sun warming the oil as it slid over Malfoy's skin, the gentle breeze stirring and raising the hairs on his legs, the grass tickling beneath him.
It was the strangest thing, but Harry was really starting to feel quite odd. His trousers, for instance, were really uncomfortable, he was completely hot and sweaty, and parts of him were distinctly swollen and, erm, throbbing. Maybe it was the heat. His breath was coming quickly and unevenly and his heart was battering against his ribs. Definitely the heat. Or maybe he had dragon pox? One of the third years had been taken to St. Mungo's with suspected dragon pox. If only he could get some of his own clothes off, he would feel better. It wasn't that he was feeling turned on, watching Malfoy kneading the cheeks of his own arse, trickling more potion into his hand and thoroughly rubbing it in with firm strokes. Harry was ill, that was what was making his head spin like this, making his blood beat in his veins, making him want to rip his trousers open and yank his cock out and-
No. Harry was not going to touch himself. There was no way on earth he was going to sit up a tree, wanking, while watching Draco Malfoy apply sun oil.
Oh god. Malfoy had finished that side and was getting comfortable on his back, down on the grass, and drizzling liquid over his chest. Harry wanted to look everywhere at once. Malfoy's face was blissful, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. His nipples were tanned and gorgeous, a light breeze teasing them erect, but oh, Merlin, Malfoy's cock was just lying there, resting in a tangle of sun-bleached curls, looking heavy and, well, bloody perfect, that's what it was. Fucking hell, it was stirring and thickening as Harry watched, while Malfoy smoothed oil over the ridges and dips of his stomach muscles.
By swinging one leg over the other side of the branch to straddle it, and leaning back against the trunk, Harry felt far less precarious, and was able to spread out parts of himself that had been getting squashed. Ah, that was much better. Harry was only adjusting his trousers. Not wanking. Just... touching himself a little bit, while he rearranged things down there. That wasn't wanking. He was just opening his flies (to get some air to his skin), just taking out his cock, moving the foreskin up and down, smoothing precome over the head... This was a little bit like wanking, admittedly, but he was just... just... he was just getting comfortable. Nobody could sit there, just sit there, watching Malfoy rubbing oil on his perfect body, sighing in contentment as he stretched out completely naked, spread out for Harry's enjoyment... nobody could sit there without rubbing his thumb over the slit, fisting himself and pushing into the tight circle of his fingers again and again...
Oh shit. He was definitely wanking.
A moan of horror and longing escaped from Harry's lips. Malfoy's oil application had reached the top of his legs, but at the noise he stopped and peered up at the tree. Harry froze, his guilty hand wrapped tightly around his own aching erection, but Malfoy merely smirked and continued trailing his hands over his thighs. Harry pressed himself against the tree for support and moved his hand urgently under the cloak, biting at his lip desperately to remain silent. It was getting unbearably stuffy beneath the fabric now, with sweat trickling along his forehead. Malfoy touched himself in an increasingly lewd manner, moving in ways Harry was sure were not necessary for even the most thorough sun protection regime. Malfoy pinched his own nipples, then arched his back as he raked his fingers through the curls at the base of his cock. It was now standing proud, its mouth-watering length curving back towards his stomach.
Malfoy allowed his legs to fall open, exposing his heavy balls and pinkly-puckered opening to Harry's avid gaze. Harry was breathless and frantic; his hand a blur, he tasted blood on his lips. One more drizzle of oil into the hand, and then Malfoy pursed his lips in pleasure as his fingers dawdled wickedly towards his hole. As Malfoy coaxed a finger inside, Harry's hand spasmed around his cock and a roaring filled his ears, deafening him to his own shout as he came copiously into his fist.
There was an oppressive silence as Malfoy ceased his oily stroking and opened his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow in the direction of Harry's tree.
Harry stayed as still as he was able, trying to quieten his uneven breaths, but as he squeezed his cock nervously one final gobbet of come pulsed wetly and fell onto the grass next to Malfoy. Harry stared, appalled, as Malfoy sat up and squinted at it, his nose wrinkling.
Malfoy shook his head slowly at Harry's spunk. “Oh, Potter.”
