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How Things Have Changed

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"Mr. Weasley, how many people will be in there?" Harry asked before he opened the doors to a courtroom that was awaiting his presence.

"I'm not sure, Harry, I'm truly sorry," Mr. Weasley replied apologetically. "I cannot go in there. I'm not allowed. Will you be all right in there on your own?" Harry shrugged.

"I'll make do. Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Of course, Harry. And remember; You have nothing to be afraid of. You did nothing wrong. You protected yourself and your cousin from a Dementor." Harry nodded uneasily and Mr. Weasley clapped his shoulder before straightening up again. "Well, good. You'll be fine. This is all just procedure." With that, he swept away down the hallway that they had just come from. Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the doors to see what seemed like a full Wizengamot. He sat down in the thronelike seat several feet below the Judge's desk(which was really just where Cornelius Fudge was sitting, clearly trying to attempt the holier-than-thou and the high-and-mighty looks and failing miserably).

After what felt like hours of annoyingly grueling accusations and questions, Harry left the courtroom without so much as a slap on the wrist. Mrs. Figg was truly a saint in his eyes, now. He had attempted and failed to gain Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's attention, but the old Professor clearly had no cravings for small talk with a student, as he had ignored Harry's calls.

~~~

"Wait, I've seen her before," Harry interrupted his friends at the Hogwarts Feast that began the new school term. He pointed his finger at a toadlike woman sitting at the staff table where Alastor Moody - Barty Crouch, Jr. dressed as Alastor Moody, actually - sat the year before. The new Dark Arts Professor was wearing a sickening amount of pink. Her makeup was all bright pink, her outfit, shoes, bow, and all. It made Harry's eyes hurt at the brightness. "She was at my trial."

"Is she the new Professor?" Ron asked after swallowing a mouthful of chicken leg.

"Seems like it," Harry whispered back.

"No, no, this is bad," Hermione said worriedly.

"Why?" Ron asked her. "What does it mean?"

"It means the Ministry's interfering with Hogwarts."

Harry looked up at the feeling of someone’s eyes on him. He immediately locked his eyes with a pair of glittering silver ones across the Hall.

Malfoy stared at him intently. Not necessarily maliciously, but intently. Harry blinked. Malfoy blinked back and sent him an annoyingly flashy smirk that did odd things to Harry’s stomach. He rolled his eyes and looked away, deciding to focus on the shininess of the House point system, his appetite forgotten for the afternoon. A piece of parchment and a quill appeared in front of him. Harry looked at Malfoy again, eyebrow raised. Malfoy scribbled something on a parchment by him, and the words appeared on Harry's paper.

Talk to me, they read in elegant, slightly slanted, swoopy handwriting. They disappeared when Harry finished reading them.

Why should I? Harry scribbled back, his messy handwriting looking like chicken scratch compared to Malfoy's.

I'm bored. Harry rolled his eyes again. He looked up from the parchment at Malfoy, who was staring at him with glazed over eyes.

No. We're not friends, Malfoy.

And who's fault is that? the elegant handwriting accused. Harry bit his cheek.

“Poncy git,” Harry muttered to himself. He scowled at Malfoy and flipped him an annoyed finger one last time before he set the parchment under his untouched plate.

Later, Professor Dumbledore announced that it would be in House Unity’s best interest if the four Houses were intermingled. Each house would send a fourth of their own to the other three. A fourth of the Gryffindors would be in Slytherin, a fourth in Hufflepuff, and a fourth in Ravenclaw. And one fourth would stay in Gryffindor Tower. And so on.

Dumbledore interrupted the students’ chatter after a moment. “You are also urged to sit at your alternative House table for the allotted time you are there, but not required.”

Harry thought nothing of it when he heard shuffling footsteps in the Hall. But he startled when someone yanked his arm up and pulled him out of the Great Hall.

“Malfoy! What the hell are you—”

“I get to decide when we're done speaking, Potter,” the boy growled. “Don't try to get away from me.”

Malfoy stood about two inches taller than Harry, and Harry was at even more of a disadvantage because he was now pinned up against a wall. Malfoy cast a Notice-Me-Not charm around them. Harry froze when he realized the placement of Malfoy's hands. One of them was planted flat on the wall by Harry's head, and the other was lying against his stomach, only the thin fabric of Harry's oversized shirt separating their skin.

“What did you overreact for?!” Harry hissed. “Back off, let me go!” He tried to shove Malfoy away, but the Slytherin just stared down at him intimidatingly with glazed eyes and refused to budge. “Malfoy, bugger off!” Harry pushed on Malfoy's chest halfheartedly.

Instead, Malfoy just leaned forward and rested his face in Harry's neck. Harry paused moving, confused, and, to his horror, a little turned on. Soft lips brushed against his throat and started moving up. Not kissing, but just ghosting over Harry's neck and jaw. He shuddered. Soon, he and Malfoy had their cheeks pressed flat against each other’s. Harry could feel Malfoy's breathing on his ear.

He jumped when he felt a tongue snake over his earlobe. “What are y—ohhh…” He lost his words when Malfoy bit his ear. Harry tangled his fingers in Malfoy's shirt tightly and leaned his head against the wall.

“I knew that you would make a noise, Potter,” Malfoy whispered, his voice thick. “Do it again.” He moved to Harry's neck and bit lightly on a bit of skin. Harry sucked in a breath and held it, not wanting to give Malfoy what he wanted. He failed when Malfoy slid his hand under his shirt and started teasing the lines on his stomach. He let out a shuddering gasp and tried to jerk backwards but just slammed his back into the stone wall instead. Malfoy bit down harder and Harry clapped a hand to his mouth to stop from crying out in shock. He tried to shove Malfoy away again, this time harshly, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the stone wall next to his face.

“Malfoy, let me go!” Harry hissed. The blond tilted his head up to whisper in Harry's ear.

“Do you really want that, Potter?” he purred, almost seductively. He ghosted his fingertips across Harry's abdomen again. Harry tensed his stomach and tried wriggling out of Malfoy's grip.

You—”

Malfoy's hand moved from Harry's chest to his hip and gripped his side tightly. His slim fingers poked just barely under Harry's jeans and dug into the skin right above his arse.

“Do you really?” Malfoy asked quietly, moving to nip some more at Harry's jaw and neck. Harry's previously clenched fists loosened and he felt his face heat and heart beat faster. Malfoy stuck his tongue in the small dip of Harry's collarbone before sucking on it lightly. Harry felt himself start to get traitorously hard and he tried to move away again.

“Ah—Malfoy, please—”

“Please what, Potter?” Harry shuddered. “Say it.”

“L-let me go back!”

He whimpered when Malfoy placed open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw. Harry moaned softly and grabbed the back of Malfoy's silky blond hair and yanked his mouth away from the hollow of his neck. Malfoy was smirking but there was a high flush on his usually pale cheeks, tinting them an attractive rosey colour. Harry gulped.

“Damn it.” He pulled Malfoy’s face down and kissed him. Malfoy tugged Harry’s hips flush to his own and dug the pads of his fingers into Harry’s tender skin. He bit at Harry’s lower lip and pulled on it lightly, and delved his tongue into Harry’s mouth. His tongue easily wrestled Harry’s into submission but Harry didn’t care because he was snogging Draco Malfoy, his self-proclaimed school enemy, the son of a Death Eater, a prejudiced arse, and a lot of other things. And Harry liked it. He was enjoying kissing Malfoy.

He let his head fall back against the stone wall when Malfoy moved his head down and started sucking at the expanse of Harry’s neck and collarbone again. “Mmh—ah—Malfoy—why are you—doing this?” he gasped.

“Because,” the other boy murmured into Harry’s skin, “I want to. You fucking wore low-hanging pants that tease the eyes with your hips and stomach. What did you expect to happen in a school full of horny teenagers when you go around looking like you’re just begging to be fucked over the nearest surface?” Harry couldn’t hold back a moan at this admission. “And then your shirt that shows off your collarbone and shoulder. Even your eyes… your jaw… your mouth… your arse all on display. You go around in obliviousness looking like sex on legs and then act scandalized when someone pushes you against a wall and kisses you.”

Harry froze when people started leaving the Great Hall and passed them.

“He didn’t come back to the table,” he heard Hermione say worriedly. “He left with Malfoy, for some reason.”

“Yeah,” Ron’s voice replied. “Best check the Hospital Wing first.” Malfoy chuckled lowly against Harry’s collarbone.

“That’s not where we are,” he singsonged in amusement. His hands fell lower and subconsciously landed on the curve of Harry’s arse, but Malfoy didn’t make an effort to move them. He instead dropped to his knees and lifted Harry’s shirt up off his stomach with one hand. Harry’s breath hitched. Malfoy stuck his tongue in Harry’s naval and Harry whined lowly. The blond sucked on the skin on Harry’s stomach, biting it and laving over it where he thought it appropriate. Harry grit his teeth because he was so obviously hard from Malfoy and now he wouldn't be able to think of anyone except Malfoy while pulling himself off after what was happening with his bloody tongue. Harry moaned in a high pitch, almost girlish tone. He involuntarily arched toward Malfoy.

“Be patient, Potter,” Malfoy hummed against Harry’s exposed hip. “I’ll get to your little problem in a minute.” Harry’s eyes widened and he looked down at Malfoy in shock. Silver eyes flitted to his and Malfoy smirked up at him. “Unless, of course, you don’t want me to.”

“I—I didn't say that,” Harry said with a squeak. “I’ve never…”

“Harry ‘Sex on Legs’ Potter has never had a blowjob before?” Malfoy asked in surprise. Harry shook his head and blushed at the silly nickname. “You’ll like it.” He ran a teasing hand up the outside of Harry’s thigh and then the inside of it. Harry shivered at the feather-light touch. Malfoy mouthed down to the waistband of Harry’s jeans and looked up once more for a hint of resistance. Harry just swallowed heavily and stared back with half-lidded eyes. Malfoy returned his gaze to the tent in Harry’s trousers. His lips ghosted over the shaft of Harry’s erection. Harry gasped. Malfoy smirked up at him. “You’re so innocent, Potter.” Harry felt his cheeks burn and he averted his gaze.

“Why aren’t you?” he whispered in response. Malfoy just hummed happily and pressed his tongue flat against the outline of Harry’s cock. Harry jerked in shock and whined.

Malfoy,” he groaned.

“Good things come to those who wait, Potter,” Malfoy reminded him. He unbuttoned and unzipped Harry’s jeans, pulling them down to his knees.

Nothing happened for a moment, Malfoy just sat on the ground and stared at Harry’s cock with an unidentifiable expression on his face. Then the blond took it in hand and licked a wet stripe along the underside. Harry whimpered and Malfoy looked up at him. He opened his mouth and sucked the tip into it. Harry made a choked sound in the back of his throat and thrust his hips involuntarily, seeking more warmth and friction. Malfoy placed a free hand on his hip and held Harry in place as he took more of Harry into his mouth.

There was one thing that was clear not too far into Harry’s first ever blowjob, and it was that Malfoy was fucking brilliant at it. Harry tightened the hand he had in Malfoy’s hair and moaned. “Fuck, Malfoy, your mouth…” Malfoy pulled off and tongued at Harry’s slit. “Why are you so good at this?” Harry asked shakily.

“Let’s just say… I know I’m attractive and I know other people find me attractive—” He ran his tongue along the side of Harry’s cock. “—I’m not an innocent Gryffindor. Like yourself.” Harry groaned. “Hm. That being said—” Malfoy took him halfway down before coming back up again. “—There’s no reciprocation required… this time.”

This time?” Harry asked, aghast. He didn’t get to say anything else, because Malfoy slid his mouth down and up Harry’s length again like a damned god. “Fuuu—nngh—”

Malfoy made a pleased hum around Harry and Harry felt his tip vibrate with the back of Malfoy’s throat. He groaned. “Malfoy, Draco, shit—I’m so close…” Malfoy, the git, just sucked harder until Harry’s eyes rolled back and his hips jerked again, his cock spilling its release into Malfoy’s mouth.

Malfoy pulled off and wiped his swollen lips before leaning back on his heels and standing up, pulling Harry’s trousers back up over his hips with a smirk. Harry’s eyes widened when he realized that Malfoy must have swallowed his come and felt his face heat intensely.

“I’m not that innocent,” he mumbled halfheartedly, catching his breath. Malfoy rose an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Getting yourself off doesn’t count, Potter.”

Harry shook his head and took a step toward the Slytherin. “Just because I’d never gotten a blowjob, that doesn’t mean I’ve never done anything else.”

“Oh?” Malfoy leaned forward expectantly, his face only inches away from Harry’s. “What have you done, then?” Harry tugged Malfoy closer again by a belt loop in his trousers.

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, though.” He unbuttoned Malfoy’s trousers and shoved his hand down them. He wrapped his fingers around Malfoy’s hard length, causing the blond to let out a strangled gasp. “For claiming to be experienced, you sure are sensitive.” He started stroking the soft foreskin and teased the ridge of Malfoy’s cock wickedly.

“Ah—Po—Pot—ah, fuck.” Malfoy wound his slim fingers in Harry’s hair and crashed their mouths together. Harry cupped the back of Malfoy’s neck and pried the soft pink lips apart with his tongue. Malfoy moaned softly and bit Harry’s lower lip.

“The charms…” he managed between kisses and gasps, “they’re not up anymore.” Harry hummed curiously.

“Then be quiet,” he dismissed easily.

It only took a few more firm strokes until Malfoy was coming in his pants and all over Harry’s hand while biting Harry’s lip. Harry pointed his wand at the mess, murmured a cleaning charm, and the evidence on his hand and in Malfoy’s pants disappeared without a trace. They stood just centimeters apart, catching their breath, and Harry finally regained enough sense to back away a few steps.

“I need to go,” he murmured quietly. “See you around.” He walked back toward Gryffindor Tower, where his things were thankfully still packed, very aware that there were probably bright red marks on his neck. He pulled the collar of his shirt up and wore a blush all the way back to the common room.

Once in his dorm, Harry changed and threw a warm red hoodie on because the hood would conceal his neck and dragged his trunk down to the Dungeons where McGonagall’s blasted slip of paper told him to go. Ron got to stay in Gryffindor Tower, the lucky bastard, and Hermione was going to Ravenclaw. At least Dean could suffer along with Harry in the Slytherin rooms for three months.

Chapter Text

Everything was fine until Potions. It was a Friday and so it was Double Potions class, and that meant Harry had to deal with Snape’s aggravating drawl and insults for twice as long.

It also meant he was in a stuffy dungeon classroom with a lot of steam and no windows. He was dying from the heat. He wanted desperately to take his sweater off, but that would attract unwanted attention and raise unwanted questions. So he kept it on. That is, until someone’s strikingly familiar voice told him to meet them outside. Harry was compelled to do so if only to get a moment’s peace from Snape. He slipped out of the room when Snape had his back turned to the class.

He was promptly shoved against the wall again. “Unh—you could just tell me to follow you somewhere, I don’t like being shoved against walls.” Malfoy was instantly pulling his hood down and mouthing at his neck.

“I like shoving you against walls,” the blond said definitively. “Deal with it. Maybe I’ll shove your chest against it instead of your back and have my way with your pretty little arse.” Harry couldn’t hold back a groan at that. He felt himself already becoming hard as Malfoy reached in his robes and grabbed his aforementioned arse, kneading it none too kindly. “I bet you’d like that, Potter,” Malfoy growled. “To take all of me.” Harry bit his lip. “Has anybody done it, Potter? Taken your actual innocence?” Malfoy nipped at Harry’s earlobe. “Have you ever been so sore from someone in between your legs and inside your body that it hurts to stand?” He stepped forward so their hips were flush together and Harry felt the bulge in Malfoy’s trousers against his hip. He shook his head. “Nobody’s snatched your virginity away yet?” Harry shook his head again. “Don’t let them.” He ground his hips against Harry’s and they both moaned softly. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Harry answered quietly, nodding. Malfoy grabbed both of Harry’s wrists and held them bent behind his back. He leaned down and sucked Harry’s lower lip into his mouth. Harry whimpered and felt Malfoy’s hands tighten on his wrists. Malfoy shifted Harry’s hands so that they were held in one of his own and brought the other, now free hand up to frame Harry’s jaw. Harry felt himself leaning into it and realized that there weren’t any intense feelings anymore. Malfoy was being surprisingly gentle and he wasn’t demanding anything. Even his hand had loosened on Harry’s wrists. Harry opened his mouth slightly and instead of letting Malfoy be weird and suck on his lower lip, he kissed him. It seemed like a promise of something more than sex, but Harry didn’t know what.

The bell rang and Harry almost didn’t register it, but Malfoy backed off and pulled Harry’s hood back up before running off.

“Wait—” Harry sighed. “We need to talk,” he finished in a whisper, talking to the empty space in front of him. He picked up his bag that had fallen onto the ground and walked towards the Great Hall for supper, still uncomfortably hard.

He poked at his food, not paying attention to the conversation going on next to him. He risked a glance up at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was sitting. He met softened grey eyes and a small smile quirked at one corner of Malfoy’s pink mouth. Harry blushed at the sudden gesture and offered a hesitant grin in reply. Malfoy turned to Pansy Parkinson but still watched Harry out of the corner of his eyes.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice broke Harry out of his daze. He looked at her.

“Hm.”

“Are you all right? Wait, what is—” She went to pull his hood down and he jerked in surprise.

“No!” She drew back in shock. Harry realized that the whole Gryffindor table was now looking at them in curiosity. Harry shrunk in his seat and used the drawstrings to close his hood more. His eyes met Malfoy’s again, who was laughing at his sudden outburst. Harry glared at him.

“Harry…” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “Are there hickeys on your neck?” Harry felt his face get red in embarrassment. He placed his face in his hands. “Are you seeing someone?”

“I—no, it’s not like that,” he replied, thoroughly embarrassed.

“Are you guys having—”

“No. No. It’s just… snogging.” He looked up at Malfoy again, but the blond wasn’t looking at him anymore. Harry felt a disappointed frown tug at his lips.

“And mauling of necks, apparently,” Hermione sighed. “Look. I don’t want to barge in on your possible relationship or sex arrangement, whatever you’re going to call it, but I want to make sure that you know they’re not going to hurt you… Physically or emotionally.”

“I don’t think they will,” Harry answered. “I appreciate your concern, Hermione.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since the start of term.”

“Is it—oh, Harry. Are you doing this with Malfoy?”

Hermione,” he whined.

“Wow. All right. Um, I…” She sighed again. “I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t want to be that friend that controls your life, but please hear what I’m saying.” Harry nodded. “Whatever you do, be one hundred percent sure that you’re going to be safe. And that if he wants you to do something you’re not comfortable with, leave. Get out of there as fast as you can.”

“He’s been really… I don’t know how to explain it… the opposite of what he usually is. Just treating me like I will break if he’s too rough.”

“Do you like him?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve always had this weird… feeling, just a little question of whether I made the right choice in being a prick to him in first year. I know he treats us like shit, but I’ve seen how much he cares about his friends. And he’s not… unattractive.” He’s really fucking hot, in other words.

“Well, to each their own, Harry,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “Just be careful. Especially with him.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Chapter Text

Harry was fucked. Absolutely and utterly fucked. He still had no idea what he and Draco were doing since it wasn’t dating and they weren’t fucking, but he’d seen a softer side to the Ice Prince. Like for instance, Draco wouldn’t go any further than blowjobs as much as he obviously wanted to. So he did have standards. And Harry was starting to really like him.

He was currently pushed up against a huge oak tree, one leg hooked around Draco’s hips and the other standing on its tiptoes as Draco snogged him senseless. Harry’s hands were threaded in the soft platinum blond hair and Draco had his arms wrapped around Harry’s lower back. They had snuck away from the rest of their Magical Creatures class. But Harry was done with being confused. He pulled lightly on Draco’s hair and they separated their mouths.

“Malfoy, what are we doing?” Harry asked breathlessly. “What is this?”

“We’re snogging, Potter,” Draco replied. Harry shook his head and turned his face when Draco leaned in to kiss him again.

“I mean what’s happening between us? You won’t go past blowjobs, so we can’t say that we’re fucking with no strings attached, and we’re not dating because we’d actually have to go on a date to say that.” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just ask me out on a date, Potter?” he asked. Harry blushed. That wasn’t what he meant… He opened his mouth to say as much but Draco beat him to it. “Because I can’t. I can’t be seen going out with someone. Especially a boy. Especially you. My father would kill you and probably lock me up in my bedroom until he could marry me off. To a witch. With pure blood and money.”

“I didn’t mean that we should go out I just said that in a weird way,” Harry clarified with a small pang of disappointment. Draco hummed.

“Well…” He nuzzled Harry’s neck and smirked. “Would you like me to fuck you? Because that can be arranged. I could fuck you so hard, I could do it right here, right now, that you won’t be able to stand. I’d have to carry you back.” Harry whined in response. “I should. Fuck, Potter. I’d love to see you take it right now.” He rocked his hips into Harry’s and Harry moaned. Draco bit his neck lightly. “You’d have to be quiet. We don’t want people to hear and walk up on us, now, would we?”

“N—no,” Harry gasped. “We wouldn’t.” Draco moved his hands down to Harry’s arse and squeezed it tightly. Harry let his head fall back against the tree and bit his lip to quiet his moan.

“You like it when I do that,” Draco observed. “Why?”

“I d—” Draco squeezed again and Harry whimpered. “I don’t know.”

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Draco growled. He rocked his hips forward again. “Do you feel that? Feel how hard I am for you?” Harry nodded. “And you’d be so tight, damn. I’m your first, aren’t I?” Another nod. “Good. Merlin, you’re so willing. Look at you. All red and flushed and hard from me just talking about how I’m going to fuck you.” Harry groaned. He didn’t know if it was because of the promise that Draco was going to fuck him or because his arse was being squeezed brutally again or if it was the steady rocking of Draco’s hips against his. “You're just gagging for it,” Draco growled softly in his ear.

“How—about instead of talking about it—you do it?” Harry gritted out. Draco chuckled lowly.

“If you insist,” he murmured. He let Harry unhook his leg from his hip and then let go of Harry’s arse. Draco grabbed Harry’s hips and spun him around so that Harry was facing the tree, arms wrapped low around his waist and mouthing at Harry’s neck.

The bell rang and they both cursed, waiting for the flood of students to pass before coming up behind the class. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and bit his lip in thought. He carefully tried to rearrange his robes to conceal his erection.

As Harry still adjusted to being in Slytherin dorms and Slytherin-themed décor and Slytherin beds, Dean was talking and seemingly flirting with Blaise Zabini. So Harry could either seek out George or Draco, or he could read silently in his temporary bed. He chose to read silently.

That lasted for about five minutes until Draco came in without a shirt on and a towel wrapped lowly around his hips. Harry set his book down. Dean and Zabini’s conversation ceased, and Theodore Nott turned his head to stare at Draco’s shiny figure. Harry rolled his eyes. “Care to cover up?” he asked. “Not sure everyone wants to see you naked, myself included.”

He was met with murmurs of “no, it’s fine,” from Zabini and Dean. Nott had gone back to staring at the ceiling unhelpfully.

Draco smirked. “Are you sure? I would think you’re the one who wants to see me naked most of all, considering that we’re routinely fucking.” Harry felt his cheeks warm.

“Actually, were routinely getting each other off and leaving hickeys but we haven’t fucked,” he shot back at the blond.

“That’s about to change, Golden Boy.” Draco took a step towards Harry.

“We’re not having sex right now. I’m too bloody tired and there are people in the room.”

“We could stand to leave,” Blaise chimed in. “Or… watch.” Harry turned to him and he was practically drooling at the gossip going around. Dean nodded in shocked agreement.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Nott called. “You’re out of luck. Find somewhere else.”

“I like him,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Thanks, Nott.” The boy held up a peace sign with his fingers and then went back to ignoring them. Draco threw a pillow at Harry. “Well, now we’re definitely not having sex tonight.”

“Prat.”

“This is my v—” Harry clamped his mouth shut.

“Oh, yes, it seems to have slipped my mind that you’re an untainted flower,” Draco purred. He took another step toward Harry.

“I’m not a flower,” Harry replied indignantly. “I’m not fragile.”

“Care to prove that claim?” Another two steps.

“Pfft. Not now. Ask me after that truth or dare game Davis was telling me about tomorrow.” Harry got up and poked Draco in the chest before walking out into the common room to strike up a conversation about Dung Bombs with George, who was lounging on a couch in front of the fireplace.

