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[personal profile] eruditefics
Title: To the Victor go the Spoils
Author/Artist: [personal profile] eruditefics 
Prompt: Harry is a star Seeker and his team has just won the Quidditch League. To keep it secret, the more rowdy celebration takes place in a Muggle sex club/brothel and while Harry doesn't care for girls, he gets a special treat from his teammates – a beautiful blond to spend the night with. Of course, the beautiful blond is Draco, who disappeared from the Wizarding world just after the trials. They're both too proud and headstrong to back away from the challenge, but the night is long and many discoveries can be made...
Prompt submitted by: aline_daryen
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Word Count/Art Medium: About 6,000 words
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): NONE
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 C for the beta work. Written for the 2012 [personal profile] hp_sexstars  fest on LJ
Dear Prompter: I took out one part of the prompt that I couldn’t work into what I was thinking about, but the rest is there!
Summary: Harry is celebrating...and by celebrating we mean drinking. As a result, when his teammates deliver a treat meant to entice him, Harry doesn’t even see it coming. The question is, will he back down, or will he rise to the occasion?


Harry Potter could barely hear his own thoughts over the raucous cheering filling the Puddlemere United stadium. Not that he really wanted to think right then, anyway. The Puddlemere Horntails had just made it into the Final Four teams, and if they won their next match, Harry was going to find himself playing seeker at the Quidditch World Cup in just one month. No, thinking wasn’t a welcome pastime, he just wanted to bask in the perfect moment.

Once Harry found Ron and Hermione rushing out onto the field toward him, his teammates and his friends all decided to go over to the nearby pub for as much drink as they could handle. Harry was excited at the prospect of truly letting loose, and happy to see Hermione agreeing to partake in the festivities despite the very strange and troubled looks she kept shooting toward Ron. Harry was about to ask her what was wrong, when Oliver Wood stood up on a conjured pedestal and began to shout.

“Three Cheers for our fucking maddeningly, brilliant and exceedingly, talented seeker, Harry!” Wood said, and everyone began to shout and cheer again with more gusto. Oliver bought the first round of drinks, and the night was ready to begin.

After ten more unfamiliar mixed drinks, and consequently four trips to the bathroom, Harry was feeling his entire sway and the room was beginning to spin around him. He decided to find Ron and Hermione and go home, or risk making a complete arse of himself and either taking off all of his clothes or vomiting over his teammates. When he got to his best friends, they appeared to be arguing, and Harry tried to focus as hard as he could on what they were saying.

“Hermione, it’s safe and legal in our world, love. Harry will be fine, ” Ron said, putting his hand over hers.

“I think it’s cruel to do without his permission, and it’s in such poor taste!” Hermione admonished, pulling her hand back.

“But even if he couldn’t…you know…at least it might light a fire under him to put himself out there more! He doesn’t look happy. Sure he’s got his career-“ Ron started.

“-but he seems so lonely,” Hermione finished. Harry could feel a wave of nausea rise up in his stomach. Did they set him up again? And why would a blind date be even possibly illegal?

Right before he started playing for the Horntails, Harry had told Ron and Hermione he was gay. They were fine with it, and a lot less surprised than he thought they would be. Ron had a few awkward questions about the mechanics of the more physical aspects of Harry’s tastes, as well as slightly offensive ones about their own relationship, but ultimately nothing much changed. Except that instead of pointing out witches that Harry could date, they now tried to set them up with every gay wizard they knew. At the mention of Charlie Weasley, Harry had put his foot down. And yet, there he was, pissed out of his mind and listening to his best friends plot his love life yet again.

“Ahem!” Harry said, louder and more comically than he had intended to. Ron jumped so high he spilled his drink on Hermione. To her very sober credit, she just vanished away the mess with a gentle eye roll.

“Oh, hey mate!” Ron said, smiling widely as though he hadn’t just been talking about Harry’s love life.

“What are you two up to?” Harry asked. He tried to poke his finger at Ron’s chest, but missed and ended up jamming it on the counter. Ron sighed, grabbed Harry’s hand, and turned him around.