Harry jumped in alarm. What the fuck?
Malfoy looked up. Could the git see through Invisibility Cloaks or something?
“I was still enjoying my starter, and you've rushed right ahead and finished off the main course already. Typical of you.”
Harry wondered if remaining silent and staying in the tree forever was an option.
“Of course, if you're interested in dessert... you could always come down here...” Malfoy lolled back on one elbow, his hair dazzlingly bright against his golden skin.
Harry licked his lips and was climbing out of the tree before you could say Madam Bronzina's.
“You have to promise to join in and not just perve at me, this time. I don't need to ask if you enjoyed the show.” Malfoy smirked as Harry appeared on the grass looking rather dishevelled.
Harry spluttered. “You- you knew all along?”
"Well, not all along. But when the heavy breathing and the...” Malfoy laughed, “...rubbing noises began, it wasn't too hard to guess. There aren't many people at Hogwarts with an Invisibility Cloak." He picked a piece of grass off his bum and flicked it at Harry, appearing completely unabashed.
Harry fought the urge to duck his head to hide his blushes. How could Malfoy be so cool when he was the one laid out on full display, naked as the day he was born? If Malfoy could lounge there grinning, in full knowledge Harry had just watched him use sun-potion as lube to stick a finger up his backside, Harry was not going to get all flustered about a perfectly normal, manly wank. Having a wank in a tree was quite healthy, compared to that, surely? Kind of... wholesome, and natural.
Malfoy offered him the oil. “Think you're up for it, Potter?”
Harry's eyes lingered on Malfoy's still-hard cock. It looked even better at close quarters, flushed darkly at the tip and slightly slick with oil.
“I don't think that'll be a problem. But aren't you worried that I'm going to tell everyone you hang around the grounds bollock-naked?”
“Not really, and if you do, imagine how much fun I'll have telling everyone that the Saviour of the Wizarding World likes to hide in trees and spy on poor unsuspecting sunbathers.”
***
If anyone had been walking in the Hogwarts grounds on that delightfully sunny afternoon, and decided to take one of the paths that meandered from the lake towards the south-east, he, or perhaps she, would have found themselves approaching a handsome oak which probably towered over its neighbours even when Dumbledore was a boy.
If they had then thought to rest in its shade, they would have quickly become aware that a nearby patch of grass, where the sun shone hot and bright, was already very much occupied. They would have seen caramel-coloured limbs tangled together on the grass with paler ones, a blond head bent over a dark one (and sometimes vice versa), and if they had been tempted to stay and peep at what were unusually private acts for such a public place, they would have heard sighs, moans and those intriguing sounds which are a mixture of pleasure and pain.
As no-one did wander that way, Harry and Draco spent a diverting afternoon quite undisturbed in their chosen spot, until the sun oil was all used up, at which point they returned to the Castle: tired, happy, a bit sore in places, and firmly convinced of the joys of naked sunbathing.
Author/Artist: birdsofshore
Prompt: Getting caught sunbathing nude
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~2500
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Contains mention of intimate activities not normally conducted up a tree. The use of Madam Bronzina's tanning oil contrary to the manufacturer's instructions.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to dear A, who is the loveliest beta to send a naked sunbathing Draco to.
Summary: More or less exactly what you would expect from the prompt, only sillier.
Admittedly, it wasn't the best idea that Harry had ever had, scrambling up a tree to hide when he heard someone come whistling along the path, but then he really wasn't meant to be there. He was meant to be in double Potions. However, the prospect of being stuck indoors in a stifling classroom for two hours, blundering his way through the hated lesson, had not appealed. So here he was mooching about in the castle grounds, on this most glorious sunny day, without any firm idea of where he was going or what he would do when he got there.
As he peered out through the foliage, he wasn't expecting to see the rangy figure of Draco Malfoy sauntering along the path with his satchel dangling over his shoulder, his tie swinging low at a jaunty angle. Harry recognised the song Malfoy was whistling: a Weird Sisters number called “Master of My Own Destiny.” He guessed there was more than one student tempted by the joys of nature that afternoon. In a panic he whisked the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and flung it over himself as Malfoy approached.
