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It's Raining Drarry

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Knock knock knock.

Draco jumped a little as the sudden loud noise from his front door punctuated the silence. Looking out of the living room window, he frowned - it was pitch black outside now and the rain was battering fiercely against the window pane. Glancing at his watch he realised to his surprise that it was almost midnight already. He’d been so engrossed in the book that he’d lost track of time.

Bang bang bang.

“Alright, I’m coming!” he shouted. Irritated by the late and unwelcome interruption to his peaceful night in, Draco tossed the book onto the coffee table and marched towards the front door. Who the devil was knocking at this time on such a ghastly night?

Draco threw open the door, ready to lambaste the late night visitor, but his slew of insults died on his lips and instead he gaped at the sight before him. There on his doorstep stood a very wet and very naked…

“Potter,” he choked. “What the hell?”

“D-Draco,” Harry stammered. His black hair was plastered against his shocked face, his bare skin slick with rain. Draco couldn’t help his eyes glance downwards and smothered laughter as he saw Harry desperately clinging to a potted pansy plant, the only thing protecting his modesty from Draco’s scrupulous gaze.

“S-sorry to interrupt you on a Saturday night,” he continued, his voice shaking in tandem with his shoulders. “But I’m in a b-bit of a rough spot. C-could you let me in, please? I’d like to get out of the rain.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?” asked Draco, still trying to process the bizarre yet amusing sight before him. “And where are your clothes?”

“I can explain,” he implored. “J-just let me in. Please, it’s f-freezing out here.”

Draco took a half-step back to let him in, then paused.

“Woah there,” Draco held out his hand and stopped Harry from crossing the threshold. “How do I know you’re the real Harry Potter?”

Harry gaped at him, “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he replied gravely, trying to suppress the wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’d do well to remember our Auror training, Potter - if that is your real name. Constant vigilance and all that jazz.”

Harry snarled, “Stop fucking about Malfoy and let me in!”

Draco chuckled. Since they’d become partners two years ago, the men had gradually struck up a tentative friendship. Over time they had become close enough that they were now on a first name basis, which privately delighted Draco to no end. But he noticed that Harry always reverted to calling him Malfoy whenever he was pissed off.

“In a minute,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, you have to see it from my perspective; you turn up on my doorstep in the middle of the night with no forewarning, naked for some reason - perhaps that’s just so I’ll let my guard down, hmm? What am I supposed to think? This could easily be a trap of some kind.”

He knew it was cruel doing this to Harry, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see the normally cool and composed Harry Potter so discombobulated. It helped that he wasn’t bad to look at, either. Of course, he’d stolen a few sly glances at Harry in the communal showers at work. He was surprised at how lithe his body was, a far cry from the scrawny, scrappy youth that had joined the Auror Academy. Tearing his eyes away from Harry’s bare chest he focused his gaze on Harry’s eyes, which were wide with alarm and anger.

“It’s all very suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?” he continued nonchalantly. Harry’s grip slipped on the plant pot and he stooped quickly to stop it from falling from his hands. Draco smiled serenely, “It would be foolish of me to just let you in without checking you are who you really say you are. You could be armed for all I know.”

“And where the fuck am I supposed to have hidden my wand?” Harry shouted. Draco’s gaze drifted towards Harry’s arse and his smirk broadened. Harry rolled his eyes and grimaced, “Very funny.”

Draco jokingly began to close the door on Harry, “If you’re not willing to answer the security question, then I’m afraid you’ll need to seek shelter elsewhere…”

“What? No!” Harry’s hand slammed against the door to prevent Draco from closing it further. “You can’t just leave me out here!”

“I’ll let you in, but only if you can answer my security question correctly,” he promised.

Harry gritted his teeth, “Fine, whatever. Ask your bloody question.”

“Let’s see...” Draco thought carefully for a few moments, enjoying watching Harry hopping on the spot from one bare foot to the other before asking. “Okay, where did we first meet?”

“Madam Malkins,” Harry answered immediately. “W-we were buying our school robes.”