“It’s not us. It’s them,” Ron pointed at Oliver, who was crowded with the rest of The Horntails whispering to each other and looking back at Harry.

“I’m so fucked,” Harry said, gripping the side of the bar to keep from falling over.

“Probably,” Hermione said. “Just try to make the most of it, and owl me when…when you get back home.” Harry watched with dismay as Hermione left, and Ron obediently followed. He was about ready to rush out the door with them when someone grabbed his wrist and flung him back toward his teammates. The motion definitely made him want to vomit.

“Harry! Harry! Harry!” His teammates were chanting. They knew he liked blokes too. Heck, when the captain was in a commited relationship with another man, it’s easy to come out and not feel like an outcast. But the thought that they were about to force some random guy on him was giving Harry a panic attack.

“In honor of his amazing, spectacular, awe-inspiring capture of the snitch today, I bestow up you, Mr. Potter…Mr. Boy Who Lived…Mr. Man Who Always Catches the Snitch…” Oliver was going to keep going, Harry was sure of it, but the beater smacked him hard on the arm. “I give you this key.”

Harry turned it over in his hands a few times. It was a simple gold key with a red chain on it, and the logo of the pub they were at across the chain. “You bought me the bar?” Harry asked, smelling the key. He was confused and drunk, he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. His teammates just continued to laugh even more loudly.

“Not quite, loverboy. Upstairs, number 13,” Oliver said, grinning widely. “We bought you a celebratory pal!”

“No…no no no no no no.” Harry was backing away slowly, trying to make his way to the door. “NO!”

His protestations fell on deaf ears, however, as his teammates hoisted him up and carried him up the stairs like he was riding the rails out of town. Harry began to panic, his head began to spin, and he tried desperately to remember the sobering charm Hermione had taught him. The last thing he needed was to meet some…some rentboy while completely pissed off his arse. Harry remembered the way Ron and Hermione were talking about him, and he suddenly had the urge to cry. Yes, the charm was an absolute necessity.

He was thrown unceremoniously into a room above the pub, and when the door slammed shut behind him, the sudden silence was jarring. He could hear someone breathing slowly from around the corner, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from the entryway. He felt the urge to vomit or shout in rage…or maybe both simultaneously. The knowledge that there was someone there who was expecting sex had Harry’s head spinning even worse.

“What the fuck is that charm?” Harry growled.

“I’m sorry?” someone called from the room. Harry froze. He cleared his throat. He shifted from one foot to another. He lost his balance and fell over. He shouted, “Fuck!”

“Indeed, sir,” the man in the other room purred. Harry’s stomach fell.

“Okay, you listen here-“ Harry started, marching bravely into the room to meet his foe. The rest of what he had planned to say lodged in his throat and cut off his oxygen supply.

Draco Malfoy was laying on the bed, completely naked, his wrists tied over his head and attached to the posts. His legs were slightly opened and his pink cock was already becoming hard. The sheer lightness of his skin was sharply contrasting with the deep blue duvet, and Harry could feel his eyes drying out as he stood there, not blinking, with his mouth opened.

For his part, Malfoy was frozen too. He laid there with horror etched on his face and an angry blush rising up his neck. He closed his legs and began to pull back toward the headboard. He was yanking at his bindings with panic, his breathing quick and his body shaking. His movements were giving Harry motion sickness.

Harry suddenly remembered the name to Hermione’s sobriety charm and yanked his wand out of his jacket pocket. Malfoy gasped and curled in on himself, gripping his bindings and covering his head. Harry was horrified and a little sickened that Malfoy would think he would harm him, but considering the position they were in, he wasn’t surprised.

“Strigo Ebrietus,” Harry whispered. He cast a quick ‘relashio’ on Malfoy’s bonds as well, then sat down at the desk in the corner to let his head find its way back to his body. It felt safer keeping his hands over his face anyway.

“You know, Potter, the charm can be dangerous when you’re under the influence,” Malfoy’s gruff voice spoke after what felt like an eternity of heavy silence.

“I think the risk was necessary,” Harry said through his fingers.

“You back to it yet, or would you like some of my potion?” Malfoy asked, in a tone that could have almost been interpreted as friendly.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was to accept a potion from Draco Malfoy. “I’ll be fine in a few,” Harry answered, hoping it bought him more time to hide behind his hands. There was a rustle of clothing, and he felt much better knowing that Malfoy was covered up. He finally looked up.

The blonde was sitting on the edge of the bed, a robe over his shoulders, and his back turned to Harry. He had his arms crossed in front of him, but his back was straight. He looked both vulnerable and defiant in a single glance, and Harry felt completely and utterly lost. He looked down at his hands and tried to find his words.

“Listen, I’m sorry about this. I…um…my teammates thought…that is to say…” Harry sighed. “You can go ahead and go. I don’t want to keep you here.”

“I can’t,” Malfoy whispered, rubbing his wrist.

“I ummm…how much do I owe for the night? I can just pay and you can go,” Harry said, his shaking hands fishing around for his money.

“Your friends already paid for the night,” Malfoy explained, turning back toward Harry. His gray eyes were so bright in contrast with the dull light of the room that Harry felt himself mesmerized for a moment. “I’m just, well, I’m actually not allowed to leave until morning.”

“What!” Harry shouted, jumping out of his chair. “Who the fuck makes those rules?” Malfoy flinched slightly at Harry’s outburst and gave him a dirty look. Harry was suddenly embarrassed at the way his temper could be in nerve-wracking situations.

“It’s just a requirement of my contract,” Malfoy explained calmly, rubbing his wrist again.

“Do you need something for your wrist?” Harry asked, pulling the moleskin pouch from around his neck. “I think I have some murtlap in here.”

“No!” Malfoy yelled. “I’m fine, really, ” he said more quietly, standing up and putting his hand out to stop Harry.

Harry was close enough that he reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s wrist. There was a faint, green, glowing ringlet etched into his skin, and the flesh around it was angry and red. Malfoy hissed and pulled his hand away, but Harry grabbed it back and lifted it up to the light.

“This doesn’t look fine, ” Harry said, fearful at what Malfoy could be afflicted with.

“It’s all part of my contract,” Malfoy laughed bitterly. “Got to make sure I get the job done, after all, or I don’t earn my keep.” As if on cue, the object gave another painful jolt.

“That’s barbaric,” Harry growled, his face turning red.

“Could you maybe do something for me?” Malfoy asked, turning his head away from Harry’s gaze.

“Of course,” Harry whispered, rubbing his thumb over Malfoy’s heated flesh. The tenderness wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t want to let go.

“Can you say, ‘I’m satisfied’, and tap your wand?” he asked, turning away with a blush on his cheeks. “It just needs to be done every few hours.”

“I’m satisfied,” Harry croaked, and Malfoy let out a sigh of relief when Harry’s wand touched his skin.

Draco turned away and poured himself a drink. Harry didn’t even notice there was a bottle of champagne in that room, but the thought of being drunk again in such a tenuous situation sent him into a panic. Malfoy held the glass up to him, but Harry shook his head. The answering smirk sent a spark through Harry that nearly caught him off guard.

“Why would you allow someone to put that on you?” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. When Malfoy lifted his head up high, Harry felt a bit easier about his sudden outburst.

“I have debts to pay off. Pansy’s father graciously gave my mother a home after our assets were seized, and then he offered me a home,” Malfoy explained, so flippantly that Harry almost didn’t notice what he had said. “Oh fuck! Don’t tell anyone! If Pansy found out…”

“Jesus, Malfoy. I…I won’t,” Harry said. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he wanted to ask. But something about the look in Malfoy’s eyes kept his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Well…” Malfoy started, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“Since we’re both going to have to be here for a while, are you hungry?” Harry asked. When Malfoy shook his head lightly and took a sip from his glass, Harry reached for the stack of takeout menus on the nightstand.