Harry kept as still as he could and held his breath. Malfoy was looking around as if searching for the best spot to sit, and there was a perfect-looking grassy area, filled with sun, just beside what Harry was now thinking of as his tree. When Malfoy continued strolling past and away along the path, Harry let out a sigh of relief. He was just considering whether to climb down again, or stay perched in the tree to enjoy the novel viewpoint for a bit longer, when the whistling ceased abruptly and Malfoy reappeared, heading for the little sunny spot. He walked in a small circle, appraising it from all angles.
No, no! Piss off. Find your own place. Harry screwed up his eyes, willing Malfoy to move on.
However Malfoy, looking smugly pleased (or was that just his default expression when not sneering?), settled himself down on the grass and stretched out as if planning to stay for a long, long time.
Harry shifted on the branch, his bum scraping against a protruding twig. Suddenly being up a tree didn't seem quite so amusing. Malfoy turned to his satchel, taking out a drink, a book and a bottle of Madam Bronzina's, a popular brand of skin potion which both protected the wearer from sunburn, and enhanced the appearance of a tan.
Buggering broomsticks. Harry weighed up his options. He had just decided the best move was to leap down dramatically and run off, hopefully scaring the life out of Malfoy in the process, when Malfoy unthreaded his Slytherin tie from its slack knot, slipped it out from under his collar, and tossed it carelessly onto the grass.
Harry hesitated, wobbling on the branch in his poised-to-leap position. There was no reason why he still shouldn't jump down, but maybe it was better to wait for one minute, just to judge the distance....
Malfoy began on his shirt buttons, his long fingers sure and dextrous. He got to the last button and started to slip the shirt off.
Merlin. Harry's mouth was curiously dry. He had noticed Malfoy's face had turned a honeyed golden-brown over the last month, and that his hair was a whiter shade of blond than usual. He assumed that this new look was down to playing Quidditch outdoors all the time. Now he could see that the tan continued over Malfoy's shoulders and down his torso; it was evident that he had been sunbathing shirtless quite regularly. He was sitting with his back mostly turned to Harry, and as he removed the shirt, the muscles of his back rippled in a most distracting way.
Harry swallowed heavily. His muscles were shaking with the strain of teetering like this, but he might have to rethink Operation Daring Leap. Possibly it was further down than he had initially realised. He didn't want to hurt himself and risk looking a prat in front of Malfoy, after all.
Malfoy threw the shirt next to his tie, and slipped off his shoes and socks. He looked around with a sly expression, before reaching for his trouser buttons.
Harry leaned so far forwards he nearly over-balanced. The leaves around him fluttered and rustled, and Malfoy paused with one hand on his flies. He looked up briefly, with a quizzical look on his face, but then unfastened his trousers and gracefully slid them down around his ankles. His legs were just as tanned as the rest of him: long, toned, and that delicious warm caramel colour. Harry stifled a whimper in his throat. This was a nightmare. He didn't want to be stuck up a tree, watching Draco Malfoy sit about showing off his fit body in those tight little white shorts. No indeed. The little shorts which clung to his backside perfectly, showing every flex and curve of his arse, as he knelt up, bringing his hands towards the waistband of his underwear...
Harry gulped. He surely wasn't going to... Malfoy began to tug the fabric down over his backside. Why, anyone could walk past and see! Harry was scandalised. His eyes were almost popping out of his head with- with- outrage, that's what it was. He was certain it was outrage. Malfoy's arse was as brown as a berry, and as mouthwatering as one too, the taut, smooth skin contrasting gorgeously with the white pants as Malfoy pulled them off. His entire body looked lickable, made for touching and squeezing and kissing...
Naked, he stretched his arms, letting the sunlight dance over his skin, turning from side to side a little. Harry caught a flash of Malfoy's-
Dear God, what the fuck am I doing? Harry forced himself to look away. This was Malfoy, he had to remember that, even if he did seem to have been hiding the body of an eighteen-year-old Apollo under his uniform. The body of a top-notch Quidditch player who adored to sunbathe naked- oh Merlin. Harry definitely wasn't looking, but he couldn't help noticing from the corner of his eye that Malfoy had picked up the potion bottle and was pouring some of the golden oil into his cupped hand.