~~~

“Truth or Dare.” Blaise had asked the question to George, who grinned.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to eat one of your own Puking Pastilles.” George shrugged and went to grab the box of Weasley’s treats that were supposed to be banned by Umbridge. (But nobody gave a shit what that old toad wanted, so…)

Harry tuned out the game and leaned back on his hands, vaguely paying attention as to what was happening. Dean kissed Blaise, Nott took off his trousers, a couple of people from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff made out. Nothing extreme. His butt kind of hurt from sitting on the ground. Until he heard Draco’s name, he didn’t care.

“Malfoy. Truth or Dare,” Hannah Abbott said.

“Dare.” Harry caught his eye and Draco smirked.

“I dare you to… make out with… Harry. Shirtless. Until I say stop. And give him a hickey or two,” she added. Harry blushed. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but this time there was an audience.

And Harry hated audiences.

“I thought Hufflepuff was supposed to be the angelic House,” he grumbled as Draco walked over to him and dropped his knees on either side of Harry’s outstretched legs, sitting on his thighs. Another one of those feral grins appeared on Draco’s face.

“Scared, Potter?” he purred. Harry shot him a glare.

“You wish.” He started to unbutton his shirt but was stopped.

“Want to make it better?” Draco whispered. Harry rose an eyebrow. “Let me do that for you.”

“Fine.” Harry leaned forward and connected his lips with Draco’s over-familiar ones after Draco removed Harry’s glasses. He felt Draco deftly popping his buttons undone from his shirt, and then he felt said shirt being slid down his shoulders. He pulled the sleeves off his wrists and undid Draco’s shirt as well. He felt slim fingers tangle in his hair.

He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was him being hyper-aware that people were watching him snog someone or just that Draco’s lips were scorching hot, or maybe it was the Veritaserum that everyone took before the game that heightened his senses, but Harry felt every single movement. Every slide of Draco’s tongue against his, every bite on his lip and every shift of fingers in his hair, every gasp of air. He was sure he was blushing, the telltale sign of burning cheeks gave it away, but Draco’s body was like a furnace against his and the blush was likely unnoticeable.

He started to feel slightly uncomfortable when Draco trailed kisses down his mouth and jaw, landing on his pulse point and began sucking avidly and determinedly to leave a giant bruise on Harry’s neck. It was only uncomfortable because now he felt people staring at his face, instead of something else on him. He bit down hard on his lip to stop from making any noise.

“You can be vocal, Harry,” Hannah said innocently. He fought to open his eyes and glared at her. Hannah shrugged and mumbled, “or not…”

Harry’s eyes flew back open again in surprise and he squeaked unintentionally when Draco bit a small amount of skin on his collarbone.

“You doing all right there, Potter?” Nott asked. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Your friend just—bit me and it bloody well—hurt, Nott, don’t ask if I’m enjoying myself!” Harry snapped, breathing heavily. Draco laved over the bite as if apologetically and Harry squeezed Draco’s waist for a moment in acknowledgment.

“Wow, how many times are you two willing to do this?” a girl asked elatedly. “This is bloody hot.”

“Aren’t you a Third Year, Greengrass?” Draco murmured into Harry’s skin. She shrugged.

“I thought there’d be more feeling up,” Hannah said sadly. Harry gasped as Draco's hand immediately found its way to the front of his jeans and squeezed.

“What did you want me to do, grab his arse?” he growled. Hannah grinned and Harry rolled his eyes. He stuck his hands in Draco’s back pockets, squeezed, and glared at Hannah again. She smiled happily.

“I don’t know why you bother having Potter do that, Hannah, Draco’s obviously a top,” Zabini chimed in. “He’s the one that would be feeling Potter up.” Harry chose not to mention the hand that was currently in his lap and rubbing him through his denim.

Hannah sighed solemnly. “You can stop now, I suppose,” she said. Draco pulled back but didn’t move from Harry’s lap. Harry removed his hands from Draco’s pockets and they pulled their shirts back on.

“Potter. Truth or Dare,” he mumbled darkly, buttoning all but his top two buttons of his shirt.

“Dare.”

Draco leaned into his ear. “Let me fuck you. Tonight.” Harry felt his already hard cock throb.

“After the game,” he replied. Draco rolled a lip through his teeth and nodded.

“Fine.”

“Davis. Truth or Dare,” Harry called over Draco’s shoulder. His gaze returned to the Slytherin sitting over his lap. “You’re not gonna move, are you?”

“No. I’m pretty comfortable here, I think,” Draco answered.

“Truth,” Tracey Davis decided.

“If you had to shag anyone in the room, who would it be?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s hungry look.

“Theo.”

“That was a quick response,” Harry said.

Davis shrugged. “He’s hot.”

Harry couldn't agree, but he didn’t say anything.

A few more rounds went by and Harry heard his name being called again. He sighed. “Truth.”

“Who put those other marks on your neck?” Harry froze and his gaze crept up to Draco, who was smirking again. “The faded ones, not the ones Malfoy just gave you.”

“Dare. I’m not answering that.” Harry’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence when Draco ran fingernails over his abdomen.

“Fine. Kiss the person that gave them to you. If they’re in the room.” Harry made a pained noise.

“I don’t want to do that,” he said.

“I’m hurt,” Draco whispered. Harry shot him an irritated look. And louder, “yeah, Potter, let’s see who got the pleasure of marking the Chosen Neck.” Harry rolled his eyes and didn’t even bother to lean back when Draco leaned forward.

“Don’t call it that. And wouldn’t you like to know?” Harry shot back with a grin.