Okay, so it definitely was Harry. But Draco wasn’t done torturing Harry yet.

“Hmm, that is true,” he replied slowly. “But I think it only prudent that you provide further evidence of your identity before I allow you to enter my home--”

“Malfoy!” groaned Harry.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just not convinced you’re really Harry Potter,” he continued lightly, ignoring Harry’s protests. “The real Harry would know well enough by now that I don’t just invite strangers into my home willy-nilly. Well, he would know that if he’d bothered to pay any attention.”

It was as much a challenge as a tease on Draco’s part; he was curious to see just how well they had really gotten to know each other since they’d began working together. Harry looked mutinous, and for a moment Draco thought that he might dump the flower pot over his head and go home on foot rather than endure another second of Draco’s provocations. But his shoulders sagged and he screwed up his face in concentration.

“Fine, let me think…” he sighed. His eyes lit up and he declared, “Your Patronus is a scorpion.”

Draco scoffed, “Anyone could know that! You’ll need to try harder than that, Potter - if that is your real name.”

Harry frowned, then said, “ hate the colour yellow because you think it looks horrible with your complexion.”

“Anyone who isn’t blind could tell you that,” Draco argued.

“And your favourite colour is red, not green,” Harry added smugly. Draco’s smile fell. He didn’t realise Harry knew that much about him. Harry continued.

“Uh, what else...your favourite dessert is apple crumble with custard. We take turns getting our coffees every day before heading into the office and your favourite drink is a mocha cheesecake coffee frappuccino. And you have a birthmark on your right hip.”

Draco frowned, “How do you know about my birthmark?”

Despite the cold, Harry’s face turned beetroot red.

“I dunno,” he muttered defensively, averting his gaze. “It’s communal showers in work, you know?”

“Okay,” said Draco slowly, not entirely convinced by that explanation. Harry continued to rhyme off what he knew about Draco.

“When you were young, you wanted to grow up to play Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps. Umm, what else? Oh yeah - when your mother writes to you, she calls you her ‘little dragon’--”

“Alright Potter, you’ve proved your point! Just keep your voice down, we don’t need the neighbours hearing that,” Draco hissed, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. He looked out into the stormy night, more fearful that someone might have overheard his mother’s nickname for him than to find a naked man on his doorstep. Feeling he had tortured Harry enough for one evening, he took a step back and beckoned him inside.

“Come on then, I suppose we better get you dried off,” he sighed. “I’d normally ask you to take your shoes off at the door, but obviously that won’t be necessary.”

Harry muttered ‘prick’ under his breath as he marched into the warm, dry cottage. Draco grinned, closing the door behind him.

It only took a few seconds to spell Harry dry, but he still shivered violently as he sat on Draco’s couch wrapped in several layers of clothing and blankets. Draco felt a slight pang of guilt; however amusing it had been to keep Harry lingering on the doorstep, he didn’t want to be responsible for making the man sick. He handed Harry a Pepper-Up Potion and a large cup of hot chocolate.

“The potion is just a precautionary measure,” he explained. “Don’t want you calling in sick next week, do we? I want every available opportunity to mock you when you come into the office on Monday morning.”

“Thanks,” said Harry quietly, downing the potion in two large gulps. A steady stream of steam began to emit from Harry’s ear and he took a sip of the hot chocolate, snuggling further into the quilt Draco had wrapped around him.

“However amusing as your interruption has been to my peaceful evening, are you going to tell me why you turned up at my doorstep naked, in the dead of night in the torrential rain?” asked Draco interestedly, sitting on the couch next to him. Harry took a protracted drink from his cup, avoiding Draco’s gaze. He looked glumly at his mug and shrugged.

“What’s to tell? It’s me we’re talking about, after all. A day doesn’t go by without something weird or humiliating happening to me,” he replied bitterly.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Draco agreed. “I used to think that you would deliberately get yourself into trouble just to draw attention to yourself. But since we started working together, I can’t deny that weird things seem to happen around you a lot.”