Harry decided it was in fact better to watch, so that he could report all the dreadful details later. If he was going to tell everyone what Malfoy had been doing during Potions, and make him a laughing-stock, he had better watch very carefully so as not to miss a thing.
Shuffling what he hoped was noiselessly along his branch, he managed to wedge himself against the trunk for safety without compromising his view. The bark was scratchy and a broken branch dug into his shoulder, but an uninterrupted view was, after all, essential for his new scheme of shaming Malfoy, shaming him and probably getting him in big trouble with McGonagall. Harry was pretty sure there must be a school rule which said you must not strip naked in the school grounds. He was positive there would be rules against stripping naked and rubbing oil onto your stunning, sun-kissed flesh. Malfoy would probably get expelled for this. Yes, expelled and publicly humilated! Just as soon as Harry, had watched the whole thing and observed every single detail, so that he would never, ever forget this for as long as he lived.
Malfoy's arms and shoulders were glistening with the oil. He closed his eyes and hummed as he stroked the slippery potion over the muscles of his back. Harry could imagine just how it felt: the sun warming the oil as it slid over Malfoy's skin, the gentle breeze stirring and raising the hairs on his legs, the grass tickling beneath him.
It was the strangest thing, but Harry was really starting to feel quite odd. His trousers, for instance, were really uncomfortable, he was completely hot and sweaty, and parts of him were distinctly swollen and, erm, throbbing. Maybe it was the heat. His breath was coming quickly and unevenly and his heart was battering against his ribs. Definitely the heat. Or maybe he had dragon pox? One of the third years had been taken to St. Mungo's with suspected dragon pox. If only he could get some of his own clothes off, he would feel better. It wasn't that he was feeling turned on, watching Malfoy kneading the cheeks of his own arse, trickling more potion into his hand and thoroughly rubbing it in with firm strokes. Harry was ill, that was what was making his head spin like this, making his blood beat in his veins, making him want to rip his trousers open and yank his cock out and-
No. Harry was not going to touch himself. There was no way on earth he was going to sit up a tree, wanking, while watching Draco Malfoy apply sun oil.
Oh god. Malfoy had finished that side and was getting comfortable on his back, down on the grass, and drizzling liquid over his chest. Harry wanted to look everywhere at once. Malfoy's face was blissful, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. His nipples were tanned and gorgeous, a light breeze teasing them erect, but oh, Merlin, Malfoy's cock was just lying there, resting in a tangle of sun-bleached curls, looking heavy and, well, bloody perfect, that's what it was. Fucking hell, it was stirring and thickening as Harry watched, while Malfoy smoothed oil over the ridges and dips of his stomach muscles.
By swinging one leg over the other side of the branch to straddle it, and leaning back against the trunk, Harry felt far less precarious, and was able to spread out parts of himself that had been getting squashed. Ah, that was much better. Harry was only adjusting his trousers. Not wanking. Just... touching himself a little bit, while he rearranged things down there. That wasn't wanking. He was just opening his flies (to get some air to his skin), just taking out his cock, moving the foreskin up and down, smoothing precome over the head... This was a little bit like wanking, admittedly, but he was just... just... he was just getting comfortable. Nobody could sit there, just sit there, watching Malfoy rubbing oil on his perfect body, sighing in contentment as he stretched out completely naked, spread out for Harry's enjoyment... nobody could sit there without rubbing his thumb over the slit, fisting himself and pushing into the tight circle of his fingers again and again...
Oh shit. He was definitely wanking.
A moan of horror and longing escaped from Harry's lips. Malfoy's oil application had reached the top of his legs, but at the noise he stopped and peered up at the tree. Harry froze, his guilty hand wrapped tightly around his own aching erection, but Malfoy merely smirked and continued trailing his hands over his thighs. Harry pressed himself against the tree for support and moved his hand urgently under the cloak, biting at his lip desperately to remain silent. It was getting unbearably stuffy beneath the fabric now, with sweat trickling along his forehead. Malfoy touched himself in an increasingly lewd manner, moving in ways Harry was sure were not necessary for even the most thorough sun protection regime. Malfoy pinched his own nipples, then arched his back as he raked his fingers through the curls at the base of his cock. It was now standing proud, its mouth-watering length curving back towards his stomach.