“Yeah,” Zabini chimed knowingly. “He would. So would everyone else. Get on with it, Potter.” Harry bit his cheek to stop a grin. “Or we’ll start guessing.” Draco rose a challenging eyebrow with a smirk. Harry hesitantly moved forward and his lips brushed Draco’s. The blond coaxed Harry’s mouth open with his tongue and it slipped inside. Harry thought he felt a smile on Draco’s lips but there was no way of knowing for sure and he didn’t want to stop the kiss. These kinds of kisses were rare; the post-orgasmic feeling always left them floaty and breathless, and when Draco did kiss Harry like this, he always left right after. Harry was still attempting - and failing, honestly - to deny any feelings past sexual attraction and he doubted Draco had any feelings for him at all. It wasn’t as if they had been friends before they started getting each other off. It was just sexual attraction, and Harry knew that. Several people started murmuring in shock and some gasped.

Dean muttered, “you’re bloody mad.”

Harry didn’t make eye contact with Draco when they separated. He was quite embarrassed. “Um… I’m going to go up to bed,” he said quietly, face flaming. Draco moved off his lap with a frown and Harry stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked to the Slytherin dorm.

Chapter Text

Harry lied in his bed on his side with the covers pulled up to his chin in a fetal position.

“What happened out there?” a voice came from the door. Harry glanced over.

“Since when do you care?” he asked quietly. Draco walked over to Harry’s bed and stood at the end of it.

“Since I’m reluctantly forfeiting my Dare to you and changing it to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.” Harry looked at Draco again. “You’re lying. What’s going on? Was it Abbott’s Dare? Or Marietta’s?” Harry didn’t answer. “You’re being difficult, Harry.” He looked up to Draco at the use of his first name. “Don’t read too far into it,” Draco warned. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I said I don’t know,” Harry repeated. Draco sighed and walked to the other side of Harry’s bed.

“Move over.” Harry turned around and looked at Draco in confusion. “Scoot over, Potter.” Harry complied, shuffling backward so there was enough room for another person on the bed. Draco took off his shirt and climbed under the covers next to Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist and hugging him close. “We’re not speaking of this.” A hand carded through his hair gently.

“If you’re willingly giving up sex, you really must care,” Harry laughed quietly. He smiled into Draco’s collarbone.

“Shut up,” Draco replied without venom. Harry felt Draco’s fingernails drag up and down the small of his back. “I still don’t like you.”

“Of course, Malfoy,” Harry agreed with a grin, “I hate you too.”

Draco grabbed Harry’s chin with a hand and tilted it up towards his own face. He leaned down and planted a kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry responded to it by humming and pushing Draco onto his back, straddling him. Draco laughed and hooked his fingers on the waistband of Harry’s pyjama bottoms. Harry kissed him lightly on the lips repeatedly until they were both laughing against each other’s lips.

“One,” Draco said. Harry cocked his head. “One date. And I get to pick where.”

"But I thought you said your parents... you can't be seen with me," Harry said.

"We'll do it somewhere private. Or sneak around the castle," Draco murmured. "How does that sound? Good?"

“Yeah.” Harry couldn’t help a grin. “Okay.” Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and brought him down for another kiss. Harry sat up, his legs on either side of Draco’s hips and his hand splayed flat on Draco’s bare chest. Draco’s cheeks flushed and Harry felt a slight pressure against his arse. He tilted his head down slightly, hair falling over his eyes and obstructing part of his vision. He tucked a piece behind his ear and deliberately shifted his hips, not breaking Draco’s eye contact.

“Mnh—” Draco slipped his hands under Harry’s shirt and grabbed his hips. “Again with the low hanging trousers,” he mumbled.

“Why do you think I wear them, Draco?” Harry purred. “It keeps you staring.” The pressure on his arse was a lot, now, and Draco canted his hips up, searching for more friction. Harry fell forward in surprise and caught himself by the hands on Draco’s chest.

“Fuck you,” Draco growled. “Fuck you for taunting me with your hip bones and your arse and your throat.”

“What do you want to do to my throat?” Harry asked, his voice in a whisper. A hand slowly reached up and held him by the back of the neck, Draco’s thumb putting a very small amount of pressure on Harry’s Adam’s apple. It came around the front of Harry’s throat and Draco’s fingers grabbed him by the jaw, palm pressing into the front of Harry’s neck. Harry tilted his head back in obvious submission, feeling the warm hand spread prickles of sensation down his neck and to his cock.

“You’re so… willing,” Draco murmured in astonishment. “How? You don’t seem put off or nervous at all.”

Harry languidly opened his eyes and swallowed, breathing labored from the thickness of arousal. Draco flipped them around and was suddenly in between Harry’s legs, on top of him, and Harry was on his back. He began kissing down Harry’s neck.

“Fuck—Draco, fuck me,” Harry groaned. “Do it.” Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and flicked it. The curtains to Harry’s bed closed. He murmured a Silencing and Locking Charm around them and set his wand somewhere out of sight. Harry grabbed Draco’s silky hair and pulled him back up to kiss him again.

Draco pulled back to stare at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure?” Harry nodded. Draco’s grey eyes were blown with lust, and Harry thought his probably were as well. Draco stuck three fingers past Harry’s lips and stroked the sensitive top of his mouth until Harry began sucking on the fingers obediently.

Draco pushed Harry’s trousers down to his thighs and grabbed his cock. Harry gasped at the sudden warm hand and moaned when Draco started stroking. Draco took his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and murmured two spells, one where Harry felt Draco’s magic course through his body and the other that slicked Draco’s fingers with a clear jelly that looked like lube to Harry. Draco’s hand traveled down to the curve of Harry’s arse. Harry shivered at the feeling of the cold jelly on his skin and gasped loudly when he felt a finger press against his hole.

Draco let go of Harry’s cock and ran a soothing hand down his stomach and leaned down, taking Harry's cock in his mouth.

The combined feeling of Draco sucking him off and fucking him with his fingers made Harry’s eyes roll back. He choked out a moan and threaded his hands in Draco’s hair again. When Draco crooked a finger and found what Harry reasoned had to be his prostate, Harry jerked his hips and groaned.

Draco added another finger and it went easily enough. The lube definitely helped. They were continuously brushing Harry's knot of nerves and he could feel himself tensing as he got closer to coming. Draco pulled off his cock with a pop and Harry whined, which turned into a moan when he felt the jolt of pleasure again. Draco moved up to kiss him. It was light, soft and almost reassuring. The discomfort Harry had initially felt was gone, entirely replaced by pleasure. He was gasping and arching his back with every stroke. “Mo—Draco, more,” he said shakily.

He whimpered at the entrance of the third finger. It burned, and Draco paused to let Harry get used to it. When he nodded, Draco immediately crooked his fingers again, with more force than the last time he did it, and they shoved up against Harry’s prostate instead of just brushing it. Harry shouted and reached up to grab Draco’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the soft skin. He shuddered and his following gasp was drowned out by Draco’s mouth over his. He arched up, searching for more friction, but got none.

“Draco, please—please, I need—” Before Harry could finish his sentence, Draco flipped him over and removed his fingers. Harry’s hips were lifted into the air and he scrambled to support himself on his forearms.

He had never been this hard in his life. A hand rested softly on his lower back and Harry focused on the warmth of Draco’s palm. After a moment of breathing, he nodded. Draco leaned over his back and kissed Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s going to burn,” he warned quietly, “at first it’s going to hurt. You need to stay relaxed. It will make it easier and better.” Harry exhaled shakily and Draco straightened his body again. Harry’s legs got spread further apart on the bed. He felt the head of Draco’s slicked cock push against his hole and tried to stay relaxed like he was told. When the tip pushed in, Harry gasped and Draco stopped. Draco was right; it did burn. Not as badly as Harry had expected, but it was still quite uncomfortable. There was a hand running up and down his back, shoulders to tailbone, and that helped Harry relax.

“I’m—I’m okay. You can keep going,” he said quietly. Draco began pushing again.

“Fuck, you’re so small and tight around me, Harry,” he groaned. “You should see yourself like this. Gorgeous.” Harry blushed. The only thing going through his mind was full, big, stretched. He also knew that Draco was very well endowed. Harry had a difficult time taking it into his mouth, he had no idea how he was going to take it up his arse.

It felt like a bloody eternity before Draco was fully seated and Harry felt his hips press against his own. His hands were clenched in his pillow. The only sounds filling the air were Harry and Draco’s heavy breathing. Finally, Harry hissed, “Move.”

Draco pulled out and thrust back in, slowly, shallowly. Harry heard himself making breathy gasps, and then Draco growled quietly. His hands were on Harry’s hips, holding him lightly. Harry’s arms gave out, and his head fell forward onto the pillow, his ragged breathing audible.

After a couple more thrusts, Harry moaned loudly and bowed his back, pushing his arse back toward Draco further.

Draco moved a little faster, and a little harder, and he kept making Harry claw at the bedsheets and cry out. “Fuck you, Malfoy, I’m not going to break,” Harry snapped from his pillow, “move faster—Fuck!” Draco, the everlasting angel, did as Harry asked and moved faster, fucking him into the mattress with fast, smooth movements. Harry continuously moaned into the bed as Draco battered his prostate, groaning obscenities directed at Harry. He pulled Harry up straight and wrapped one hand around his throat, the other around Harry’s cock and started stroking while he kissed and nipped at the skin on Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry tilted his head to give Draco better access.

Draco bit roughly at Harry’s skin and continued to fuck into him. Harry was nearly sobbing and reached around to grab Draco’s hip for stability.

Draco heaved in air and bit Harry’s earlobe. “Gods, you’re so tight, Harry. Do you like this? Do you like feeling me fuck you?” Harry nodded minutely.

“Yes,” he groaned. “Fuck—” He cried in anguish when a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and refused to let him come. “No,” he moaned, “Draco!”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Draco whispered throatily, “just wait for a little longer.” Harry dug his nails into Draco’s skin. “Fuck, Harry, you’re so perfect,” Draco murmured. Harry whimpered. Draco’s rhythm faltered, and he slammed into Harry a few more times before he was stroking Harry’s cock again as they both came loudly, shaking and resting their heads on each other’s shoulders.

They fell onto the bed next to each other, breathing heavily and coming down from the post-orgasmic high. Harry felt come running down the curve of his arse and looked over to see Draco handing him his wand. They cast cleaning charms on themselves and Harry undid the locking and silencing charms on the room and bed, afterward setting his wand somewhere on a nightstand. Draco grabbed his chin lightly and turned Harry’s face toward himself. Harry smiled into the offered kiss and felt Draco smile as well.

“I meant it,” Draco murmured. Harry hummed in curiosity. “When I said… I would go out… with you,” he clarified, cheeks pink. Harry gave him a little smile. “But I didn’t really… ask. I just… sort of… demanded it.”

“You’re having a difficult time telling me this,” Harry observed. Draco’s cheeks got a darker pink.

“Shut up. I have a habit of demanding things and I’m… trying to break it,” he grumbled. Harry brought his hand up to Draco’s chest and his fingers started dancing over the flawless pale skin lightly.

“Oh?”

“So I want to… ask you if you want to… go out. On a date. With me.” Draco’s cheeks were bright pink now, and Harry grinned. He moved up to kiss him again.

“Yeah,” he mumbled against Draco’s lips. He felt Draco breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” Draco repeated quietly. Harry hummed and buried his face in Draco’s neck with a yawn. Draco’s arm draped over his waist to pull him closer. Harry heard Draco’s heart beating quickly.

“‘Night.” He fell asleep, the last thing he heard was Draco murmuring, “goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Harry woke up with a dull ache in his back. He was still in Draco’s arms; he looked up to be met with silver eyes already staring at him. Harry frowned and yawned. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“I can’t do anything else,” Draco retorted, too quickly, “your body is on my arm and if I moved you would have w—fallen off this bed.” Harry resisted rolling his eyes. For a Slytherin, Draco was a terrible liar.

“I see,” he said instead. He flicked Draco’s shoulder. “I’m sore, you prat.” Draco smirked.

“Well, you told me to go harder, so I obliged. It’s not my fault you chose that.”

“Yes, well, you also got incredibly lucky in that department, and I am now regretting my choice.” Draco laughed quietly.

“Good genes,” he replied, still smirking.

“Right…” Harry yawned again.

“I mean, you got good genes, too,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Your arse is damn near perfect.”

“But that’s just quidditch,” Harry mumbled.

“Is the rest of you just from quidditch too?” Draco asked pointedly. Harry blushed. “Didn’t think so. Shut up, Potter.”

Harry got up and pulled his pants on and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn. When he looked back over at Draco, the blond was eyeing him in satisfaction. “What?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just look in the mirror.”

Harry frowned and shoved his glasses on. He threw one of his oversized shirts on that fell off his shoulder and went down to his thighs, and padded into the bathroom. He received smirks from some Slytherins and odd looks from other Houses in the common room on his way there. Upon glancing at himself in the mirror, Harry’s jaw nearly dropped.

His normally natural-tanned skin on his throat was littered with purple, circular bruises that went all the way down to his chest. Harry’s face reddened. He regretted not bringing his wand. But then again, Harry didn’t know healing spells very well at all. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing when he realized that it was greasy. He stripped his shirt and pants off and stepped into a shower stall, turning it on hot enough that steam filled the whole bathroom.

Upon looking down, Harry saw more circular bruises on his hips from what looked like fingertips, and he groaned. “That prick,” he grumbled.

After shutting the shower off, Harry was a bit hesitant to go out of the stall naked to grab a towel across the bathroom but did it quickly anyway and wrapped it around his hips, sure to hide those bruises. He grabbed his clothes off the floor and walked back toward the boys’ dorms, hyper-aware of people staring at him. He jumped when a Ravenclaw in a higher year grabbed his wrist. “Do I know you?”

“Whoever gave you a good time, I can do better,” the boy said lowly. Harry scoffed and tried to twist his hand out of the kid’s grip, to no avail.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he replied, “I’m not a cheap whore that will sleep with just anyone.”

“Then don’t let me be anyone.” Harry clenched his jaw and hands. “C’mon, Potter, I’m sure I can do better than whatever immature little kid tried to take care of you.”

“Who said they didn’t?” a voice asked from a couple feet away. Draco leaned his shoulder against the wall, wearing nothing but loose pyjama trousers. Harry again tried to tug his wrist out of the boy’s grip. “I’d let go of him, if I were you, Nichols. I’m sure no one is a fan of being called an immature little kid, and Potter evidently isn’t fond of you manhandling him as you are. I can't imagine the world of trouble you'd be in if you keep trying to take advantage of the Chosen One.”

“You're friends with Malfoy,” the boy sneered to Harry.

“He’s surprisingly not terrible when he’s not talking,” Harry replied, feeling his temper rise. “I don’t know who you are, but you need to back off. I’m not anyone’s property to take.” Something in his tone made the Ravenclaw obey, letting go of his arm and stalking away. Harry, fuming, followed Draco back into the dorm and slammed the door.

“What just happened?” Draco asked, taking his trousers off and changing into his school robes.

“I was walking back to the dorm and that arse just grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go,” Harry grumbled, “started saying shit about me and how he could ‘take care of me’.” Harry scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not someone that just goes around letting anyone who wants to fuck me do it.” He dropped onto the ground in front of his trunk and opened it, rifling through it to find his robes.

“Ravenclaws are smart, but they’re assholes,” Draco said. Harry absentmindedly rubbed his mildly sore wrist. “Did he hurt you?” Harry looked up at him.

“No,” he lied. It did actually feel a bit raw. “‘S fine.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re a shit liar,” he declared, drawing his wand. He walked over and grabbed Harry’s wrist, pointing the tip of his wand at the raw skin and murmuring a healing charm. The pain went away and Harry gave a tiny smile as thanks before going back through his trunk to look for his tie.

~~~

Harry was growing increasingly nervous for what Draco had planned. He was being secretive, and he wouldn’t tell Harry anything about the date he had arranged. He would only get flushed and snap at Harry, or play it off nonchalantly if Harry asked about it. So Harry sulked for about a week and a half, desperate to know what he was planning.

“Honestly, Harry, I don’t like the relationship at all,” Hermione said when Harry brought it up again. “I mean, those marks he left on your neck stayed for days. And Ron doesn’t like it either, just look at him.” They looked over and saw Ron frowning across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table where Draco sat. “We want you to be happy, Harry, but does it have to be with Malfoy?”

“For now, yes,” Harry replied indignantly. “Look, I know you can’t understand why, but I really do like him.”

“I mainly don’t want to see you get hurt, Harry. And I can say that Ron doesn’t want that either,” Hermione said reasonably. He sighed.

“I know. Just let me deal with it, yeah? He’s been a lot different this year.” They nodded reluctantly. “Thanks. I’m actually supposed to go somewhere with him later today.”

“We know,” they chorused.

“You’ve been talking about it nonstop for three days,” Ron said. Harry bit his cheek.

“I just don’t know what he’s wanting to do, he’s been so quiet about it.”

“Maybe he’s going to kill you,” Ron grunted, “or kidnap you and hand you over to You-Know-Who.”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. He shrugged. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Very funny, Ron,” he mused around a forkful of steak. He looked over to the Slytherin table to see Draco standing up from his spot and walking towards the doors of the Great Hall. “Oh, I gotta go,” Harry said. He stood up and followed Draco out, tripping on his bench on the way out.

Draco scoffed when Harry caught up to him. “Took you long enough.” Harry shook his head and grinned.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Draco bit his lip, still refusing to answer the question. “You know, unless you’re planning on killing me or kidnapping me, I’m not going to run away.”

“I’m not planning on doing that.”

“Then what are we doing?” Harry cried. A smile tugged at Draco’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re so eager, Potter,” he hummed in response. “It’s called a secret.” Harry frowned slightly. “And we’re not doing anything, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re walking. And talking. We don’t know enough about each other. Just the bad things and the sex things.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry conceded. “What do you want to know?” Draco shrugged.

“Everything.” When Harry tensed, he added, “everything you feel comfortable talking about.” Harry rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you’d care about comfort,” he admitted. Draco looked over at him and mumbled something before looking away again. “Hmm?” Harry asked. Draco shook his head.

“My birthday is June 5th,” he said instead, “my favorite color is purple—yes, purple, stop giving me that look. My favorite food is soupe à l’oignon,” Draco continued, ignoring Harry’s question, “dessert is chocolate covered strawberries, and despite popular opinion I actually do have real friends and not just followers. Your turn.” Harry sighed.

“My birthday is July 31st. I don’t really have a favorite color, but I guess I’ve always liked blue. My favorite food is anything raspberry, and my favorite dessert is treacle tarts.”

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” Draco probed. Harry ran a lip through his teeth.

“I grew up at my Muggle aunt and uncle and cousin’s after my parents were killed,” he said.

“Oh,” Draco whispered. “I still write to my aunt, even though she married a Muggle. My mother’s side of the family disowned her because she ‘brought shame’ to the Pureblood line of the Blacks. I’m not even supposed to know about her, but family has a way of getting brought up in conversation.”

“Endless pestering, I’m guessing?” Harry teased cautiously. Draco let out a breathy laugh.

“Something like that. Anyway, my mother finally told me about her. She had said she writes Aunt Andromeda around holidays, so I nicked the address off a letter that Mother was sending to the Muggle post office—can you believe my mother, the most Pureblooded witch ever, used a Muggle post office?” Harry laughed quietly.

“That’s truly a stretch to the imagination,” he admitted in amusement. “Andromeda?” Draco hummed. “I know her daughter. Tonks.” Draco looked over at him with a little smile.

“I write to her, too,” he said. “I’ve never met Andromeda or Tonks in person, but I’d like to.”

“I don’t understand why marrying a Muggle is such a big deal,” Harry said. “I mean, we’re all people.”

“Ancient, traditional Pureblood families believe that anyone who’s less than 100% magical is a lesser being because they have 'contaminated blood.' Hence the slur, ‘Mudblood.'” Harry winced in sympathy for Hermione at the word. “It’s not… easy, trying to stray so far from how I’ve been raised, as far as prejudice and superiority. I am trying, I know my father’s and You-Know-Who’s beliefs are wrong, that this is a pointless path that will lead in death or Azkaban for fifty years. I just can’t be a better person overnight. It’s going to take time. I don’t want... people to think I’m not trying.” Draco took a step towards Harry as they walked, and when Harry didn’t move away, Draco grabbed his hand. Harry squeezed it and let out a surprised yelp when Draco pulled them into a quiet passageway.

“What—”

Draco kissed him. It was nothing like one of their usual kisses. It was soft and gentle, and Harry dared to think that Draco was being sweet. Draco’s free hand came up to frame Harry’s jaw, the other hand holding onto Harry’s still. The long kiss was followed by a series of shorter kisses, Draco and Harry laughing like little kids and smiling against each other’s lips.

“You know,” Harry mumbled after they pulled away, noses still touching, “I think I might rather like you.” Draco grinned.

“Yeah?”

Harry bit his lip and smiled. “Yeah.”

They both turned at hearing a loud shattering sound. Ginny was standing there, broken glass and a puddle of pumpkin juice surrounding her feet. Ginny, Harry thought, shit. “Hi, Ginny.”

“Harry, what—what are you…?” She trailed off and her jaw worked but no sounds came out. Harry walked towards her and grabbed her arm lightly.

“Please don’t say anything. If you do, he and I could both get badly hurt. This is a new thing and we’re testing the waters, and would really like to keep it private for now,” he said quietly. Ginny hesitated for a second and Harry gave her a pleading look.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But because you asked me, not because I like him.” Harry nodded in thanks and turned around, to find that Draco wasn’t there.

“What—fuck,” he cursed. He ran to the corner and peered around it, to see a blond head turning the next one. Harry caught up to him and grabbed Draco’s shoulder, pushing him into an empty classroom.

“What did you leave for?” he asked. Draco didn’t look at him.

“She fancies you,” he replied to the wall.

“So? She has for a long time.”

“You touched her,” Draco said, again to the wall. Harry got confused.

“Her arm!” he cried. Draco didn’t look at him still, and it clicked in Harry’s brain. “Draco… are you jealous?” No answer. “Are you nervous?” No answer again. “Are you—”

“I’m insecure,” Draco finally snapped, troubled look on his face. Harry rose an eyebrow and looked Draco up and down. “I know how I act, but that’s all it is. An act. I’m used to getting what I want and now there’s a chance that I won’t. I don’t do well with competition.”

“Draco.” Harry reached for one of Draco’s clenched fists and pried it open, entwining their fingers. Draco didn’t pull away but he also didn’t respond to the touch. “There’s seven billion people in the world. And I’m still here. What does that tell you?”

“That you’re bloody mad,” Draco muttered, irritatingly still looking at the wall.

“Quite possibly,” Harry laughed softly. “That’s not what I meant, though.” Draco looked over at him. Harry smiled tentatively, the expression widening when Draco squeezed his hand.

“You’re a stubborn git,” he stated. Harry was startled into a laugh. “I’m serious. You don't give up on anything.” Draco huffed and shook his head.

“I don’t like giving up on things,” Harry said, “and you’re going to have to deal with that for quite a while.” He paused. "Did you say you want me?" He saw Draco blush for the first time today, and he silently cheered at his accomplishment.

"Shut up, Potter," Draco mumbled, biting his lip in a clear attempt to hide a smile and failing. "I said no such thing, and you heard nothing to suggest otherwise." Harry grinned and shook his head, pulling Draco out of the empty room and continuing down the hall.

Chapter Text

The next day, Harry hadn’t seen Draco all day and was getting worried. At dinner he didn’t show up and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, frowning across the Hall at the absence of a blond head.

“Harry, I’m sure he’s all right,” Hermione said apologetically. “Maybe he’s just not feeling well…”

“I’ve checked everywhere, ‘Mione. He’s not anywhere,” Harry sighed. “I’m worried.”

“Aww, Harry, you’re worried about your boyfriend,” Ron snickered. Harry blushed.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he argued, “we went out once. Oh, god, maybe I am just the worst company ever and he never wants to talk to me again?” He let his head fall into his hands. “I’m the worst, aren’t I?” A hand found his thigh and squeezed it lightly. Harry looked up at Hermione, but her hands were both on the table and she was looking at him pitifully. Then at Ron, but he was too busy shoveling food in his mouth. Harry tried inconspicuously to look under the table, and saw silver eyes, blond hair and Slytherin robes holding a slender finger against pink lips. Harry’s eyes widened and he returned his gaze to his plate with flaming cheeks. Draco tugged his pant leg and Harry moved forward on his seat so that his stomach was pushed against the edge of the table. He laid a hand on Hermione’s arm.

“Found him,” he whispered hoarsely, through gritted teeth as he felt his jeans being unzipped.

“Where is he?” Hermione asked. Harry put his pointer finger facing directly down on his table. Her jaw opened slightly. “Is he under the table?” Harry nodded minutely. “Oh my god.” She started to move to look but Harry stopped her.

“You don’t want to do that,” he warned. He grabbed her arm tightly when he felt Draco pulling his cock out of his jeans and pants.

“Harry, is he… you know… right now?” Harry swallowed thickly. His face burned as he nodded. “We’re in public!” Hermione whispered furiously. Harry’s other hand clenched around a fork as Draco tongued at his slit.

“I know, Hermione,” he croaked, “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

Hermione nodded vehemently. “How did he get under the table?” she hissed.

“I don’t know, but how is he going to get out?” Harry whined quietly as the warmth of Draco's mouth engulfed him. He set both his forearms on the table and tensed. Draco licked a fat stripe up the underside of his cock and Harry inhaled sharply.

“Harry, are you all right?” Ron asked curiously. Harry leaned over to him.

“Draco’s giving—m-me a blowjob under—the table,” he whispered, gasping. Ron paled. “Please—don’t look,” Harry pleaded. His friend nodded. Harry had the sudden urge to slam his forehead on the table. “Oh—g-god.” He cleared his throat to hide his groan. He felt Draco chuckle quietly around him. He found grip on the edge of his bench, both of his hands whitening because of how hard he was gripping the wood seat. Draco was unrelenting in taking Harry down to the base again and again until he was trembling from being so close to coming.

He felt his abdomen tense and pressed his lips together in a thin line to prevent from making any more embarrassing noises. Harry’s toes curled and he clenched his jaw as he came down Draco’s throat. The blond milked every drop of come from Harry’s cock and then tucked him back into his trousers and zipped him back up again. Harry parted his lips and let out a small sigh, releasing his death grip on the bench. Draco nudged his legs to one side and Harry felt him crawling out under the bench. Harry froze. But Draco was invisible when he left and apparently took the opportunity to give Harry a kiss on the cheek before leaving. He was using Harry's bloody cloak.

“You,” Harry hissed when he got back into the Slytherin common room. He stalked over to Draco, who was reading a book and leaning back on the arm of one of the sofas. “What the fuck were you thinking?!” he hissed. Draco looked up and smirked.

“Hello to you too, gorgeous,” he said nonchalantly. Harry faltered for a moment but quickly recomposed himself. “How was supper?”

“You’re bloody mad! What were you thinking?!” Harry cried, ignoring the question. Draco set up a Notice-Me-Not charm before he grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him onto his lap.

“I was thinking... that we hadn’t seen each other all day and I wanted to make sure you knew that I haven’t forgotten about you quite yet.” He grinned and leaned up to kiss Harry. Harry frowned. “You look good when you’re mad.”

“Do I?” Harry rolled his eyes. “You could have been seen.”

“Hm. That’s why I borrowed your cloak,” Draco murmured. Harry sighed. Draco kissed him lightly. “Forgive me?”

“I guess,” Harry grumbled under his breath, mock reluctantly. He wasn’t mad at Draco, he couldn’t be. And it was a good blowjob so he couldn’t complain. He leaned forward and rested his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, arms wrapped around under Draco’s waist. One of Draco’s hands came up to card through his hair, the other presumably still holding his book above Harry’s back.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but Harry was suddenly being lightly shaken awake. “Hmm?”

“Potter, go to bed,” Draco whispered in his ear. Harry groaned. “Come on.”

“I’m comfortable, though,” Harry complained.

“This is hurting my back,” Draco countered. Harry sighed.

“Fine.” He sat up and moved from straddling Draco’s hips to walk into the dorm. He fell on his bed and saw Draco walking to his own. He reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, effectively getting the boy’s attention. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

“Is that your way of saying you want me to sleep with you tonight?” Draco rose an eyebrow. Harry nodded awkwardly into his pillow. Draco walked around to the other side of Harry’s bed and climbed under the covers, his body like a furnace against Harry’s back. Draco threw an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled them impossibly close to each other. Harry could feel Draco’s breath ghost across his skin and could smell Draco’s vanilla conditioner as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry stayed low as he moved through shelves of crystal balls. Arthur Weasley walked on the black tile in front of him, wand out and a light at the end of it. Harry followed behind, moving slow and quiet as Arthur led him somewhere. He glanced to his right and saw the reflection of a snake in a black mirror-esque wall. He turned back to Arthur and jumped at him. Arthur’s cry of pain echoed through the halls, but Harry kept lunging at the man, unable to control his own actions.

He woke to Draco shaking him. “Harry!”

Harry sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off his legs. “I—I—I need to see Dumbledore,” he gasped. He hissed in pain and brought his hand up to his forehead. Draco held his shoulder and turned Harry to face him with concerned eyes.

“Hey, what happened? What’s wrong?” he asked. Harry shook his head and got out of bed, rushing out of the dorm and through the common room. Draco was beside him a second later with a sweatshirt on. “Are you all right?” the blond asked. Harry shook his head again and paused at the Griffin statue that led to Dumbledore’s office.

“Sherbet lemon,” he said. The statue started turning and a staircase rose up with it. Harry stepped up on the staircase and Draco followed. Harry didn’t wait to knock, he just burst through the doors. “Professor Dumbledore—”

“Mr. Potter, what on earth’s wrong?” Dumbledore asked, hustling out of his personal chambers in his nightgown. Sweat dripped down the side of Harry’s face and he didn’t register it until a sleeved hand wiped it away from his temple lightly. He looked over to Draco, who was blushing.

“Sorry, I just saw… I wasn’t thinking…” Draco trailed off and bit his lip, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. Harry swallowed shakily and his gaze swiveled back to Dumbledore.

“Headmaster, I just had a dream,” he said, “a vivid dream that Arthur Weasley was attacked by a snake in the Ministry. I—I’ve had dreams before, nightmares, everyone has, but this was different. I swear it was. I—Please, send someone to the Ministry. Just to be sure, I care about Mr. Weasley and he’s a—”

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him. “Phineas, please wake professor McGonagall. She’ll want to hear about this. Have her inform the Weasley children.” A portrait to Dumbledore’s left nodded and disappeared from his frame. “I shall send Madam Pomfrey to the Ministry, and inform the Minister, St. Mungo’s, and the DMLE. I appreciate you telling me this, Harry, not to worry. Mr. Weasley will be taken care of. I’m going to need a description of your dream. Where were you? If you can pinpoint the exact place in the Ministry, it’d be most helpful. How did you witness the attack?”

“Um—the room was—it had shelves of crystal balls, I think. It was all black, all marble. Really shiny,” Harry recalled.

“Were you watching the attack or committing it?” Dumbledore asked calmly.

“I—watching it,” Harry lied. Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

“Thank you. Mr. Malfoy, please make sure to take Mr. Potter back to the common room and that he gets a warm cup of tea. Winky?” A house elf popped up next to the old man. “Please get Mr. Potter here a tea, and maybe something to balance his blood pressure.”

“Of course sir. What tea is Master Harry Potter wanting?” Winky squeaked.

“Chamomile, I suppose,” Harry said helplessly. Winky bowed and popped back away. Harry felt exhaustion overcome his body and his eyelids drooped, adrenaline and shock and fear leaving him.

Draco placed a hand on the small of his back to support him silently. Harry leaned into the touch and sighed. “Thank you, Headmaster,” he mumbled. Dumbledore nodded solemnly and Harry and Draco took that as their queue to leave.

When they got back to the dorm room, Harry pushed Draco backward onto his bed and straddled him.

“Harry… what—” Draco tried to say, but Harry cut him off by kissing him. Draco gave in for a moment before pushing Harry back slightly. “Harry, tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to think about it. I want you to fuck me,” Harry said, lust overcoming slight irritation.

“That’s not a good solution—”

“I don’t care, Draco,” Harry snapped. “Are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to find someone else who will?” Hurt flashed over Draco’s features for a split second before he recomposed himself. Harry felt a pang of guilt but was still focusing too hard on sex to register it fully. Draco stuck his hands down Harry’s pants and squeezed his bare arse. Harry moaned and bent forward to take Draco’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Good choice.” He removed their shirts and rocked their hips together.

“Uhh—” Draco gripped tighter and pulled Harry harder against his groin. “Charms… Harry, we need to put up charms,” he groaned. Harry huffed and fumbled for his wand in the nightstand and cast silencing and locking charms. He shoved the piece of wood under the bed and returned to snogging Draco breathless. He moved down the blond’s body and pulled the silk black pyjama trousers off along with Draco’s pants. Harry wasted no time sucking Draco’s cock down as far as he could into his throat. Draco tangled his hand in Harry’s hair and arched into his mouth. “God, Harry.” Harry looked up and his partner was staring back at him with parted lips and hooded eyes that were blown in a very attractive manner. Draco tightened his grip on Harry’s hair and pushed his hips up suggestively. Harry moaned around Draco, nodding. “Fuck.”

They froze when the door opened. Harry pulled off and quickly climbed onto the bed, pulling the sheets over them both. Their charms were dissolved and the curtains pulled back. Harry closed his eyes in an attempt at feigning sleep to Snape, who it inevitably was. He heard Draco sigh in relief and Harry poked his head up to see a house-elf holding a cup of tea in his bony little fingers.

“Oh. Winky. Is this my tea?” Harry asked quietly, relieved. Winky bowed and set it on the nightstand.

“Yes sir, Master Harry Potter,” the elf replied. “Do you need anything else from Winky, sirs?” The boys shook their heads and he bowed again before leaving.

Harry and Draco looked at each other and laughed quietly. They set all of the charms again and Harry pulled the covers back, causing Draco’s erection to spring back up.

He crawled back in between Draco’s legs and again sucked Draco into his mouth. Draco grabbed Harry’s hair with a groan and pushed his head down to guide his cock into Harry’s mouth further. Harry offered no resistance and happily complied. Draco did this again, multiple times until Harry felt his eyes watering from the tip of Draco’s cock pushing into the back of his throat repeatedly. Draco shuddered and pulled Harry’s mouth off, breathing heavily. Harry used the back of his hand to wipe away the small amount of spit that had gathered on his lower lip and fallen onto his chin. He caught his breath and Draco moved his hand from Harry’s hair to run a thumb along his shiny, swollen lips.

“You’re fucking amazing, Harry,” Draco breathed. “Come here.” Harry did, and no later was he turned on his stomach, arse up on the bed. Draco was behind him and his trousers were suddenly gone. Draco gave no warning before he pried Harry open and kissed his arse. Harry jerked and cried out in surprise.

He moaned loudly into his mattress as the kiss turned into licking. “Draco, fuck!” Draco thrust his tongue in as far as he could, before pulling out and repeating the action. Harry pushed his hips back towards Draco’s face wantonly, searching for more. He fisted his sheets tightly, moaning again. “Draco—” Harry’s jaw hung open and his eyelids forced themselves to flutter closed. Draco flicked his tongue and wiggled it barely further into Harry, his fingers gripping tightly onto Harry’s hips. He sucked on Harry’s rim, all while making the filthiest noises. Harry groaned. “Ohhhh fuck—” he choked out, “Draco, please, please.” He was begging, but Harry didn’t care. Draco pulled back, and Harry felt saliva trickling down the inside of his thigh. He moved to support himself up on his forearms but it was pointless as he just fell back on the bed with a whoosh when Draco pushed two fingers into his arse without warning.

Harry’s whole upper body stiffened and he embarrassingly burst into tears, sobbing, begging Draco—for what, he didn’t know anymore. Draco’s intentions were to obviously torture him with overstimulation.

“You’re so sensitive,” Draco purred. His other hand came to haul Harry up by the shoulder so that his chest was pressed against Harry’s back. He wrapped an arm around Harry in not a possessive way but in a protective, reassuring way. He kissed Harry’s cheek. “Harry.” Harry choked on his breath. “Baby, look at me.” Harry tilted his head to the left, where Draco was speaking into his ear. Draco kissed along the tear tracks on Harry’s face and even Harry’s eyelid before kissing his lips and eliciting a moan. He retracted his fingers and held Harry lightly for a moment before kissing his neck. “How?”

The question was vague but in the filthy tone that he said it, Harry knew what he meant immediately. “I—I want to ride you,” Harry replied quietly, having regained his senses. His chest fluttered from the kisses that Draco had pressed over his face. Draco shuddered behind him and nodded. They shifted and Draco moved so that he was on his back, holding Harry’s hips that were straddling him. Harry grabbed Draco’s cock under him and lowered himself onto it. It was different; sitting like this, and being so full.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. He moved his hands behind him to Draco’s thighs to support himself.

“Yeah,” Draco breathed. Harry nodded.

“I can feel...more. Just—give me a minute.” His mouth went dry and he pushed himself slightly off, lowering back down. Harry was grateful for the hands that gripped his hips to help him.

They set a steady pace, slow and agonizing but still incredible, Harry’s cock slapping lightly against Draco’s belly. Harry kept eye contact the entire time. Draco ran a thumb along Harry’s lower lip and Harry opened his mouth to let it slip in.

Their pace quickened after finding an easier way for Harry to move, which was using his thighs to push himself up and come back down. “Draco—” Harry’s voice broke off and he gasped, his head falling backward in surrender to bliss. “God.”

“You have no idea how—fucking amazing you look right now,” Draco said, voice hoarse and low. A hand reached up and rolled one of Harry’s nipples. Draco then moved his hands to grab Harry’s arse, squeezing it harshly, and Harry’s eyes fluttered closed. One hand wrapped around Harry’s cock and started moving quickly, in time with the pace that Harry was riding Draco. Draco’s hands roved everywhere and left hot trails on Harry’s skin in their wake. “Fucking perfect. C’mere,” Draco said, voice hoarse. Harry leaned forward and Draco shifted into a slightly different position. He started thrusting his hips up slowly and captured Harry’s lips in his own.

This new angle had Harry moaning nearly every thrust. Draco gripped his arse steadily.

“Draco.” Harry shuddered and gasped, head falling forward, heavy breaths blowing against Draco's neck. Harry felt his eyebrows knit together as he moaned and rode out his orgasm, rocking back and forth weakly on Draco's cock as he came between their stomachs.

It was not long after that Draco clutched Harry tighter and came hard, groaning.

Harry slid off and fell ungraciously onto the bed beside Draco. “Fuck. That was…” He turned his head to look at the boy next to him, who was staring at him lazily.

“Yes?” Draco prompted. “Do finish that sentence.” Harry blushed.

“It was really, really good,” he murmured. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Glad I fit the requirements for nearly ideal sex,” he mumbled.

“Wait—I didn't mean it like that,” Harry rushed, sitting upright and leaning over Draco. “It was more than ideal. You're quite talented at fucking me into the mattress until I scream. And I'd like you to do it again soon.” A slow smirk formed on Draco's lips.

“Oh? You like that, do you?”

Harry hummed in affirmation, memorizing Draco's blissed out expression. He frowned after a moment. “Draco…” The blond arched an eyebrow. “What’s going to happen after the winter hols?”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Well, we won't have seen each other for two weeks… will anything change?”

“No.” Draco shook his head. “You're mine now, Potter, you can't get away from me that easily.” Harry smiled and dropped a lazy kiss on Draco's lips before lying his head on Draco's chest.

“Okay,” he whispered. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry fell asleep easily.

~~~

It was going to be odd, not meeting the DA in the Room of Requirement for the two weeks of Winter Holidays.

“Things will pick up after terms starts again,” Harry said, putting his wand in his pocket. “This has been really great, I hope you all decide to come back after Winter Hols.” Everyone started to leave the room quietly. Harry looked over and saw Cho Chang standing by a photo of Cedric Diggory, crying. He walked over to her.

“Hey, Cho.” Harry rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked over and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Hey, Harry. Sorry—I was just looking at the photo. I keep wondering if he had been better... if he knew more if he would have survived.”

“He did know,” Harry said. “He was brilliant, Cho. It's just—Voldemort was better.” She sniffled and looked up. Harry followed her gaze and saw a branch of mistletoe growing above their heads. He looked back down at Cho and she leaned forward to kiss him.

He stepped back. “Wait!” he cried. She leaned back in surprise. “I'm seeing someone! I—Idon'twanttokissyou,” Harry rushed out. Cho turned red.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “I understand. Have good holidays, Harry.” She hung her head and left.

Chapter Text

Draco pulled Harry out into an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

“Well, hello,” Harry said with a grin up at him.

“I wanted to give you something,” Draco murmured. He locked the door. Harry rose an eyebrow and sat on a cushioned bench.

Draco joined him a moment later and reached into his own pocket, pulling out a short silver chain. He blushed a pretty pink color that spread across his cheeks and handed it to Harry. The bracelet had a thin silver chain and clasp, and a silver flat piece engraved with what seemed to be a date. “Wh—is this…”

Draco's blush deepened. “It's the day we started dating,” he admitted sheepishly, “I thought you might like it.” He shrugged. Harry grinned and charmed it onto his wrist, afterward launching himself around Draco and burying his face into the apple-scented skin of Draco's neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and returned the tight embrace. “I love it.” Harry frowned after a moment and pulled away slightly to look Draco in the face. “I've not gotten you anything yet. I usually go shopping with Ron and Hermione over the hols in Diagon Alley right before Christmas. I'll get you something as well.” Harry shrugged. “What do you want? I mean, your family has enough money for a moderately sized country…”

“Well, then, I suppose you'll have to get me something meaningful instead of material. I rather do like one of a kind things.” Draco kissed Harry's shoulder. “It can be added to my collection.”

“What does your collection include?” Harry asked with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

“Mmm… just a few trinkets you've likely never heard of, a few odd robes and trousers.” Draco shrugged. “And of course, you.”

“I'm one of a kind?” Harry asked, slightly disappointed because he thought Draco didn't care about his status as the Boy Who Lived. “I’m sure there are others who have survived the Killing Curse outside of Europe…” Draco frowned and patted Harry's bum disapprovingly.

“There aren't. But I don't mean that.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Well for one, you’re a world record idiot,” Draco teased. Harry scoffed. He knew it was true, but he'd never admit it. “Oh, stop scowling. Second, you’re the only person I've ever…” He trailed off and blushed, looking away. “That I've ever actually cared about. Third, you're mine, and there is certainly only one person that I decide I want at once. And you have honestly the best arse I've ever seen.” Harry offered him a shy smile. Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry's cheeks and pulled him in for a quick kiss before leaning back. “I should get back, I have to do my Prefect duties.”

“Can't you stay?” Harry asked, inwardly cringing at how needy he sounded.

“I really can't,” Draco whispered. “I will Floo-call you. And don't forget to write me letters.” Harry bit his lip and nodded, frowning slightly. Draco sighed. “I suppose I can spare a few more minutes.” Harry grinned and leaned into the hands that were cupping his face. “Charles Nichols, the Ravenclaw that grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks ago and then got in a bad accident and had to go to the Hospital wing… I might have been the one who sent him to Pomfrey.”

“Draco!” Harry groaned. “Why?”

“He touched you,” Draco replied calmly. “He hurt you. And nobody touches you. Not like that. Not unless they want to end up without limbs. And I'm not going to hesitate with girls, either. I don't care what they identify as. If they touch you in a way that I don't like, or they try to hurt you they’ll be missing the rest of the school year.”

“Ooh, I got a possessive one,” Harry hummed. “I like it.” He pecked Draco on the lips. “God, you’re so…” He trailed off and smiled at Draco.

“So what? Amazing, gorgeous, perfect?”

“All of those things, but just… you.” Harry ran his fingers through Draco's soft hair.

“Je t'adore, Harry Potter,” Draco whispered.

“I don't know what that means,” Harry admitted.

“Tu es beau, mon amour,” Draco replied. “You don't need to know what it means. Not yet.” Harry frowned, puzzled, but nodded. “Now, I really need to get to Prefect duties.” Harry sighed and nodded, standing up from where he had somehow ended up straddling Draco's thighs. Draco stood up as well and pulled Harry into one last strong kiss before kissing his cheek and hugging him, leaving afterward.

The whole exchange was over far too soon and Harry walked back to Hermione and Ron's compartment, rubbing his bracelet affectionately.

“Harry!” Ron jumped up from his seat. “Where did you go with the ferret?”

“We walked to an empty compartment. We weren't gone that long,” Harry replied. “I hate it when you call him that.”

“Oh no, did you have train sex?” Ron wailed. Harry sat down beside him.

“No, Ron,” he assured. “Draco just wanted to give me something.”

“What? A blowjob?”

“No! Ron, a bracelet!” Harry spluttered.

“He gave you jewelry? Let me see,” Hermione spoke up. Harry held out his wrist and she drew out her wand, casting detection spells rapidly before he yanked his arm away.

“Hermione!” he cried. “Can't you trust me when I say he's not like that? He's a good person! You don't have to trust him, but trust me. I’d like you to at least give him a chance, before dismissing my judgment. And I'm not just saying bullshit, I know. I know because he just told me that he would fuck up anyone who tried to mess with me.” Hermione's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply, but Harry walked out of the compartment and to the open end of the train, sliding the door shut behind him. His eyes stung.

He got so lost in the sound of the wind whistling in his ears that he didn’t hear the door until it slid shut again. He turned around and saw a ruffled Draco standing out in front of the door, hair whipping around his face.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Draco called over the wind. He walked toward Harry and wiped Harry's cheeks with warm palms against a wind-frozen face. It was only then that Harry realized he had been crying. Harry fell onto Draco's chest and sniffled. “Harry, what's happened?”

“My friends hate you,” Harry replied. “They don't trust you, they don't know you. They won't even give you a chance.”

“They're not in the relationship, though,” Draco said. “I don't care what they think of me.”

“I do. I want them to accept you, Draco. You—you mean a lot to me, and I'd like if they made an effort to at least tolerate you.”

“You can't control other people, love,” Draco murmured into Harry's hair, arms tightening around his back. “Je promets tout ira bien. I promise everything will be okay.”

Harry nodded into his shoulder and heaved in breaths, clinging onto Draco's robes.

“Baby, you'll be all right. It's all going to be fine, yeah? I don't need their approval to have feelings for you. And I don't need their approval to act on those feelings.” Draco planted a kiss on Harry's head. Harry moved his face and his nose brushed Draco's neck. Draco shivered and his breathing halted.

Interesting.

Harry experimentally kissed the spot right above the start of Draco's collarbone again. Draco let out a shaky breath. “Harry.”

Harry hummed and did it again. Draco's arms tightened around him. Harry's tongue poked out and curiously laved over the spot. Draco's hands shot up to his hair and pulled lightly, making Harry look him in the eyes. Draco's face was flushed, his grey eyes dilated, and he was breathing heavily.

So that's why he always diverted Harry when Harry tried to go after his neck. “This is a turn-on for you,” Harry realized. Draco's blush only deepened.

“Harry, we don't have time…”

Harry sighed and frowned. “Fine. But you owe me when we get back after hols.” He stood on his tiptoes to kiss Draco slowly. “Thank you.” Draco rose an eyebrow.

“For?”

“Listening. Being there. I dunno, everything?” Draco smiled fondly at him. To Harry's surprise, he reached down and picked him up by the arse, Harry flailing for half a second before wrapping his legs around Draco's slim waist and latching his ankles together. Draco looked up at Harry and kissed a soft trail of tiny kisses from his jaw that led to Harry's shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and kissed his forehead. “They don't understand. They don't see you like this.”

“Yes, well, I don't care what your friends think of me. I couldn't be arsed to care about their opinions on something that hasn't anything to do with them,” Draco scoffed. “Your friends are utter Gryffindor arseholes.” Harry rose an eyebrow.

“You're a Pureblood Slytherin prat,” he reminded, “don't forget.”

“Oh, yes,” Draco chuckled, “I'll never forget that. Gryffindor ponce.”

Harry laughed. “Slytherin git,” he shot back.

“Saviour.”

“Posh blond.”

“Tu es trop fou pour moi,” Draco said in a joking tone. “You're too crazy for me.” Harry leaned back slightly and cuffed him on the shoulder playfully. They laughed. “Je t'aime. Je t'adore. Tu est parfait.”

“Did you just call me yogurt?” Harry twisted his face in confusion. Draco chuckled.

“No, I didn't. I called you perfect,” he replied, amused.

“Hm. I'm not, but thank you,” Harry mumbled. He leaned forward and kissed Draco, biting his bottom lip lightly before pulling back to look at Draco's reaction. Draco tried to follow Harry's lips and Harry smiled before kissing him again. “Two weeks,” he sighed in defeat.

“Don't you forget about me, Potter,” Draco hummed, releasing his arms from under Harry's arse and letting Harry's legs drop to the ground. Harry grinned.

“I dunno, Malfoy, I just might,” he replied. “I mean… have you seen Charlie Weasley?” Draco growled in the back of his throat and brought Harry's body flush against his own by the hips.

“You aren't going to talk to Charlie Weasley at all. I don't want you to look at him, talk to him, and you can't touch him.” He got very close and murmured in Harry's ear. “You're mine now, Potter, and I don't like sharing.” Harry's chin rested on Draco's shoulder, Draco's body essentially curled around his own, hugging him tightly and pressing their fronts together. His cheek pressed against Harry's. Harry exhaled a shaky breath when Draco reached down to palm his arse in both hands.

“Draco…”

“Do you understand? I don't want him near you,” Draco ordered lowly. Harry swallowed and nodded. Draco dropped a soft kiss against Harry's lips, hands moving back up to cradle his face. Harry grabbed one of Draco's hands and kissed his knuckles, lips brushing the Malfoy crest ring that rested on his left ring finger.

“I won't forget about you,” he murmured. Draco pulled him into a tight hug and rested his chin on Harry's head. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's back. “Why do you always smell so good?” he asked. Draco shook with quiet laughter. Harry shivered after a moment.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” Harry admitted. Draco moved one hand away from him and a few seconds later something soft was pressing into Harry's side. He looked over at it and saw a light grey sweatshirt, complete with a hood, a pocket, and drawstrings. “Is this yours?”

“No, it's Blaise’s,” Draco replied sarcastically. “Yes, it's mine, you dummy. Put it on.” Harry nodded and slipped it over his head. It went halfway past his thighs and the sleeves covered his hands.

“I think it's a bit big,” he said sheepishly.

“It looks good on you,” Draco answered. “The snake on it brings out your eyes.”

Harry looked down at the front and noticed there was indeed a coiled up snake on the front. “This is subtle,” he commented.

“Very.”

“You have now given me the right to officially call you my boyfriend.”

“I was already doing that, but yes, I suppose now that you have my sweater we are the perfect stereotypical couple now.”

The train lurched and Draco bit his lip. “We have to go.” He kissed Harry's forehead before starting to walk away.

“Wait—” Draco paused at Harry's words and turned around. “I'm not giving this back, I'll have you know.” Draco grinned and kissed his cheek before leaving. Harry returned to his compartment with Hermione and Ron, stubbornly ignoring Hermione and sparing Ron a glance. Ron gave him an apologetic look and Harry mouthed, later. Ron nodded.

After getting settled into the Burrow, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all trapped in Ron's bedroom together, Harry turned to Hermione.

“I'm so sorry, Harry!” she cried. “I didn't mean to offend you or Malfoy, I just—”

“Care about me and want what's best for me?” Harry finished for her. She nodded eagerly. “I know. I'm sorry I got upset.” He held out his arms in invitation and she ran into him, bushy hair tickling Harry's neck. Harry grinned at Ron, who was raising an eyebrow. "Are you wanting a hug, too, Ron?" he teased.

Ron seemed taken off guard by the question but after a moment, he said, "of course. What do you mean, 'do I want a hug.'" He scoffed. "I always want a hug." He walked up and wrapped his arms around Harry and Hermione's back and rested his head on her shoulder, sandwiching her between him and Harry.

"I love you guys," Harry scoffed. "Dorks."

"We love you too, Harry."

"Yeah, even if you're dating the Ferret."

They all laughed.

"And Harry?" Hermione said as an afterthought, "you're the dork."

"Yes, but we don't want Ron to know that," he stage-whispered.

"Shut up, Harry." Ron shoved his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Harry. Harry grinned and rested his head atop Hermione's.

Chapter Text

Three Days Until Christmas

Harry woke up to a loud knocking on Ron's bedroom door.

“Damn, okay! I'm coming! Gimme a sec!” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and threw the door open. “It's nine thirty in the morning! What do you guys want?” he asked the twins exasperatedly.

“Someone's here to see you, mate,” Fred urged. Harry frowned and walked down the staircase, hands stuffed in the pocket of the sweater Draco had given him.

He was suddenly very awake when he saw who was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in his hand, talking to Arthur solemnly.

“Draco?” he asked softly, voice carrying over the oddly quiet living room. Draco looked over and stood, setting his teacup down. Harry ran to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and grinning when Draco picked him up slightly off the floor with strong arms around his waist.

After a moment, realization dawned on Harry. He pulled away and Draco set him back down. “You're here. Why are you—are you okay? What's happened? Why aren't you at the Manor?”

“Is there anywhere we can talk privately?” Draco asked. “I need to speak to you alone.” Harry swallowed nervously.

“Yeah. We can go to the backyard.” He led Draco through the kitchen and to the back, shutting the door behind them. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” Draco admitted. He sat further from Harry than he usually would. Harry started to panic. Was this it? Was this when Draco would tell him it was over? Sorry, Potter, it's just not working. You're not good enough. Too clingy. I decided I'm going to try it with a girl, not disgrace my family by dating you.

“What's going on, love?” Harry whispered. Draco didn't look him in the eyes and dug a divot into the dirt with the tip of his wand.

“My father… I was just told that—” He broke off with a shaky breath. “Fuck, I told myself I wouldn't cry.” Draco recomposed himself for a moment before continuing. “I've just been informed that I'm scheduled to—take the Mark this summer.”

They sat in silence, Harry processing this information.

“Say something,” Draco pleaded after a moment. Harry swallowed.

“Please don't,” he said softly.

“Harry—”

“I know I have no right to—to tell you what to do with your life, with your body, but…”

“But—but—I don't even have a logical reason, I just know you. I know you hate everything Voldemort stands for, I know you're trying to be a better person, I know who you are… you're not your father.”

“Don't talk about my father like that,” Draco snapped, jaw clenched. Harry winced.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that,” he mumbled.

“No. You shouldn't have,” Draco agreed tightly. Harry hugged his torso, knees coming up to trap his arms against his own stomach. Tears unnecessarily pooled in his eyes and he forced himself to blink them away.

After several moments of severely uncomfortable silence, Draco moved closer to Harry and pulled him into an embrace.

“I know you're trying to help, baby, I do,” he murmured. Harry tucked himself further under Draco's arm. “I’m—fuck—I don't know what to do. I want my father to be proud of me… but I think he's asked too much this time.”

“You're not even of age,” Harry said softly. “You can't legally make your own life decisions… he's taking advantage of that law. You're his son. And a rather brilliant one, at that. If he's not already proud of you because you're attractive, and smart, and a million other things that would take me hours to say, then maybe you should focus on being proud of yourself and not worry about your father being proud of you.”

Draco lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug before dropping it again. “Maybe. It's just difficult. I've grown up with all of these traditions, and beliefs. To realize that they're wrong, that my whole upbringing has been… medieval, and that what mum and dad said really means nothing, that those laws and beliefs don't apply to the modern world. It's a lot to take in. It's a lot to unlearn everything. And then to relearn it all in another light…”

“I get it, Draco, I understand what you mean.”

The couple sat in silence for a minute before Harry spoke again.

“When Voldemort murdered my parents, guardianship of me was supposed to be passed to my godfather. Sirius Black. I'm sure you remember him.” Draco nodded softly, cheek resting atop Harry's head.

“But since every piece of evidence of the cause of my parents’ murders pointed to him, he got chucked in Azkaban. So… I was entrusted by Dumbledore to my aunt and uncle.” Harry burrowed as close to his boyfriend as physically possible.

“I got put in a cupboard probably from day one of being left on their doorstep.” Harry heard Draco repeat the words under his breath, ‘cupboard’ and ‘doorstep’. “It's very likely I never even got held as a baby.” Draco held him tighter at this.

“Petunia was my mother's sister. A Muggle. Mum was the only witch in her side of the family.” Draco nodded immediately, leaving Harry feeling guilty at expecting a harsher reaction from him at his mother's blood status. “Vernon is her husband. They have a son named Dudley. My cousin.

“It's hard to call them family because they treat me more like a rat that they can't get out of their house than their nephew. I get two-minute showers every other day. If I stay in longer they turn the water freezing cold until I got out. They won't let me eat with them; I always eat in my room. Sometimes I'm not able to eat at all. Not always because I'd been particularly bothersome that day, but because I existed.

“They've locked me in my cupboard for days at a time, with no food or water or showers. I couldn't leave under any circumstance. I was locked in. The door was padlocked closed.

“I am—essentially—a house-elf to them whenever I'm there. Think of any chore, I do it. Cleaning the floor with bleach until it sparkles. Washing dishes. Scrubbing the couch. Washing the bathtub.

“I make food, clean up afterward. If I don’t do something perfectly, I get punished.” Draco moved away and looked at him worriedly. “I get pushed around a lot. Petunia’s form of showing displeasure is mostly harsh, jeweled backhands to my face that leave it stinging for hours. She particularly enjoys when her rings cut my cheek and make it bleed.

“Vernon likes throwing things. The first heavy thing he can get his hands on. I quickly learned to duck from flying objects. Dudley is big enough that he could easily sit on me until I pass out. He likes to rough me up, bruise me a bit. Sometimes break a few bones. Until I was eleven, until Hagrid knocked down the door and personally handed me my Hogwarts acceptance letter on my birthday, I had to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Draco traced the side of Harry's face with the light pads of his fingertips. Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting touch. “Harry,” Draco whispered. He made an odd, choked humming noise in the back of his throat. “Where do they live?” Harry's eyes flew open.

“No, absolutely not,” he immediately denied. “I'm not telling you that.”

“I promised you—”

“You can keep your promise in another way. I don't want you getting into trouble with the ministry for murdering Muggles.”

“I'm sure they'd understand. I’m protecting their beloved golden boy, after all.” Draco's eyes held a sort of fiery determination that made Harry realize just how lucky he was to have such an amazing boyfriend. “Je t'adore,” Draco suddenly murmured the odd phrase again, pressing their foreheads together and looking Harry in the eyes, “it means I love you.”

Harry practically jumped on Draco, straddling his legs, and grabbed his face to kiss him enthusiastically. The sheer force of this gesture nearly toppled Draco over. “Say it again,” Harry requested breathlessly, between kisses. Draco's arms circled Harry's waist and pulled him close. “Draco, say it again.”

“I love you,” Draco repeated. Harry nodded quickly and smiled before kissing him again with a quiet whine of satisfaction in the back of his throat.

“Hate to break up what seems like a smashing reunion of lovebirds,” Fred startled them out of their kiss, “but mum says lunch is on and that Malfoy's invited to stay as long as he wants.” He winked at Harry, who blushed, before walking back inside.

“Mm, well, it seems the twins like you enough,” Harry commented.

“But there was only one of them, Harry,” Draco pointed out with a frown.

“If one twin likes you, the other will as well,” Harry explained with a shrug. “Must be a twin thing. They're practically the same person split in two. Finish each other's sentences, finish each other's classes, finish each other's homework—”

“Finish each other off?” Draco added unhelpfully. Harry choked.

“Draco!” he scolded, cheeks burning. Draco just grinned and they stood up, walking back into the house. “Look, about the whole Mark business, if you decide to not take it and you need to stay somewhere else, just come here. You'd have to share either the twins’ room or Ron's with me and him, but I'd rather you be here and safe than with people who would hurt you. Just make your decision on your own. I don't want you to feel forced either way.”

Draco nodded to him, a smile playing at his lips. “Thank you.”

They sat down at the table, Harry to Draco's right and George to his left. “Hey, Malfoy, have you tried any of our products yet? I hear Slytherins are quite the pranksters.”

Harry snorted. “You have no room to talk, George,” he reminded helpfully. George grinned. Draco chuckled.

“Actually, I have. I owled a whole Bertie's box full of your Puking Pastilles to Ernie Macmillan one day. He ate half the box in one swallow. Threw up all over Hufflepuff table.” The twins and Draco snickered. Harry's mouth dropped open, and he shoved Draco's shoulder lightly.

“That was you? That had the whole Gryffindor and Hufflepuff side of the Hall smelling terrible for weeks!” He scrunched his nose at the memory. Draco grinned and grabbed Harry's hand under the table.

“Collateral damage, darling,” he shrugged. Harry rolled his eyes.

Lunch passed normally enough, if just a bit more tense than usual, but Harry suspected that was mostly because the Weasleys didn't know what to talk to Draco about.

“Oh!” Harry said suddenly after they were all crammed in the Weasley's living room. He and Draco sat on the floor in front of the full sofa, Harry essentially in his lap. Harry stood up and dragged Draco with him towards the stairs, stopping in his tracks when he heard dog whistles and catcalls behind them. “Hey, it's not like that, I just want to give him the Christmas present I have for him.”

Fred rose an eyebrow and Harry blushed. “No.”

“Uh-huh.” Fred rolled his eyes. “Go on then; christen Ronnie's room.”

Draco sighed. “It's terribly uncouth to do something like that when Harry’s family is in the house.” He wove his hand dramatically. “Another time, another place.” He pulled Harry up the stairs and let him lead the way.

Harry opened the door to Ron's room and immediately sat on his knees and bent over to grab Draco's gift, looking under the bed for the neatly wrapped box. His sweatshirt slid up his back and pooled under his arms, exposing his torso to the drafty air.

A sudden warm hand on his back startled him and made him jump, hitting his spine painfully on the frame of the bed. He crawled out from under it, a silver gift in hand, with a scowl at Draco.

Draco looked at him, obviously trying to contain a laugh. His efforts failed quickly, and he pulled Harry into a comforting hug, chuckling.

“Oh—love, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he laughed, rubbing a warm hand up and down Harry's back. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Geez, Malfoy, trying to kill me already?” he added sarcastically. Draco pulled back and grabbed the sides of Harry's face, looking into his eyes seriously.

“You know I wouldn’t, right?” he asked. “That no matter what happens, or what changes, or anything, I'll never hurt you?”

Harry kissed him. “I know. Here,” he handed Draco the silver-wrapped package. Draco rose an elegantly groomed eyebrow and opened it slowly, carefully peeling the packaging where it was taped—the Muggle way, something Harry never got out of habit—and unfolding the edges painfully slow. Harry started to get anxious because of it.

“Harry, I would love to say it's perfect, but frankly, I'm not exactly sure what it is,” Draco said after finishing unwrapping it, inspecting the cardboard box curiously.

“It's a Polaroid camera,” Harry explained, moving closer. “It's Muggle but has charms on it to work like other Wizarding cameras. It's a little ridiculous but I remember you saying you wanted something meaningful and another time where you wished cameras could immediately produce photos, and this camera does that. It's charmed so that the photos move, as well, just like Wizarding photographs.”

“I love it, Harry,” Draco said, chastely kissing Harry's nose. He took the camera from the box and brought it up to his eye, pointing it at Harry. Harry blushed, covering his eyes with the sleeves of his—well, Draco's—sweatshirt. “Oh, come on, let me see your face.” Harry shook his head. “You give me an instant camera, and then are surprised when I want my first picture to be of my boyfriend?”

Harry dropped his hands into his crossed lap. He looked up at Draco, blushing furiously. He smiled when Draco kissed his forehead. A clicking noise went off and Harry turned his face, covering his laugh with his sleeved palm. “You're an arse,” he murmured into his hand.

“Mm. That I am,” Draco agreed, kissing Harry's cheek. “Come on, let's go back downstairs.” They stood up and walked down the stairs. Harry watched Draco put the Polaroid photo of Harry blushing and turning his head from the camera in his coat pocket.

“Well, hello, how was the alone time, you two?” George yelled suggestively. Harry blushed. Again.

“George Weasley!” Molly scolded, throwing a balled up tea towel in his direction scoldingly.

George and Fred both grinned and said, “sorry, mum,” in unison. Draco leaned into Harry's ear.

“They really are like the same person,” he realized. Harry nodded.

Molly stood up and clambered over dozens of children's feet to Harry and Draco. “I'm so sorry, dears,” she scoffed fondly, shaking her head, “they’re being so crude. Forgive the manners, you seem like a very polite young man.”

“He's not always like this, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry assured her. “Just around new people, apparently.” Molly chuckled and Draco elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“Actually, I should be going back home,” Draco said. “I’d love to stay, really, but I told my mum I was going on a walk, and I've been here a while.” Harry followed him to the door.

“Draco,” he whispered, taking his hand, “choose for yourself, yeah?” Harry smiled sadly. “Choose because it's what you believe. Choose a side because that's what you think is right. Don't let yourself get pressured into anything.”

“I won't,” Draco replied quietly. “I love you.” He kissed Harry quickly and squeezed his hand before looking at Molly. “It was lovely getting to know you all, Mrs. Weasley. Harry really does have the best family he could.”

Molly surprisingly moved to hug him, and Draco surprisingly returned it with ease. Harry smiled softly at the sight.

“Watch out, Draco,” he hummed, “They've adopted you into the family now. Mrs. Weasley will hug you any time she sees you.”

“Well then, I suppose I'll have to see you more often,” Draco replied warmly. “I'll see you all around.” He went to kiss Harry's forehead again. “Don't forget about me, Potter,” he warned. Harry rolled his eyes.

“You never know, Malfoy,” he mused with a grin. Draco scrunched up his nose and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him outside and away for a moment. “Draco?”

Draco kissed him again. Harry kissed back and his hands found the sides of Draco's face.

It was slower; not chaste or rushed, just a soft kiss that had Harry feeling like he was floating.

When Draco pulled back he tucked a strand of hair behind Harry's ear. The simple sweet gesture had Harry blushing as he returned his hands to the pocket of his sweater.

Draco sighed. “You're turning me into a Hufflepuff, Harry Potter.” Harry grinned and Draco whipped out the Polaroid to take another picture.

“Draco!” he sighed. Draco hummed and placed that photo in his pocket as well.

“I really have to go back home,” he said regretfully. “I—” He broke off and shrugged helplessly.

“Go on, then. I don't want you getting in trouble,” Harry replied. “Just don't forget about me.” Draco grinned and kissed his head.

“Never, Scarhead.”

With that, he Apparated away and left Harry standing on the Weasley’s porch alone. Harry walked back into the house, rubbing his silver bracelet fondly with a faint smile.

“We saw that kiss, mate,” Fred called when Harry walked back to the living room. “Malfoy's really got you, hasn't he?”

“Personally,” Hermione interjected, “I thought the kiss that he gave Harry on the top of his head was better than the snog.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said, relieved. She nodded promptly.

“I'm sorry about doubting it, mate,” Ron spoke up, “it's just a bit hard to wrap my head around. I mean, it's weird that one minute you don't like Malfoy, and the next you're dating him.” Hermione nodded again.

“He's trying to be better,” Harry replied softly. “The reason he was here today was that he's just been told that Lucius wants him to take the Dark Mark.”

“What?!” the whole room screeched at once. The following cries were outraged.

“He's just a boy!” Molly cried.

“This is Malfoy we're talking about! He's too posh to put something like that on his skin!” Ron scoffed.

“He's only fifteen! He'll be forced to do it if his father wants him to!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Lucius Malfoy needs to stop trying to control Draco. He's a child, not a dog,” Bill added.

“Honestly. That's the worst kind of taking advantage of the underage wizard laws.” Percy scolded. And for once, Harry had to agree with him.

“I've never liked Lucius Malfoy, but telling his fifteen-year-old that he'll be taking You-Know-Who’s Mark and not giving him a choice… I've more than half a mind to go turn him into the Wizengamot at once,” Mr. Weasley grumbled.

“I just wish he had an option, to do what he wanted to,” Harry mumbled. Ron and Hermione walked over to him and wrapped him in a group hug. He felt two more bodies wrap around him, and he concurred that he had the twins, and his two best friends piled around him. More weight came in from all sides and Harry suspected that he had a whole-family Weasley hug on his hands.

Later, in bed, Harry and Ron were talking to each other with the lights out, lying next to each other on the bottom bunk that Harry used during his stay at the Burrow.

“D'you think he's gonna get it?” Harry asked in the long pause that followed Quidditch conversation. “Do you think that he'll take the Mark because his dad wants him to?”

“I think that You-Know-Who is a manipulative bastard and that if Malfoy doesn't willingly take the Dark Mark, he'll find a way to threaten him into taking it. Malfoy isn't a Gryffindor, Harry, and if he gets scared enough he'll probably do something to save himself.” Harry sighed heavily.

“I told him not to let himself be coerced either way, but I don't know. I don't want him to be hurt, or worse.”

“Expelled?” Ron wondered in amusement. They laughed.

“I was wondering… do you think your parents would be okay with me going to visit Sirius tomorrow? Just for a few hours? I have to talk to him and Remus about some things. The whole dating-Draco-Malfoy thing being one of them,” Harry said.

“They won't care,” Ron replied. “As long as Sirius makes sure you don't die, but you'll be fine.” He nudged Harry's shoulder. “Mate, you know that none of us care, right? I mean, I'm not sure if any of us, except maybe Percy, are completely straight. So, if that's been weighing on you, we don't care whether you like blokes or girls or nobody at all, or other people who identify as whatever. It is a bit of a shock that you're dating the ferret, but we'll get over it eventually. And, if he ever hurts you he'll have a whole group of rabid Weasleys set on him.” Harry grinned.

“You don't think you're straight?” he asked.

“I mean… I dunno, I've noticed other… blokes before, and found them attractive,” Ron gestured his hands awkwardly in the air.

“Well,” Harry turned his head to look at Ron's face, “there's a difference between finding someone attractive and being attracted to them. Like, for instance, I think that Hermione’s attractive, but I'm not in any way attracted to her. Or… I can say that Blaise Zabini is nice-looking, but I'd never do him.”

“You're just saying that because you've got a boyfriend,” Ron scoffed.

“Why? Would you do Blaise?” Harry teased. Ron shoved his shoulder.

“Shove off, Harry!” he groaned. “I mean… I guess… he's… his skin looks really soft,” he admitted with a choppy shrug. “And he has really nice eyes, and when he does that little half-smirk it’s really…” Ron trailed off.

“Is the word you're looking for, ‘hot,’ Ron?” Harry supplied.

“Err… yeah.”

“Huh. So you'd shag Blaise?”

“I mean… if I wanted to try it with a bloke, y—yeah, I guess,” Ron stammered. Harry rose an eyebrow.

“You know how it works, right? The dynamic of what goes whe—”

“Yes, Harry, I know how sex works,” Ron interrupted. Harry shrugged.

“Well, I’m glad you’re coming to terms with your sexuality, then, Ron,” he chuckled. Ron shoved his shoulder again, and he nearly fell off the twin bed.

“I’m going to bed, mate, shut up about my hypothetical crush on Blaise Zabini.” He climbed up to the top bed.

“So you admit it!” Harry crowed triumphantly. “It is a crush!”

Ron groaned loudly.

Chapter Text

“Sirius?” Harry yelled across the house. “Are you here? I need to tell you something!”

“Prongslet? I'm upstairs! Come on up!” Harry tread up the staircase of Number 12 Grimmauld Place and was met with a bone-crushing hug from Sirius when he turned a corner.

“Hey, little James! How's my favorite godson?” the man asked happily. Harry smiled into the hug.

“I'm good, Sirius,” he replied honestly, “I'm really good.”

“Oh?” Sirius pulled from the hug. “You sound like a man in love, Harry.” Harry blushed.

“I actually want to tell you a couple of things, if you have time.”

“Of course. Hey, Remus! Harry's here!” Sirius called behind himself. Remus emerged from a room a few doors down the hall with a yawn. He looked up and grinned when he saw Harry, increasing his walking speed to hug him tightly.

“Harry, what a lovely surprise,” he said brightly, “what brings you here? You should have called first; we would have cleaned up the house a bit to make it more presentable.” Harry shrugged guiltily, and Remus shook his head. “Ah, well, it's no matter. I'm glad you're here.”

“D'you have a sitting room we could go into? ” Harry asked.

“Is everything all right, Prongslet?” Sirius asked, guiding him down a hallway and into a very lavish sitting room.

“This is… a really nice room,” Harry observed. Sirius shrugged.

“I couldn't give less of a damn about it, but Kreacher insists on keeping it clean and it was the closest sitting room to where we were. What do you have to say?”

Harry looked between Sirius and Remus. Then at his hands. “Well, I… I'm… I like—god fucking dammit, this is difficult to say—”

“Language, Harry,” Remus scoffed fondly, shaking his head. “Good Lord, who taught you to swear like that?”

Sirius burst out laughing. “Harry,” he chuckled, having trouble recomposing himself. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. “Okay. Sorry—sorry. Take as long as you need. No pressure.”

“Well, I—I'm… bi?” Harry said after a moment, voice rising into a question for no reason at all. “And—and I'm kind of… seeing someone—a—a boy, I'm dating a boy from school, and—” He broke off awkwardly, cheeks fuming very hot. He burrowed further into Draco's sweatshirt.

“I love this kid,” Sirius announced suddenly. “Best damn godson ever.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You were under no obligation to let either of us into this part of your life, and you still did. And even though it's a hard discussion for you to have, you still told us. It shows you respect us, and respect goes both ways,” Remus explained. Harry smiled and accepted the hug that Sirius offered.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“So, who's the lucky bloke?” Remus asked. Harry played with the hem of his sweater.

“Draco Malfoy,” he mumbled.

“Who? Harry, you're very quiet,” Sirius said.

“Um—” Harry cleared his throat, “Draco Malfoy,” he repeated, louder. Sirius rose an eyebrow.

“My little cousin?” he hummed thoughtfully. “And he's good to you?” Harry nodded. Sirius looked to Remus. “Well, as long as he treats you well and you have a healthy relationship, I can't say anything about it. I'll admit, it's a very unexpected pairing, you two, but… if it works, it works, I suppose, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, “just make sure to be honest with each other always.”

“Actually, I talked to Draco the other day,” Sirius remembered. “Remus was out doing… something, I don't know, when suddenly my wards went off and a Malfoy was trying to get through. Thought it was Narcissa at first, honestly, before I saw who it was. Draco explained everything to me. Poor kid. Lucius is still mental.”

“Do you—do you know if he’s going to take the Mark?”

“Not sure, Harry. He didn’t seem to want to, he was muttering about someone… ‘him.’ He kept pacing about and babbling incoherently about how he couldn't because he'd be letting ‘him’ down. Maybe he was talking about you.”

Kreacher cracked into the room. “Young master Malfoy is downstairs, blood traitor and werewolf filth,” he spat. “Young master Malfoy requested I retrieve you. Master Malfoy is distressed.” He cracked out of the room again and Harry stood up instantly, making for the door. Sirius grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“Wait here, Harry,” he prompted.

“What—if Draco's upset, he'll want to see me! I can calm him down. I can help,” Harry protested. “Sirius, please.” The man hesitated for a moment before nodding and Harry took off down the stairs, skipping steps.

Draco looked up and blinked rapidly. “Harry? What are you—where's Sirius?”

“Draco, what day did we start dating?” Harry asked softly.

“The ninth of October, why?”

“And what did you say on the train? When we were talking about collections? What did you say about me?”

“That you were one of a kind, but not because you survived the Killing Curse, because you're an idiot, and the only person I've ever really cared about,” Draco replied in confusion. “What is this about?”

“One more thing. What's the thing you always say? The word that I can't understand, and you told me what it meant yesterday?”

“Je t'adore. Harry, what are you doing?”

“I just—had to be sure. Draco, what's wrong?” Harry asked.

“It's—it's nothing, Harry, I need to see Sirius,” Draco answered. “Sirius?”

“I'm coming, little cousin!” Sirius called. He walked down the stairs and set a hand on Draco's shoulder. “How's it at home? Is anyone giving you a hard time?”

Harry looked at the full bag slung over Draco's shoulder and the trunk at his feet. “You're leaving,” he realized. Draco ran a hand through his loose blond hair and nodded. “Are you going to stay at the Burrow for the rest of hols?”

“I don't know… I don't want to be a bother and I was thinking that I should find somewhere more permanent because I won't be going back to the Manor at all,” Draco replied with a shrug. “I do like the Weasleys, but I was a bit overwhelmed yesterday. It's a lot to take in and adjust to.”

Harry's face fell ever so slightly. Draco caught on, because he then said, “Or if you prefer—”

“No!” Harry cut him off, attempting to reassure him. All he really did was make Draco jump. “No it's fine, I understand what you mean, I didn't mean to make you feel obligated to stay. It was just an option, I'm sorry if I made it seem like something else.”

“I'm gonna give you two a minute.” Sirius patted Draco's shoulder and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

“I didn't make you choose, did I?” Harry asked quietly. “I didn't—you're not making this choice because of me, are you?” He took a step backward. “Did you—”

“No, Harry!” Draco cut him off. He grabbed Harry's arms lightly and looked him in the eye. “Well, yes, but—”

“I said don't make a choice because of me! Fuck, and that's what you did, I didn't want you to choose because of anything other than what you thought was right.” Harry looked to his side and avoided looking at Draco.

“Harry, let me talk,” Draco said softly, cradling Harry's face in his hands and turning it to make Harry look at him. “I chose not to take the Mark because I promised to never hurt you, not because you asked me to not take it. I chose because I'm not going to be on the losing side of a war where the leader wants to kill you. I love you, you blind idiot, and I'm doing this for you, not because of you.”

“But the reason that you chose is still me,” Harry replied with a hoarse voice, eyes watering. “What if you decide later that you made the wrong choice because of me and you regret it?”

“Harry,” Draco sighed in exasperation. “I could never be on that side knowing that I’d have to hurt you someday. No matter what kind of shit we go through, I'm fucking here for you. It's done. I've made my choice. And I'll never regret it.” He rolled his eyes. “You've turned me into a Hufflepuff.”

“But—”

“Merlin, Harry, be quiet and listen!” Draco interrupted, seemingly frustrated. “I'm not regretting choosing your side of this war because doing that means I'm regretting being with you. And I don't.”

Harry wiped his cheeks with his sleeves and wrapped his arms loosely around Draco's waist. “Okay.” He smiled uneasily.

“Okay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.” Draco kissed his forehead.

“Anyone want tea?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

Sitting on the sofa, a white cat jumped up on Harry’s lap and chirruped. It yawned and curled up in a ball, glaring at Harry until he started petting it.

“Who’s this, Sirius?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, that’s Freddie,” Sirius mused. “He loves chin scratches.” Harry curiously scratched right under Freddie’s mouth, and the cat did nothing. Just blinked at him with confused blue eyes.

“Umm…” Harry stopped doing it. “I think I did it wrong.” Draco sighed from beside him and moved Harry’s hand gently out of the way.

“Like this, love.” He started running his fingertips lightly against the front of Freddie’s neck, and the white fluffy cat started purring again and nuzzling against Draco’s hand. Harry rose an eyebrow.

“That’s his neck!” he exclaimed. Draco snickered and slid off the couch, onto his knees on the floor. The cat looked at him and placed a paw on his cheek. Draco’s face split into a grin.

“Well, hello,” he cooed. He picked Freddie up from Harry’s lap and stood up, cradling it in his arms like one would with a baby. “You’re so cute, yes you are, aren’t you, Freddie?”

The cat just meowed.

“Mm. Such a handsome kitty,” Draco hummed softly. He rubbed Freddie’s belly and Freddie purred loudly.

“I really have turned you into a Hufflepuff,” Harry said thoughtfully. Draco looked up and arched an eyebrow. Harry glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he’d been at Grimmauld Place for over two hours. “I should get going. I need to wrap Hermione’s gifts before tomorrow.” He stood up and hugged Sirius, stroked Freddie’s fur, and glared at Draco for good measure before kissing him on the cheek. “Replaced by a goddamn cat,” he muttered. Harry turned to Sirius. “Can I use your Floo?”

“Go right ahead, Harry,” Sirius answered with a grin.

“That’s all I get?” Draco pouted.

“You chose a cat over me,” Harry replied blandly. Draco placed the cat on the couch and kissed Harry on the lips firmly.

“I’m sorry. Am I forgiven?” he murmured.

“Mm… no,” Harry decided, grinning when Draco frowned.

“Harry,” Sirius coaxed, “I’m going to let Draco stay here for the rest of the holidays, you can come to visit anytime, but you should get home if you don’t want Hermione to find the gift you need to wrap.”

“You don’t need to let me—” Draco started to say.

“No, of course, you’ll stay here, don’t be ridiculous.” Sirius waved his hand at nothing and continued, “you’re my cousin and you won’t be staying in any trashy hotels as long as I have this house.” Draco smiled brightly, and Harry’s stomach jumped and did a flip at the sight. It was just a smile, he should not have been so affected by it.

“Y—yeah, I’m going to go,” Harry murmured. “I’ll see you both soon.” He walked toward the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. “The Weasleys are having a huge dinner on New Years’ Eve. You both should come. Remus, too,” he said before stepping into the fireplace.

“We'll be there, Prongslet,” Sirius confirmed. Harry smiled at them before throwing the Floo powder down and calling out the name of the Burrow.

Chapter Text

Harry stumbled through the Weasleys’ fireplace in their living room and saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting on the couch and drinking tea while holding hands.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley sighed in what sounded like relief. “How was your visit?”

“It was good,” he replied. “Really good.”

“I'm glad the two of them decided to move back into Grimmauld. Maybe they’ll fix it up a bit. Quite gloomy, that house,” Mr. Weasley mused with a little smile.

“Yeah. Ron and Hermione?”

“In Ron's room, dear,” Mrs. Weasley hummed softly. Harry nodded and skipped steps up the stairs and burst into Ron's room.

Hermione looked over from where she and Ron were talking at the windowsill and smiled, beckoning Harry over to sit with them. “How was Grimmauld Place?” she asked.

“It was good. I told Sirius and Remus about Draco and I. They took it well. Sirius said it's unexpected but if it works, then he can't say anything about it.”

“It's definitely unexpected, mate,” Ron agreed. “But the ferret does care about you, shocking as that still is to me.”

“I sort of saw it coming, honestly,” Hermione added cautiously.

“Of course you did, you're Hermione,” Ron said.

“I mean, there was always some underlying thing when you two fought.” She shrugged. “And who would climb a tree for someone they hate unless they don't hate them? And remember last year at the Cup? When we saw him, right before you realized your wand was missing. He didn't actually call me a Mudblood. He caught himself, I heard him stumble over his words. He said Muggle-born. And while he made all those buttons dissing you last year, he didn't actually wear one himself.”

Harry mulled over her evidence and nodded in defeat. “Maybe he didn't hate me,” he conceded. He looked over at Ron and felt his throat get scratchy. “He's refusing to take it.”

What, they all knew. Nobody had to ask.

“Did he leave? How do you know?” Ron asked, eyes wide.

“He showed up at Grimmauld Place with his bag basically overflowing. Said he was leaving and Sirius is letting him stay with them for a while.”

“So, he's not taking it?” Hermione clarified. Harry shook his head, and she took his hand in her own. “That's good, Harry. That's really good.” He squeezed her hand gratefully and smiled.

“Now, as much as I love talking to you, Hermione, I need you to leave the room, because I need to wrap your Christmas present.” Hermione scoffed and shook her head, but stood up nonetheless.

“All right then,” she replied fondly, “you two be boys. I'll be with Ginny in her room.”

After she was gone, Harry set to work wrapping her gift in shiny, holographic wrapping paper with small pictures of Wizarding mistletoe growing from random places.

“So,” Ron said suddenly, “do you love him?” Harry paused and frowned thoughtfully.

“I mean, I definitely could see myself doing so,” he replied honestly. “I haven't said it yet, but… I really want to mean it when I do.” He looked up at Ron from where he sat on the floor by Hermione’s now-wrapped gift. “You have no idea who he really is, Ron.”

“Apparently not, mate,” Ron agreed in amusement. “Wanna tell me?”

“He's not like how you think he is. He's not like how he was. He's nice. He cares, a lot. He's funny, and comforting, smart, and witty. His smile, Ron. And his eyes. Just—everything. Did you know he has dimples? His hair is so soft, and sometimes he hums quietly when he's doing homework.”

“It sounds like you're already in love,” Ron said honestly, with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to know about him, not hear you gush. Bloody Hufflepuff.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Harry exclaimed. “He loves cats. Sirius has one named Freddie, and Draco was just petting him and giving him love, it was adorable.”

“Merlin's balls, Harry,” Ron groaned, “I love you mate and I'm happy that you're happy, but honestly if you tell me one more time about how bloody perfect Draco Malfoy is, I'm going to hit you.”

Harry snorted. “Sorry, Ron,” he snickered. Ron rolled his eyes.

“Why is ‘Mione's gift so big?”

Harry shrugged. “I splurged on books for her,” he replied. “Arithmancy, Transfiguration, and Charms, mostly, ‘cause those are her favorite subjects, but there are also some Advanced Potions and Magical Creatures books in there as well.”

“Blimey, she'll be getting quite a lot of books for Christmas, then,” Ron said with a grin. “I'm pretty sure we all got her studying material and parchment and such. I got her a huge book that is filled with misspellings that I think she'll love. You're supposed to find them and correct them, and it's around four hundred pages long. And it was surprisingly cheap. I guess nobody wanted to take the time to go through and fix it, but Hermione loves books, correcting things, and schoolwork.”

“I think we did a good job this year, Ron,” Harry decided. “I think everyone will like our gifts.”

“I hope so, Harry.” Ron stood up and clapped his shoulder before walking out of the room.

~~~

“Hey, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry poked his head cautiously into the empty kitchen where Molly Weasley was washing the dining table with a washcloth.

“Hello, Harry,” she said warmly. “Are you having a good stay here this winter?”

“Yes, of course. It's always great to stay at the Burrow with you all.” He paused and looked at her curiously. “Can I help you with cleaning up anything?”

“Oh, no, dear,” she hurried, vanishing the washcloth from her hand. “I've just finished up. You look troubled. What's bothering you?”

“Well…” Harry shifted on his feet and avoided eye contact. “When I was over at Grimmauld Place yesterday, I might have invited Sirius, Remus, and Draco to the New Years’ Eve thing… and they might have agreed to come.” Mrs. Weasley sat in a dining chair and beckoned Harry to sit beside her. He did. “I’m sorry, it was last minute, but I never see Remus or Sirius anymore, and Draco was there, and I—”

“Harry, it’s okay,” she said calmly. “I adore Draco, he’s very charming, and I’d love to see the others again. Anyway, I already over-estimated and bought way too many groceries, since Charlie and Bill can’t come this year, so I’m glad I can put them to use now.” Harry smiled in relief.

“Good. I’m really sorry, again, I didn’t even think about it, I just said it.” Mrs. Weasley rested a comforting hand on his arm.

“I promise, in no way am I upset or distressed because of you inviting them.”

Harry sighed, reassured, and nodded.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day, despite being Christmas Eve, went by like a normal day. The Weasleys didn't have any Christmas Eve traditions, except have turkey for supper.

“Harry, there's a letter for you,” Mr. Weasley said, coming into the living room where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled up on the couch. He handed the pristinely folded parchment over to Harry, who opened it curiously.

Harry,

I know it’s only been quite literally since yesterday that we’ve seen each other, but Christmas always makes me regretfully sappy and I miss you, so I'm writing this letter before common sense takes over again and I chicken out.

I know I've said this before, but I want to explain some things. I love you. And it's incredibly early in a relationship to say that, so I'm going to tell you exactly why I love you already and why I'm grinning like an idiot writing this letter.

You are amazing. Everything about you. You're smart and hardworking, and caring, even about people you don't know. What you did for everyone, starting that DA club in the Room of Requirement, I doubt you even know half those kids. But you still lead them and you teach them because it's the right thing to do and you care.

Harry smiled softly and continued to read.

You're beautiful. I know it's a stereotypically effeminate adjective, but you truly are. The way you smile or talk about something that excites you, or just when you're sleeping. I love how you're short, and the way my sweater is too big on you. I love how you gesture with your hands when you get interested in a topic of discussion. I love how you don't hide your face when you sleep. You always have a faint trace of a smile whenever you're sleeping.

I love your hair. I know I've made fun of it before, but your various cowlicks and random curls are the best to run my fingers through. I love how you melt into my hands when I do so.

I've turned into a bloody sap because of you, Harry Potter. I hope you know that.

I love that when you yawn, or when you wake up, you make a small noise from the back of your throat and you seem unaware of it every time it happens. I hope you know I'm going to be taking lots of pictures of you doing basic, everyday activities and I'm going to be saving them all.

I'm not sure why I am writing this, but I am sure that I will regret it later because I am not one to pour my heart out. Especially on paper where it will be documented for Merlin knows how long.

I love you, and I'll see you New Year's Eve. Merry Christmas.

Draco

Harry couldn't help the grin on his face as he finished reading the letter.

“What's it say?” Ron asked. Harry handed it to him, knowing that it was really nothing terrible. Ron read through it and gave it to Hermione.

Handing back the letter, Hermione smiled. “We honestly did underestimate him, Harry. He really cares about you.” He nodded and neatly folded it back up, putting it in his pocket.

“Yeah. He does,” he agreed. Harry yawned. “I think I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired.” He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. “Goodnight, you two.” He clapped a hand on Ron’s shoulder and leaned down to hug Hermione before walking up the staircase and falling onto the bed. Casting a quick Tempus, