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The Invisible Man

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Potter wasn't talking to him. Potter wasn't talking at all. Draco had imagined it. Surely. The toy was steadily sliding in and out of Potter, his skin pulled taut over muscles, his whole body shivering as it must have taken quite some effort not to move and give the unyielding toy room for error. Potter seemed completely focused on his pleasure. Any words Draco might have heard must have been a figment of his imagination.

Draco stood up anyway, as though hypnotised. No, he wasn't crazy. He had heard Potter speak. It would have been even crazier to ignore an invitation like that. And it was an invitation. A challenge, to be more precise. Draco had yet to refuse a challenge set by Potter; it went against everything he was.

Draco’s feet hit the sofa; he was so close, Potter’s thigh rubbed against his cloak. Potter’s shivering intensified. He spread his legs a little more, even closer to Draco’s cloak. He must have felt it; he must have rubbed against it on purpose.

Slowly, hand unsteady, Draco leaned in and placed his palm on the back of Potter’s thigh. Potter’s breath hitched. Draco slid his hand down over slick, hot skin, all the way to Potter’s arse. He could hardly believe he was doing it. Potter felt so real and alive under his touch. And so vulnerable with his shivers and moans. Draco's hand reached the place where the toy stretched Potter, insistently pushing in. He caressed the red, wrinkled skin of Potter’s entrance, dragging his fingertip around it, pretending he'd push it in, alongside the toy. Potter’s gasps sounded almost pained.

Draco licked his lips; his cock throbbed. He was in a sudden hurry to do something. To do it before Potter changed his mind and hexed him. He had never been faced with so many beautiful choices. He wanted it all. He wanted to take out the toy and replace it with his cock; he wanted to take Potter’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to come on Potter's face and smear his full lips.

He wanted to lick every scar on Potter's body. And there were quite a few. A long one on his thigh, a pale wide one on his stomach, a few tiny ones scattered all over. Some on his chest probably, too, but Draco couldn't see those thanks to the orange shirt Potter still wore. Was that why Potter didn't take it off? To hide even uglier scars? Draco had scars on his chest, too, the ones that Potter had made. He didn't like people looking at them, either, but he didn't earn them fighting evil. He earned them doing evil's bidding.

Draco shook off his thoughts and stared at Potter's cock. It turned out it wasn't such a hard choice after all. He hurried to take off his clothes. Potter's gaze followed Draco's cloak as it fell down to the floor. Draco frowned at it, expecting not to see it the way he couldn't see any part of his body or anything he had on him when he had turned invisible. But he saw what Potter was staring at. There was soot on his cloak. He didn't think of that; he had arrived at Three Broomsticks by Floo — the messiest way to travel. Potter must have seen it outline Draco's shoulders and back; he must have known exactly where Draco was at every moment.

Which meant Potter did all this on purpose. Put on a show. This turn of events required careful analysis of Potter's true motives and everything they implied.

But that would have to wait.

Draco was naked in seconds. Slowly, he reached for Potter's wand that lay on the sofa beside him. Potter froze, all pleasure apparently forgotten, his whole body on obvious full alert; his gaze was fixed on the wand that moved through the air.

Potter's wand was warm in Draco's hand; it didn't feel quite right, but it was good enough. Holding it felt wonderful, with Potter lying helpless before him. In that moment Draco was back in Hogwarts, back when defeating Potter was the only thought on his mind. It was tempting even now, after all these years, to cast a hex, take Potter's wand and leave him humiliated. Draco was so sure he had moved past that. That he knew himself better these days.

Potter's face was flushed, his eyes half-closed, his breathing shallow, lips full and parted. He wasn't afraid, Draco realised. And even if he was, it only served to arouse him further. That should have angered Draco. The fact that even now, standing there with Potter's own wand pointed at his face, he wasn't considered a threat. But all it did was make him feel safe. To think that somehow he had earned Potter's trust. All he could focus on now was never losing it.

Draco pointed the wand at himself and cast a few spells. They were stupid, uncomfortable spells, but he was in a hurry. They made him ready for Potter, loose and wet. They made him feel empty, eager to have Potter fill him up.

He grabbed Potter's ankle and forced him to lower his leg. Then he climbed onto the sofa to straddle Potter's waist.

Potter's body was rocking beneath him, the toy still working its magic. Potter's hands flew to Draco’s thighs, caressing them, squeezing; he looked fascinated. It must have been so strange for him — not seeing the person he was touching. Draco set the wand on Potter's stomach and reached behind to grip Potter’s cock. He slid the hot tip over the crease of his arse, giving himself time to calm and relax.