Malfoy allowed his legs to fall open, exposing his heavy balls and pinkly-puckered opening to Harry's avid gaze. Harry was breathless and frantic; his hand a blur, he tasted blood on his lips. One more drizzle of oil into the hand, and then Malfoy pursed his lips in pleasure as his fingers dawdled wickedly towards his hole. As Malfoy coaxed a finger inside, Harry's hand spasmed around his cock and a roaring filled his ears, deafening him to his own shout as he came copiously into his fist.
There was an oppressive silence as Malfoy ceased his oily stroking and opened his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow in the direction of Harry's tree.
Harry stayed as still as he was able, trying to quieten his uneven breaths, but as he squeezed his cock nervously one final gobbet of come pulsed wetly and fell onto the grass next to Malfoy. Harry stared, appalled, as Malfoy sat up and squinted at it, his nose wrinkling.
Malfoy shook his head slowly at Harry's spunk. “Oh, Potter.”
Harry jumped in alarm. What the fuck?
Malfoy looked up. Could the git see through Invisibility Cloaks or something?
“I was still enjoying my starter, and you've rushed right ahead and finished off the main course already. Typical of you.”
Harry wondered if remaining silent and staying in the tree forever was an option.
“Of course, if you're interested in dessert... you could always come down here...” Malfoy lolled back on one elbow, his hair dazzlingly bright against his golden skin.
Harry licked his lips and was climbing out of the tree before you could say Madam Bronzina's.
“You have to promise to join in and not just perve at me, this time. I don't need to ask if you enjoyed the show.” Malfoy smirked as Harry appeared on the grass looking rather dishevelled.
Harry spluttered. “You- you knew all along?”
"Well, not all along. But when the heavy breathing and the...” Malfoy laughed, “...rubbing noises began, it wasn't too hard to guess. There aren't many people at Hogwarts with an Invisibility Cloak." He picked a piece of grass off his bum and flicked it at Harry, appearing completely unabashed.
Harry fought the urge to duck his head to hide his blushes. How could Malfoy be so cool when he was the one laid out on full display, naked as the day he was born? If Malfoy could lounge there grinning, in full knowledge Harry had just watched him use sun-potion as lube to stick a finger up his backside, Harry was not going to get all flustered about a perfectly normal, manly wank. Having a wank in a tree was quite healthy, compared to that, surely? Kind of... wholesome, and natural.
Malfoy offered him the oil. “Think you're up for it, Potter?”
Harry's eyes lingered on Malfoy's still-hard cock. It looked even better at close quarters, flushed darkly at the tip and slightly slick with oil.
“I don't think that'll be a problem. But aren't you worried that I'm going to tell everyone you hang around the grounds bollock-naked?”
“Not really, and if you do, imagine how much fun I'll have telling everyone that the Saviour of the Wizarding World likes to hide in trees and spy on poor unsuspecting sunbathers.”
***
If anyone had been walking in the Hogwarts grounds on that delightfully sunny afternoon, and decided to take one of the paths that meandered from the lake towards the south-east, he, or perhaps she, would have found themselves approaching a handsome oak which probably towered over its neighbours even when Dumbledore was a boy.
If they had then thought to rest in its shade, they would have quickly become aware that a nearby patch of grass, where the sun shone hot and bright, was already very much occupied. They would have seen caramel-coloured limbs tangled together on the grass with paler ones, a blond head bent over a dark one (and sometimes vice versa), and if they had been tempted to stay and peep at what were unusually private acts for such a public place, they would have heard sighs, moans and those intriguing sounds which are a mixture of pleasure and pain.
As no-one did wander that way, Harry and Draco spent a diverting afternoon quite undisturbed in their chosen spot, until the sun oil was all used up, at which point they returned to the Castle: tired, happy, a bit sore in places, and firmly convinced of the joys of naked sunbathing.