“Took you this long to notice that, eh?” said Harry wryly. They continued to chat for a while, mostly about work, but Draco knew they were dancing around the most interesting topic of discussion. Unable to resist any longer, he posed the question he had been burning to ask again.

“So, are we going to ignore the erumpent in the room or are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” he asked. “I’ll try not to laugh, but I’m making no promises.”

Harry’s expression turned sour. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, glowering into his cup as though it had caused him some offence. His evasiveness only served to pique Draco’s curiosity.

“Come on, spill the beans, Potter. What, did some girl kick you out of her house mid-coitus?” he teased. Harry drew him an indignant look.

“No, of course not!” he protested.

Draco hesitated for a moment before chancing, “ was a guy who kicked you out of bed, then?”

Harry’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, “Nobody kicked me out of their bed, Malfoy!”

“So, you took off your own clothes and Apparated here of your own accord?” he asked flatly. Harry groaned and clenched his eyes shut. He looked as though he were having some sort of internal struggle.

“I don’t know how it happened exactly,” he began. “I was at the pub with Ron and George...”

“Merlin, I should have known this would involve the Weasels,” Draco muttered. Harry ignored the jibe and continued.

“We were sitting in The Leaky having a few drinks, then George gave me the latest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ product - called it an early birthday present. I waited until I got home before I opened it, and…”

“And…” Draco persisted. Merlin, sometimes getting information from Harry was like trying to extract blood from a bowtruckle, especially when it was anything of a personal nature.

“Well, one minute I’m sitting in my living room and the next thing I know, I’m standing on your doorstep,” said Harry cryptically.

“Naked,” Draco pointed out. Harry grimaced.

“I should have known better, that it was a prank gift. I didn’t think George would pull a stunt like that on my birthday though, more fool me.”

“Well, what did he say the gift was supposed to do?” asked Draco. The suspense was killing him.

Harry looked pained as he admitted, “ was a Dreams Come True potion.”

Draco blinked, “A what?”

“George called it a Dreams Come True potion,” Harry explained. “He said it was like a super concentrated version of Felix Felicis; you drink the potion and ‘for one night only, live the life you’ve always imagined’. I thought I was going to turn into a Quidditch player or something. Well, either he was taking the piss or my potion was defective, because I ended up on your doorstep. I can assure you, I never in a million years imagined that happening to me.”

“Of course not,” Draco replied weakly. “Why on earth would you imagine something like that?”

Well, Harry might not have imagined it happening, but Draco certainly had. Not that he would have admitted that, of course. After years of conflict between the two men, they had finally managed to put their animosities aside and become friends. At first it was for the sake of their jobs, but over time, Draco had come to like Harry for who he was; still a heroic git who ran headfirst into trouble at the first opportunity, but he was smart, smart-mouthed with a wicked sense of humour (not too unlike himself, Draco thought). And despite (or perhaps because of) their differences, Draco believed he was a suitable counterbalance to Harry’s more impulsive notions; he had always been more careful and considered in his actions and it came in handy during fieldwork. Their chalk and cheese partnership worked well on the job, and naturally over time they’d grown closer to one another; when you’re working night and day with another person, it’s difficult not to.

Of course, when Draco first realised that he liked Harry as more than a friend, he’d put those feelings in a box and pushed them deep down inside of him, hoping that the passing crush would go away. Of course the feelings had persisted, but Draco knew better than to act upon them. He had finally gotten to a place where he and Harry not only tolerated one another, but were actually friends. He wasn’t going to put that in jeopardy just because he had gone and fallen for the Boy Who Lived. And if there was one thing that Malfoys excelled at, it was compartmentalising their emotions. There was little point pondering on things that could never be.

But then again, Harry had turned up on his doorstep (naked, he couldn’t help but remember gleefully) after taking this mysterious potion that purportedly ‘made your dreams come true’. Maybe the potion wasn’t defective after all. Maybe (Draco barely dared to let himself think it) they really wanted the same thing. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had presented itself to Draco, and he’d be a fool not to pursue it further...

Draco was snapped from his excited reverie as Harry sat his empty mug on the coffee table and rose to his feet.