Potter's hands gripped Draco's thighs as Draco sank down. He did it too fast, too eagerly; the burn of being stretched made him close his eyes and clench. He heard himself moan, a long desperate sound interrupted by Potter's sudden upward twitch. Draco had no idea how he retained enough presence of mind to grab the wobbling wand before it rolled off to the floor. He still needed it. Potter's gaze followed the wand as Draco directed it in a random direction, concentrating hard on the thing he wanted charmed. Potter gasped, body jerking, knees bending, jolting Draco and making him jump. With another moan, Potter thrust upwards, slamming into Draco; the toy had sped up, controlled by Draco's charm, pushing deeper and setting their rhythm. Potter seemed enslaved by it, his cries speeding up with sharp jolts of his hips. Draco let the wand slide from his hand, let his body accept Potter's thrusts without resistance, let the force behind them sweep him away.

Warm fingers wrapped around his cock and tugged. Draco shuddered and came, his body seized in pleasurable spasms that had specks of light dancing in front of his eyes. Too dizzy to stay upright, he collapsed on top of Potter. He clenched hard around Potter's cock, involuntary at first, then deliberately after Potter moaned. He grabbed Potter's shoulders and lifted his head to stare at Potter's unfocused eyes. Potter's hips were still jerking beneath Draco. With praiseworthy effort, Draco yanked Potter's head closer by his hair and kissed him. It was rough, all tongue, with Draco mimicking the movements of the toy tirelessly pushing inside Potter. Potter's arms wrapped tight around Draco's back, holding him in an iron grip as he finally came, shuddering and moaning into Draco's mouth.

The kiss turned slow and lazy with Potter's tongue sliding against Draco's, making his head spin.

It was perfection. But then Potter wrenched away with a distressed whimper. His body was still squirming beneath Draco.

Draco couldn't help grinning. "You look like a man in urgent need for a charm to end," he said. He barely recognised his voice; it was deep and scratchy.

Potter's reply was caught between a laugh and a whimper. He was staring straight at Draco's eyes. Draco looked down and saw his hand on Potter's shoulder.

Right. Visible again.

For several horrifying seconds, Draco honestly expected Potter to throw him off with a cry of "Malfoy?" But Potter whimpered again, his eyes screwed shut, his hand on the floor, patting the carpet in a desperate search. "My wand," he gasped.

"Oh!" Draco quickly located the wand and picked it up. With a wave, he cancelled the charm that still had the toy thrusting mercilessly into Potter.

Potter gave a huge sigh. Then he cracked one eye open. "So," he said, smiling. "Hello?"

Draco had to laugh, even though a sudden nervousness had his stomach clenching. "Hello." He nodded. He had no idea what to say beyond that. But well, when in doubt... "It's a nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

"Marvellous," Potter said without missing a beat. "And more snow to come."

"I heard."

"Yes." Potter snorted. "Yes, you did."

Draco squirmed, stretching his legs and finding a more comfortable position. And avoiding eye contact for a few blessed moments; it helped him collect his thoughts. "So... you do this sort of thing with all your visitors?"

"Yes, it's pretty standard. Invisible men just pop out of cupboards and armchairs. Very convenient." Potter's hands were sliding over Draco's body, his arms, his back, his thighs, his arse. One of them stayed there, palm resting on Draco's arse cheek, warm and pleasant and promising. Potter only just saw him naked, Draco realised. "But they're usually harder to spot, I must say."

Draco scowled at Potter's grinning face. "I knew I hated the Floo network for a reason." It wasn't just that, though, obviously. "Weasley told you," he stated because that was the only logical explanation.

"He did, yes. He said there was an accident that turned you invisible, and he expected you to show up here to molest me."

Draco should have realised Weasley ran to alert Potter. He shook his head. "An accident, was it? That's what he said? He did this to me, you know. With his stupid beans."

Potter cocked his head; there was something softer in his gaze. "The courage beans?"

Oh shit. Why did he mention the beans? All it did was give Potter a humiliating look into Draco's head.

All good things must come to an end. He should have realised that, too. "I just remembered I have to go." Draco pushed away, intending to rise — and dress and then run really fast — but Potter moved so quickly he had no time to react. He found himself on his back with Potter staring down at him and his weight trapping him with no hope of escaping. Though, it felt too good for Draco to put much effort into struggling.

And Potter didn't look like someone who was about to mock him. "Personally, I found that wine works just as well for courage," Potter said.

It took Draco a minute to process that information. To imagine Potter devising a plan, calming himself through routine, shower and dinner, then drinking wine to make himself bold enough to strip and push a toy in his arse for Draco to see.

"Well —" Draco voice broke, and he had to try again. "I'm glad you finally did something about this crush of yours. Really, Potter, it was much too obvious. It was getting embarrassing."

Potter laughed, burying his head into Draco's neck, and Draco decided to forever pretend he was unaware of the fact that Weasley must have been filling Potter’s ears with tales of Draco's crush for months.

Potter ended his laugh with a kiss to Draco's throat. He raised his head and studied Draco's face.

"Why did the courage beans make you invisible?"

"According to Weasley, I can only be brave when no one sees me."

"That makes no sense."

"I'm actually brave, but no one sees it?" Draco suggested with a laugh, but the moment he said it he realised — it wasn't just that others couldn't see him; he couldn't see himself, either.

"I saw you," Potter said smugly.

"You only saw glimpse of me, and I looked like soot."

"Well, there's a philosophical question to ponder."

"No pondering," Draco said firmly. This was nothing he wanted to discuss in detail. "I'd rather know more about your Muggle toys."

"Now there's a brave statement if I ever heard one."

Draco frowned at Potter's wicked expression. "You just own the one, don't you?"

Potter nodded sadly. "Yeah, sorry."

"Well, luckily for you..." Draco rose up, forcing Potter to kneel up on the sofa. He found Potter's wand, pointed it at Potter's shirt and whispered a spell. "I happen to be an inventor." Potter looked curious and excited as his shirt split in two, slowly rising up, shrinking, crawling up Potter’s chest then down his arms to wrap around his wrists like two fancy orange shackles. With another whispered spell, Potter’s wrists slammed together, effectively trapped. "And you seem to be my inspiration." Draco tugged him closer by his tied wrists and erased Potter's grin with a kiss.


"Reducto!" Draco shot a spell at the life-size dummy dressed in Auror garb. It bounced harmlessly against the fabric. Draco beamed and added another tick on the clipboard with pride.

Considering he had done no work over the weekend, he was doing rather well. It was an inspiring weekend after all.

Draco didn't even go home; Potter didn't even remove the golden net surrounding his house. To say they spent the weekend shagging would be a needless exaggeration. They did plenty of other things. They watched tellee, and Potter prepared those strange Muggle meals, which tasted horrible but Draco ate them anyway.

They did most of these things naked, though.

They talked a lot, too. Or rather Draco asked a lot of questions, demanding the true story behind every scar. Potter was serious and truthful for once. Draco learned that Potter didn't earn his hand injury by trying to stop a Reductor curse with his hand. He was simply caught in the crossfire between a woman and her husband. He did manage to confiscate their wands one-armed before passing out from blood loss and pain. He was rescued by Weasley, who took him to St Mungo’s and arrested the quarrelling couple. “So in a way I did stop a Reductor curse with my hand. Just not on purpose,” he said.

He did shove the Probity Probe into trolls’ nostrils on purpose, though. “It's the only way I know how to stop a troll,” he assured.

Potter asked about Draco's scars, too. His lips trailing down Draco's chest, he said, "Tell me how you got those," as though he didn't know.

Draco had to think about his answer. “A snake threatened to kill my family," he had said. "I had to fight a lion to save them. The damn thing scratched me.”

“You didn't have to fight him," Potter said mildly. "And he didn’t scratch you on purpose. And I bet he’s really sorry he didn’t go for the Stunning hex.”

“I don’t think lions are interested in Stunning.”

“Are you sure it was a lion? Maybe it was a kitten." Potter blinked at him in an overly cute way. "One that didn’t even know which hex it was using.”

Draco considered this and nodded. “I was innocent, and you were a kitten. Sounds about right to me.”

“Agreed,” Potter had said, and they sealed the deal with a kiss and a shag.

Draco had been in a good mood ever since.

"Cauldron Cake?"

Draco dropped his quill. Ron Weasley stood beside him, grinning, a package of Cauldron Cakes in his hand. Draco had to give him points for stealth.

"It's just a peace offering," Weasley said. "They're safe, I promise. I mean, really, I wouldn't —"

Draco snatched a cake and ate it with two large bites. "Thank you, Weasley. That's very kind of you." He took the package from Weasley and set it on the table. "Leave it here. Oh and —" He handed Weasley the Foe-Glass. "All fixed." He grinned with as much smugness as he could possibly fit in his expression. And that was quite a lot, he'd been told.

Weasley stared at him. "You had sex. You actually had sex, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, we did. Many times. You were right. Potter can take a lot. And oh my, the things he can do with his tongue." Draco gasped a little.

Weasley frowned.

"And his stamina. Yes, right again."

Weasley stuffed the mirror in his pocket with a grimace.

"You should bring me sweets every day, I think," Draco concluded.

"You do realise this was my plan, right?" Weasley scratched the back of his head. "To get you two pining idiots together."

Draco snorted. "No, no, it wasn't. That's what Potter thinks. But I know your plan was to embarrass me in front of him."

"When did you ever need help with that?" Weasley looked genuinely confused.

"Oh, come off it. You're not convincing me. You hate me. I almost poisoned you."

"Yeah, but then you wrote those pretty letters, with curvy t's and a fancy seal, smelling of lilac." Weasley made a sad grimace. "I cried."

"My mother wrote those letters."

Weasley laughed. "Malfoy, everyone knows your mother wrote those letters." He rubbed his temples with an exaggerated sigh. "This is Hermione's fault. Being with her every day makes everyone else seem so slow."

"Weasley, stop trying. You're not convincing me —"

"Malfoy, you devised a potion that stuns trolls after Harry's run-in with them. You invented protective gloves after Harry injured his arm. You've been working on Auror protective gear every since Robards told Harry that if he keeps collecting scars, he'll end up looking like Mad-Eye Moody. So no, I don't hate you." The corners of Weasley's mouth turned downwards. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed. "I love you, mate." He threw himself on Draco and crushed him in a bear hug.

"Goddammit." Draco pushed him off in horror.

Weasley was laughing so hard it looked like he might choke. "I swear, you're the funniest person I've ever met," he said, fighting for breath.

"Go away!" Draco yelled, unsettled, not because of Weasley's ridiculous antics, but the frighteningly accurate things he had said about Draco's inventions. Draco was beginning to suspect Legilimency.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving!" Weasley held his hands up in surrender. "Don't eat those, though." He pointed at the cakes. "They'll turn your hair pink." With that, he hurried outside. "Careful with that tongue, mate," Draco heard him say in the corridor. "It does strange things to his brain."

Seconds later, Potter walked in. Draco was pleased to see his cheeks were pink. Weasley embarrassed everyone, apparently.

"You need new friends," Draco told Potter.

"Nah, I'll keep him." Potter walked over. "I think I'm keeping you, too. I get attached easily, you see." His green eyes were twinkling. Draco looked away, afraid he'd end up smiling stupidly at Potter.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked. "Is that the new protective gear? To go with the gloves?"

Draco gave a jerky nod. "It's harder. The gloves were small. For this, I had to charm a number of smaller pieces and then sew them together."

"You can sew? Can you cook? Can you clean?"

Draco turned to glare at Potter, but it was difficult. Potter was close, leaning in with his full, smiling lips, as though he might kiss Draco at any moment.

"Are you looking for a housemaid?" Draco asked.

"Do you have a housemaid outfit? If yes, I'm definitely looking for a housemaid. It would go so well with your pink hair."

"Oh, for the love of —" Draco checked his hair, and sure enough it was pink.

"I think it's rather fetching," Potter said, then after Draco's glare, added, "It'll wear off in an hour. I swear. Personal experience."

That didn't make Draco feel much better.

"Here," Potter said, took one of the Cauldron Cakes from the table and ate it. "We'll be pink together."

Draco had to smile at that. They would look like a pair of idiots. He shook his head. "Sorry. I think I lost my sense of humour somewhere along the line."

"I think you're pretty funny." Potter pulled him closer. His mouth twitched. "Especially with pink hair." He leaned in, in obvious attempt to kiss him.

Draco placed two fingers on his lips and held him back. "Before we get funny again, there's something I need you to promise," he said because all his secrets were out in the open anyway.

"Er, all right."

"When I finish this gear, you'll be my test subject, and you'll wear it every day."

Potter smiled, kissing Draco's fingertips. "Promise."

"Because I don't want you to look like Mad-Eye Moody."


"It would kill my sense of humour completely."

"And we don't want that."

"No, we don't."

Potter nodded. "Can I shag you now?"



Draco swung Potter around, slammed him against the wall and kissed him.