“I’m partial to curry,” Malfoy said, sitting down close enough on the desk for Harry to smell him. He hoped Malfoy didn’t notice that Harry closed his eyes and breathed in slightly.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()



By the end of the meal, Harry had Draco laughing, a hearty, unassuming laugh that made Harry’s whole body feel warm. He regaled the other wizard with the less terrifying and dark memories of his adventures: Ron having a fit about the giant spiders, Hermione turning into a cat, and even Moaning Myrtle’s amorous attentions during the Triwizard Tournament. Seeing Malfoy smile so openly made Harry feel at ease and happier than he had been in ages. It was startling to realize.

“The girl had taste though,” Malfoy commented. “I would have liked to see Diggory in the altogether.”

“I wish I had known how hot he was, instead of stammering around him and being all weird,” Harry smirked, carefully avoiding the fact that he saw Cedric Diggory die.

“So, since you so generously offered to pay for my meal, I’m getting dessert, right?” Malfoy asked, his eyes glinting. Harry never thought anyone could best Ron at eating, but Malfoy was putting away food faster than it could appear on his plate.

“Where are you putting all of this food?” Harry asked, and Malfoy looked up from his fork. “And yes, of course we can have dessert.”

“I haven’t eaten recently,” Malfoy shrugged. Harry followed Malfoy’s wrists with his eyes, paying attention to the jutting bone there.

“Does Parkinson feed you at all?” Harry asked, a surprising growl in his voice. Malfoy sighed but didn’t look up.

“This is a job. I’m not a prisoner there. Food is not part of the contract,” Malfoy explained, still not meeting Harry’s eyes. “I just get a little preoccupied sometimes.”

Harry was desperate to dig deeper. There were too many questions: Why wasn’t he taking more care of himself? Where did he live? If he was so unhappy, why didn’t he just stop, but for all their fighting and anger, Harry Potter knew Draco Malfoy. The man he knew wanted no pity party, no well-meaning concern, and certainly no knight in shining armor. Harry wanted to make something better, to fix it in some way, but what was he even fixing? He settled on a strange chocolaty looking dessert, tapping his wand on the room service menu, and hoping for more happiness to waft off of Malfoy.

Dessert appeared instantly, and so did Malfoy’s grin. Harry had to admit, the chocolate lava cake was amazing, and he found himself agreeing with Malfoy’s happy sighs of pleasure. Harry felt like he was living some sort of alternate life, or maybe even dreaming. But when Malfoy’s tongue darted out to catch spare drip of chocolate and Harry felt his own tongue echo the movements, he knew he was, in fact, having a nightmare.

“So, Potter, what made your friends decide to buy you a whore?” Malfoy asked, so casually that he could have been discussing the weather. Harry flinched at the word. Malfoy noticed and his face pulled into an indifferent mask.

“I’m pretty sure my teammates got tired of taking the piss regarding my nonexistent sex life, and this is their idea of a victory gift,” Harry explained. “And Ron and Hermione didn’t say a damn word to me about it because they are worried that I’m lonely. Though I have no idea how-“ Harry put his foot in his mouth in the form of a big bite of chocolate sauce.

“How indeed,” Malfoy answered darkly. “After all, I’m just a disgusting, used, little piece of trash that isn’t worth of even being purchased by the boy who fucking lived.”

His voice wasn’t shaking, and he certainly wasn’t yelling, but the glib way that Malfoy said those words tore at something inside of Harry. “There’s nothing disgusting or unworthy about you,” Harry said, swallowing through a tightness in his throat.

“Forget I said anything,” Malfoy answered, getting up and walking over to the mints that were left on the tray. He popped one into his mouth and bit down so hard, Harry almost flinched again. He licked the shards of candy off of his lips and cradled his wrist.

“Let me fix that,” Harry said, getting up and reaching out toward Malfoy’s hand.

“I’m fine. I’ve had clients who let it go until I’m sobbing and begging. I can handle a little sting,” Malfoy said, using his good hand to grab another glass of wine.

“I’m satisfied,” Harry whispered, ghosting his hand over Draco’s wrist and letting his magic flow, wandlessly, into the offensive piece of jewelry. “I’d like to not cause you any pain if I can help it.”

“Why in the fucking world would you be lonely?” Malfoy asked suddenly. “You of all people? You have everything.”

Harry wanted to tell him how alone he really was. He wanted to tell Draco about all the lovers he had had that were just using him, of all the dates gone wrong because they expected him to be this pompous and conquering hero, and how little he trusted people he didn’t know. But every single solitary feeling of self-pity paled in comparison to just the look on Malfoy’s face when he thought Harry wasn’t looking.

“There’s…that is to say I…” Harry stumbled.

“You’re a hero, you’re famous, and you are bleeding gorgeous!” Malfoy said, sticking his finger through some spare chocolate on his plate. Harry was about to laugh off Malfoy’s statement, when he froze.

“Gorgeous?” Harry asked. He couldn’t help but smirk a little when Malfoy paused, with a look of horror on his face.

“That just slipped, I didn’t mean it,” Malfoy said, taking another drink of wine.

“Oh, well if you didn’t mean it, I guess we can just... What part of me is the gorgeousest?” Harry asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Certainly not your grammar,” Malfoy smiled. Harry walked by him to clear the plates, nudging the other wizard’s shoulder as he went.

“Are you still hungry?” Harry asked as he glanced at the room service menu.

“You’re also sickeningly nice. I thought that was a myth. I know that you stood up at my trial, and I appreciate it, but I didn’t think you were actually so…” Draco took a deep breath. “Kind.”

Harry looked up and met Draco’s conflicted eyes. There was something bubbling beneath them, a razor-like intensity that made Harry feel simultaneously small and immense in the same space. When Draco bit his lip and turned away, Harry had to stop himself from closing the gap between them and putting every single unsaid word between their lips.

“Malfoy, I-“ Harry was about to say something, though he was sure it would have come out like ‘please’ or ‘let me’, when he heard voices outside of his door.

“Listen, he’s probably sleeping it off. You know as well as I he sent the poor bloke home, got drunk, got angry, at a ton of food, and passed out,” Ron said, loud enough for the world to hear them, let alone Malfoy standing right beside him.

“I just feel terrible about this. I just want to check on him,” Hermione’s worried voice answered Ron.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and clenched his fists. He was humiliated as it was, by them buying him a rent boy, but to have them hovering outside of his room like worried parents was wearing thin on his patience. Suddenly, he yanked his shirt off.

“Potter? I thought you weren’t interested,” Draco said, sounding puzzled. Harry ignored him, walked over to the sink, and ran some water through his hair until he looked good and sweaty.

“I’m just going to go make our guests leave,” Harry smiled. Draco furrowed his brow for a moment, but when he heard Ron and Hermione start arguing again, he smirked and hid around the corner to listen to the show.

Harry yanked the door opened, but Ron and Hermione must not have noticed him. They continued to whisper loudly and through clenched teeth at each other until Harry cleared his throat. When Ron and Hermione looked over at him, Harry just grinned, flicking some sweat of his brow. “Do you guys mind keeping it down? I’m busy.”

“Harry?” Hermione said slowly.

“Are you coming, lover,” a deep, only slightly unfamiliar voice echoed from inside of the room. Hermione gasped, and Ron swore. Harry shut the door without as much as a goodbye.

When the footsteps died away, Harry fell to the bed, laughing so hard he thought he would cry. When he looked up, Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking, and his eyes absolutely dancing. Harry felt all the laughter being sucked out of him at the thought that Draco was so close to him on the bed.

“So, why aren’t you fucking me?” Draco said suddenly, running a finger along Harry’s exposed collarbone. If Harry had been drinking anything, he would have done a spit take. It was a lucky thing he wasn’t. Harry quickly leapt off of the bed.

“No!” Harry all but shouted; his heart racing. For a brief moment something akin to hurt flashed across Draco’s face, but the mask was soon back in place.

“Why?” Draco asked, his question revealing some earnestness that shocked Harry.

“I’m not going to…to fuck someone who doesn’t want to be with me. Who do you think that would make me?” Harry said, taking a few deep breaths and one carefully measured step toward Draco.

“Everyone else,” Draco said. “Why aren’t you like everyone else?”

“I can’t imagine there’s anything satisfying about being with someone who’d rather not be with you,” Harry mumbled. “Or who is with you for the wrong reasons.”

“You’re familiar with the feeling?” Draco asked, moving closer to Harry.

“You can imagine I tend to attract people who only want me for the name,” Harry said quietly.

“That’s not why I want you,” Draco was speaking so low, Harry was sure his ears were playing tricks on him.

“You don’t want me,” Harry stated.

“You can’t tell me what I want. You have no fucking idea what I want!” Draco shouted suddenly, the entire pretense of the moment seemed to fly out of the window.

“I know that if I have to pay you to sleep with me, then you certainly don’t want me,” Harry said, trying to sound forceful, but his voice shaking slightly.

“But you didn’t pay, did you? You’re such a fucking coward that you can’t even go out and pull on your own, so your friends bought you a whore,” Draco’s voice was low and dangerous.

That word dropped like a pin on the ground, ringing throughout the room: coward. Harry met Draco’s flinty eyes, cutting into him and edged with so much desperation that Harry ached to just ease an inch of it with his fingertips. His feet started moving toward Draco before his mind had even registered that he was rising to the challenge.

Harry took one clarifying breath and then dove in. He fisted his hand in the collar of Draco’s robes and pressed his lips against the other wizard’s like his life depended on it. He moved his lips in habit, but the rest of his body had frozen. He had to fight the urge to open his eyes. He felt a surging of disbelief, fear, and inexplicable joy of being pressed against Draco Malfoy that was threatening to turn his entire body into cement.

Harry braved opening one eye and attempted to relax his hands, but the moment he began to pull away, Draco’s arms snaked around his shoulders and pulled Harry hard against him. Draco’s eyes remained closed, and Harry stomach clenched at the notion that Draco might actually want him. When Draco’s tongue ran along Harry’s lips, Harry obliged and opened his mouth. The moan in the back of Draco’s throat made him weak to his knees. His cock twitched when Draco thrust his hips against Harry’s.

He kissed down the side of Draco’s neck, desperate to hear another moan, and was rewarded with a whimper as Draco’s fingertips dug deeper into his shoulders. Harry whispered ‘fuck’ against Draco’s skin before untying his robe and opening it up. He pushed Draco back against the wall with more force than he should have, but Draco only growled. Harry’s tongue laved a path down Draco’s chest, excited to taste more of his perfect flesh and watch his body quiver under his touch. However, when the light caught on the faded white scar going directly down the center, Harry gasped, straightened his spine, and stepped away.

“Jesus, Draco,” Harry said quietly, his face heating up. “I didn’t know what it did…I didn’t-“

“Shut up, Potter. It’s over. Kiss me again,” Draco commanded, stepping forward. There was so much desperation in his gaze, that Harry’s feet stayed stuck to the floor.

“How could you possibly want this, want me? How is this not just some…some…” Harry struggled with his words as Draco’s hurt became evident across his features.

“I want you. You’re the only person I’ve met in any situation in ages that I actually want. Don’t take this away from me. I just want the choice,” Draco pleaded, stepping closer and letting his robe fall to the floor. Harry was struck by the look on Draco’s face, the depth in his eyes, and the reality of his features. He could feel himself slipping.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry murmured. He dropped to his knees in front of Draco without another word and Draco just gasped and rolled his eyes back in his head before Harry’s mouth got anywhere near his erection.

“You can’t, I’m supposed to-“ Draco gasped, trying to back away.

“This is real for me. You said you wanted me. I want you,” Harry said softly. He took Draco’s throbbing cock into his mouth, and rolled his tongue gently over the head.

“Oh gods,” Draco mewled. His hips thrust into Harry’s mouth, so Harry pushed Draco back against the wall to hold him steady. “Fuck…Harry…I…”

Harry felt another jolt go through his body at the sound of his name on Draco’s lips. He spread his knees wider to try to find some relief for his aching cock and took Draco in as far as he could. When Draco hit the back of his throat, the blonde’s hands slammed against the wall and he let out a cry. Harry reveled in the taste of Draco’s hot flesh in his mouth, but fought against touching himself. He wanted the night to last.

He lifted his hands to Draco’s smooth, round cheeks. He pulled Draco deeper into his throat, proud at his acquired skill as Draco groaned and his legs began to quiver. Harry massaged Draco’s arse for a while until the skin felt warm and pliant under his touch. Then, he discreetly pressed a finger inside of his busy mouth and ran it along Draco’s cleft.

“Oh, Potter…oh, Harry…I don’t think….” Draco whined, his body trembling. Harry pressed his tongue into the slit of Draco’s leaking cock and circled his entrance with a slick finger. “Fuck.”

“Oh I want to,” Harry growled before swallowing Draco’s cock again.

“Shit! You better do it quickly then!” Draco cried, Harry’s finger slowly entering him. When Draco began to press back against Harry’s touch, Harry added another finger and Draco had to brace himself on Harry’s shoulders. He moved up and down on Harry’s fingers until he released a shaking sigh. “I won’t last much longer.”

Harry stood up and kissed Draco hard. Draco’s shaky hands fumbled with Harry’s trousers until finally they fell to the floor. Harry stepped out of his pants and back into Draco’s arms. They ground their bare erections together, and Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, overwhelmed by the perfect feeling of skin on skin. “Do you want to go over to the bed?” Draco said, so warmly that Harry could feel it radiate throughout his whole body.

“You need to know that I’m not doing this because of, in spite of, or in pity of your line of work. I only want you. Please, know that,” Harry pleaded.

“I do…I do…” Draco whispered, kissing Harry softly and guiding him toward the bed. He lay down on his back and Harry crawled up his body, nestling himself between Draco’s thighs.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Every part of you,” Harry said, kissing Draco and running his hand up the blond’s thigh. Draco wrapped his leg up around the other wizard and Harry poised himself at Draco’s entrance. He cast a quick lubricating charm with his free hand, thanking his lucky stars he was brilliant at wandless magic.

“I need you, Harry. I need this. I need something just to feel good again,” Draco said, his voice so raw that Harry had to kiss his throat to try to soothe something away.

“Anything, Draco,” Harry cried, finally entering the other man carefully. He was so hot, so tight, that Harry thought he was going to come immediately or weep, he couldn’t decide.

“So good, Harry. More,” Draco groaned.

The both cried out when Harry pulled back and thrust back in. He continued at a fast pace, moving in and out of Draco, his hand firmly griping Draco’s thigh while his other arm held his body up. Draco arched his back on every thrust, lifting his head to meet Harry in a messy kiss. Harry had never felt anything so incredible, and never wanted it to end.

He felt the heat coil in his stomach as Draco began to writhe beneath him. Harry gripped Draco’s cock and moved his fist up and down in tandem with his own movements. When Draco came, with Harry’s name falling from his lips and his body squeezing tightly around him, Harry couldn’t hold back any longer. He cried out Draco’s name, pressing his face into Draco’s shoulder as he emptied himself into the other wizard.


They lay there in silence for a moment before Harry grabbed his wand and muttered a cleaning spell. He rested his hand on Draco’s rising and falling chest, focusing on Draco’s breathing and trying to calm the bevy of questions and uncertainties threatening to overtake his mind. As an afterthought, he ran his wand over the metal cuff on Draco’s wrist and whispered, ‘I am satisfied’, before leaning back down and kissing Draco’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the bruises on his body again, some of them even more angry without the haze surrounding his mind.

“Who did this?” Harry asked, his voice catching in his throat and his finger trailed lightly over the purple marks on Draco’s skin.

“Clients of course. They get a little rough sometimes without meaning to. Sometimes they know who I am and they certainly mean to,” Draco said darkly. “The charms keep them from causing any lasting harm to me, but they are pretty welcome to hurt me. All part of working for Malcolm, I guess.”

Harry was once again speechless. He knew that Draco would respond to doting pity and promises of protection with derision and insult, but Harry ached for the other wizard to know just how much he cared…how much it mattered to him how Draco felt. He ran his lips over a bruise on Draco’s shoulder, a burn on his abdomen, and then to the finger shaped bruises on his hip. Draco sighed and ran his hand lightly through Harry’s hair. He hoped the message came across.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, bringing his lips back up along the blonde’s jaw. Draco opened his eyes slowly and gave Harry a contented smile that made his heart race. “Have dinner with me.”

“We already ate,” he answered, echoing Harry’s kisses with his own while running his hands up and down Harry’s bare back.

“How about on Friday?” Harry asked, burying his nose in soft skin of Draco’s neck.

“Malcolm charges an arm and a leg for all night affairs,” Draco murmured, pulling away from Harry. Harry could feel Draco’s body tense and tremble slightly. The other wizard cleared his throat and made to get up off of the bed.

“No,” Harry said, his voice deep and commanding. “I want to take you out as my date.”

“I believe I’ve driven you mad,” Draco said, though he was blushing and looking away.

“Possibly, but I spent too much of my life doing what I was supposed to do. It’s time I do something I want,” Harry said, placing his fingers on Draco’s chin and turning his face back toward him.

“I thought you just did,” Draco replied, arching an eyebrow.

“What I did tonight, that was the first page,” Harry whispered.

“If it’s a book, then I’m Dr. Faustus and you’re Mephistophilis,” Draco drawled. “Or maybe vice versa.”

“What?” Harry said, not sure of half of what Draco just uttered.

“You are cute when you’re confused though,” Draco smirked.

“You’re confusing, so I can promise to be infinitely cute,” Harry answered his smile.

“Okay,” Draco said, looking at his fingers. “But I still don’t quite understand why.”

“You don’t have to. Just do what you want to do,” Harry croaked, leaning in to kiss Draco softly on the mouth. Draco whimpered when Harry’s hands trailed up Draco’s bare thigh and his tongue swiped across the other wizard’s lips. They kissed slowly, savoring each other’s taste and touching every inch they could reach until finally neither wizard could keep their eyes open, Harry’s arm over Draco’s side, and Draco’s fingers intertwined with Harry’s.

()()()()()())

“So, Friday?” Harry asked nervously as he put his trousers back on.

“I’m beginning to think I’m actually looking forward to it,” Draco said, Harry threw his shirt at him. “I should keep this. You belong shirtless anyway.” Draco sauntered over and pressed Harry’s shirt back into his hand. A knock at the door made Harry nearly leap out of his skin.

“Harry, are you in there? Are you feeling well?” Hermione’s worried voice echoed through the door. Draco quickly transfigured the sheets into a shirt and a respectable pair of black trousers. Harry would have been impressed if he had time to be.

“I’ll hide in the loo,” Draco whispered, tiptoeing across the room.

“No!” Harry said firmly.

“What, mate? You’re not alright. Need me to break down the door?” Ron said, shaking at the handle.

“I’m fine! Give me a minute!” Harry shouted. Draco chuckled under his breath. “You’re coming out that door with me.”

“What? No! Your friends will kill me, and then have you committed!” Draco began to move away from Harry’s reach.

“Fuck them. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted you. I want to go out with you. I want to be with you,” Harry said fiercely.

Draco’s icy gray eyes met his and they locked each other’s gazes for a calculated moment before Draco cleared his throat and took Harry’s hand. They opened the door and stepped out, walking right in between Ron and Hermione. When Harry turned around, Ron had his brow furrowed and his fists clenched, and Hermione was gaping like a fish. Harry leaned in and kissed Draco softly, putting his hands on Draco’s face. The other wizard wrapped his arms around Harry and sighed.

“Friday?” Harry asked when they pulled back. Draco nodded. “Oh Ron! Hermione! How are you this morning?”

“What the fuck, mate?” Ron asked, Hermione continued to gape, not even admonishing Ron for his language.
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