“Leaving already?” he asked with a note of disappointment in his voice that he couldn’t disguise. Harry peeled off the cosy quilt cover and discarded it onto the couch. He looked awkward, reluctant to meet Draco’s gaze.

“Yeah, I should probably head home,” he muttered. “Thanks for the hot chocolate. And the clothes. I’ll get them washed and return them to you in the morning.”

“Oh, okay,” said Draco, then offered boldly. “You can stay the night, if you like. It’s awful late to be travelling. And the weather - do you really want to go back out in that weather?”

He felt as though his mouth were speaking independently from his brain. The rational part of his mind was screaming, What the hell are you doing? Other, less rational parts of his body were thinking, Why the hell not?

Harry paused, considering the request. He looked as though he might even agree to it, but then he shook his head.

“It’s probably not a good idea,” he replied, slowly edging towards the front door. “Besides, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Draco assured, walking him to the front door. “You didn’t interrupt anything, I was only reading my book.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Oh? What book are you reading?”

“Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science,” said Draco. He rolled his eyes at Harry’s lackadaisical expression, “I should have just said it was a book about Quidditch; surely that would have piqued your interests.”

He opened the door and the two men stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain pouring from the heavens.

“I quite like the rain,” said Draco thoughtfully. “I find the sound of it quite relaxing.”

“Not so relaxing when your standing out in it without any clothes on,” Harry mused. He gave Draco a shy smile, “Well...I’ll see you in the office, I suppose.”

Harry took a half-step out of the door, then paused when Draco spoke, “You know, I didn’t give you the chance to do a security check on me.”

Harry frowned at him, “I was the one who turned up at your door, Draco. I think it was reasonable to assume that you’d be the one to answer it.”

“Don’t assume anything, Potter,” he warned lightly. “The real Draco Malfoy could be bound and gagged upstairs at this very moment. For all you know, I could be an imposter.”

“To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have cared if a Blast-Ended Skrewt had answered the door. I just wanted to get out of the rain,” Harry admitted with a rueful smile.

“I guessed as much,” said Draco. “Go on then, ask me your security question. Better safe than sorry.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “You want me to ask you my security question as I’m leaving your house? Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

“Humour me,” Draco implored. He wanted to prove that he’d been as attentive to Harry’s habits and interests as much as he had been of Draco’s. Harry considered the strange request for a moment, then shrugged.

“Okay, what’s my Patronus?”

“Oh, give me some credit,” sneered Draco. “Everyone knows that!”

“I’m the one asking questions, Malfoy,” said Harry pointedly, crossing his arms. “If that is your real name.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Fine. It’s a stag. Ask me another question. A more difficult one this time.”

Harry sighed, “Alright. What was the first thing I said to you after we were made partners?”

Draco sniggered at the memory, “You said, ‘Don’t fuck this up for me, Malfoy’.”

“And what was the last thing I said to you before leaving the office today?”

“You said, ‘Piss off, Malfoy’,” he smirked.

Harry laughed, “Okay, let’s try a really tough you know what my Boggart is?”

“Trick question,” replied Draco smugly. “Most people assume that it’s The Dark Lord, but it’s actually a Dementor.”

“How do you know that?” asked Harry, sounding impressed. Draco shrugged.

“I’ve learned quite a lot about you in the last couple years. For example, I know that treacle tart is your favourite dessert. And even though you buy black coffee every morning to start your day, you really prefer tea. And everyone thinks your favourite colour is red, but it’s not; blue is your favourite colour.”

Harry eyes grew wider as Draco drew incrementally closer, continuing to rhyme off all the little things he knew and secretly loved about him; that whenever they’re on stakeouts together, Harry was prone to dozing off and he often talked in his sleep, sometimes in Parseltongue. That despite every terrifying thing that Harry had faced in life, he was inexplicably afraid of pigeons. That he was really quite embarrassed he had his own chocolate frog card. That any time they sit and do paperwork together, Harry always chews the end of his quills when he’s concentrating. All these perfect little imperfections that made Harry...Harry. Draco knew them all. He loomed over Harry now, tortuously close but still he resisted the temptation to kiss him. He had to be sure before he crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. Draco grazed his finger along Harry’s right hipbone and Harry’s breath hitched.

“And I know that you don’t have a birthmark here,” he said quietly, taking hold of Harry’s hip and pulling him a little closer. He placed the palm of his other hand over Harry’s heart, “But you do have a scar here.”

“How do you know that?” asked Harry breathlessly. His eyes were half-lidded, staring fixedly at Draco’s mouth. Draco shrugged.

“Communal showers,” he joked. Taking courage from the fact that Harry hadn’t yet pushed him away, he closed his eyes and pressed their lips together.

Just then lightning struck and both men broke the kiss, staring out at the rain in surprise as the darkness outside was momentarily illuminated in a blinding white light. Harry’s dreamy expression quickly morphed into one of horror and he stepped out into the rain.

“S-sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have done that. The potion must have made you..shit. I didn’t mean to...sorry.”

And with that, brave Harry James Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding world, turned tail and ran.

“Harry, wait!” Draco called, chasing Harry down the path. “Will you just stop and listen to me!”

But Harry was too quick for him. He pushed open the gate, crossing the Anti-Apparition wards and with another flash of lightning, he was gone.

“Bugger,” snarled Draco, kicking over one of his flower pots in frustration. He marched back into the house, already soaking wet from the rain. Slamming the door shut behind him he sighed and banged his head against the wall. The moment would have been perfect if the stupid lightning hadn’t interrupted them. Draco groaned. He shouldn’t have kissed him. He had allowed his feelings to overrule his logic. He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to look Harry in the eye when he went into the office on Monday morning. Would they just pretend it hadn’t happened, or would Harry take such offence at Draco’s actions that he’d ask to be reassigned to a new partner?

But then Harry had definitely started to kiss him back before the infernal lightning had interrupted their little moment in the rain. Yes, he had definitely kissed him back. The more Draco thought about it, the surer he was that Harry wanted this as much as he did. Harry however seemed to have convinced himself that the potion had altered Draco’s behaviour in some way. In hindsight, Draco supposed it was a good sign that Harry stopped things from progressing any further if he believed that was the case, although Draco knew perfectly well that the potion had nothing to do with his behaviour; he had spent many an hour imagining just that - what it would be like to kiss Harry. The potion had merely facilitated the circumstances to make it happen.

He considered sending Harry an owl or contacting him through the floo network, but thought better of it. He knew Harry well enough now that he had most likely locked his doors, switched off all of the lights and was currently hiding under a quilt, dying of embarrassment at what had just happened. It was best just to leave Harry alone for now.

Instead, Draco placed an order to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, paying a little extra for their next day delivery service and sent his brave eagle owl to storm the grim weather to collect his parcel. He watched the owl disappear into the rainclouds before heading to bed, too excited to sleep. He hoped his little plan would work.

Early next morning, a loud tapping on the bedroom window stirred Draco from his restless sleep. At the sight of his owl, he jumped excitedly out of bed and opened the window for her to enter. She hopped inside, a small parcel attached to her outstretched leg. Draco couldn’t help but notice that the bird looked a little worse for wear, her feathers ruffled by the high winds and heavy rain. It was still pouring down outside, but thankfully the thunder and lightning had finally desisted. He conjured a plate of game meat for the bird as reward for her quick delivery and hurried downstairs to open the parcel.

Sitting on the edge of the living room couch, he tore open the packaging and tipped the box sideways. A small glass vial and an instruction manual slid out of the box and into his outstretched hand. Opening the instruction manual first he read:

Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes Proudly Presents: Dreams Come True!

Always imagined what it would be like to be famous for a day? Want to know what it’s like to be rich beyond your wildest dreams? Ever wondered what it would be like to ride a Firebolt of your very own?

With Dreams Come True, you can! For one night only, live the life you’ve always imagined.

How to administer: Simply drink the contents of the vial, and for one day (approximately six hours) live the life you have always dreamed!

Disclaimer: Weasley Wizard Wheezes cannot be held legally accountable for any lawbreaking committed during the time the potion is in effect, or for disappointing dreams (that’s on you!)

Draco scrutinised the golden, sparkling liquid closely. He had a fairly good idea of what his dream come true would be, but he supposed there was only one way to be sure. Popping off the cork, he downed the sickly sweet contents in one large gulp and waited.

Nothing happened.

Draco frowned and read the instructions again, disappointment rising in him. Maybe Harry was right - maybe the potion was just a prank, after all.

Knock knock knock.

Draco yelped in surprise and he dropped the instructions onto the floor. He jumped to his feet, his heart pounding with excitement.

Bang bang bang.

Nearly tripping over his own feet as he sprinted towards the front door, he threw it open, grinning broadly at the sight before him. There on his doorstep stood a very wet and very naked…

“Potter,” he greeted him warmly. “Back so soon?”

“Malfoy!” shouted Harry angrily. This time he was using a branch to protect his modesty, only it wasn’t as effective as the pansy pot had been. Water was dripping from the end of his nose as the rain lashed down on his head. “For fuck sake, let me in!”

Draco grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

“I swear, I didn’t take the potion again,” Harry began, looking despondent. “After what happened last night, I wouldn’t dream of--”

Harry stopped speaking abruptly when he saw the empty vial that Draco held out to him. His eyes widened with shock as he looked from the vial to Draco.

“You took the potion this time?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yep,” smirked Draco, but his smile faltered when Harry glowered at him. Harry gripped Draco’s t-shirt and pushed him against the door, their faces inches apart. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a clever plan after all.

“You,” he snarled. “You wanted this to happen.”

“Maybe...yeah,” said Draco nervously. “Funny that, isn’t it? How we both want the same thing?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. Clearly Draco’s attempts at humour weren’t helping. He held his hands up defensively and conceded, “Okay, maybe I should have just sent you a message by floo network or owl.”

“You think?” snapped Harry. Draco winced at the anger in Harry’s voice.

“I just...I didn’t think you’d come back if I tried calling you,” he continued. “When you turned up last night, it was a shock, but not an entirely unpleasant surprise. Perhaps kissing you like I did was a little forward, but…” Draco sighed and forced himself to speak the next words, “While it pains me to admit it Potter, I’ve grown rather fond of you over the last couple of years. And I think you’ve grown rather fond of me, too. I wanted to show you that my actions last night weren’t the result of some enchantment; it was all me. I thought this way, you’d know that what happened last night wasn’t just what you wanted to happen; that if I took the potion too, you’d see that we both want the same thing. I realise now that this wasn’t the best way to go about it.”

Harry’s grip loosened a little on Draco’s t-shirt. Draco lowered his hands, certain that he’d really messed things up this time.

“Sometimes you’re such a dumb prick, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled, then before Draco could say that he wholeheartedly agreed with him on this point, Harry had kissed him. Draco’s lips were stiff with shock at what Harry had done, but as his shock subsided - that Harry was kissing, not punching him - he kissed back with equal enthusiasm.

It seemed the potion had worked just fine, after all.

Draco heard a rustle of leaves as Harry discarded the paltry branch on the floor and wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, pulling him closer. Draco groaned into the kiss, unable to believe his luck - perhaps there was a trace of Felix Felicis in the potion? They proceeded to stumble blindly down the corridor, clumsily trying to pull Draco’s clothes off, neither man willing to break the kiss. Draco’s t-shirt was quickly discarded and he counted his blessings that he’d worn sweatpants instead of his usual dress trousers; Harry easily pulled them down along with his boxers passed his lithe hips and they fell in a heap at his ankles. Draco’s erection sprang free and he thrust his hips forward, eliciting a shaky breath from Harry as their lengths brushed together. Draco felt a surge of arousal course through him at the sudden contact. He hastily kicked off the sweatpants and boxers caught around his ankles, desperate to feel more of Harry pressed against his bare skin.

He grunted in pain as his back bumped into the hall table, but taking advantage of its proximity he quickly spun Harry around and sat him atop the table. Clearly they weren’t going to be making it to the bedroom, they were both too caught up in the moment to move any further into the house. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist, pulling him closer, causing their erections to bump and slide together as they kissed, messy and frantic. Draco’s heart was beating so hard he felt light-headed, still half-afraid that Harry would come to his senses and run away again. But when Harry took Draco’s cock in hand and gave it an experimental squeeze, the last of Draco’s concerns fled along with any tangible thoughts.

Harry moved his hand deftly up and down Draco’s shaft to the same speed as his hand moved over his own. Desperate to touch Harry, Draco slipped his hand between Harry’s legs and began to gently caress his balls with his fingertips. Harry let out a low, guttural moan of pleasure and released his grip on his cock, inviting Draco to take over. Draco gladly obliged, taking his free hand and began pumping Harry’s cock with the same pressure and rhythm that Harry applied to his own. They were perfectly in sync with each other, mirroring each other in their movements so much that their thrusts, caresses, ragged breaths and moans were indistinguishable. They were like two jagged jigsaw pieces who ought not to fit in anywhere but seemed to slot perfectly with each other; it felt like the most natural thing in the world, instinctual.

Draco could feel his orgasm fast approaching as a tingling warmth began to spread from his groin outwards across his chest catching his breath, down his spine towards the tips of his toes. He began to rock his hips back and forth, heel to toe and back again into Harry’s tight fist. He wanted to make this moment last as long as he could, but he was already losing control, losing himself in a spiral of wet kisses, panting breaths and insurmountable pleasure. Without warning, Harry’s free hand pinched one of his nipples, and a sharp spark of pleasure shot through him at the sensation. Merlin, at this rate he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Draco increased his pace and Harry let out a shaky moan, his cock now rock hard in Draco’s fist. Draco knew it would only take a few strokes and Harry would be tumbling over the sweet edge of oblivion with him. He drew back enough to look into Harry’s eyes, so darkened with lust that they looked more black than green. They watched each other intently for a few moments as they continued to pump each others lengths, then Harry’s breath hitched and he made a high, desperate sound. He clenched his eyes shut and his head fell back as he began to thrust into Draco’s grip, come spilling over Draco’s hand and thigh. The mere sight of Harry coming pushed Draco over the edge and he came with a low groan, panting and shaking as he felt his own cock pulse in Harry’s hand.

Harry’s body went limp in Draco’s arms and he rested his head against Draco’s shoulder, breathing hard. Draco felt like someone had performed the Jelly-Leg Jinx on him, his limbs weak from exertion and post-orgasmic bliss. He slid his hands up Harry’s back and held him tight, trying to slow his breathing and regain his faculties.

Draco kissed his way down Harry’s jaw to the soft skin on his neck, breathing in his sweet, musky scent; his amortentia. So lost in the heady sensations of feeling Harry, kissing him, breathing him in, he would have gladly surrendered to it and stayed there forever.

“You’re still an absolute git for doing that to me,” Harry huffed out breathlessly.

“I know,” sighed Draco. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” said Harry accusingly, hopping off of the hall table. “First thing you can do is grab me another set of clothes.”

Draco smirked, “I have some in my bedroom. Come take your pick.”

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes, “Not a very subtle way of coaxing me into your bed, Draco.”

Draco scoffed, “Turning up naked on my doorstep two days running? Don’t talk to me about subtlety.”

He took Harry’s hand in his own and tugged him in the direction of the stairs towards the bedroom, but Harry didn’t budge. He gave Draco a serious look.

“Before we do anything else, let’s agree on one thing,” he said. “No more potions.”

“Alright,” Draco agreed. “No more potions.”

Harry nodded curtly and began to follow Draco upstairs, “Good. Next time I come here I’d like it to be of my own volition, preferably fully clothed - at least until I get through the front door.”

Draco’s smile broadened. So, there was definitely going to be a next time. It was more than he could have dreamed of. He hurried up the stairs, Harry following eagerly, both men ready for round two.

This really was living life as he had always imagined it.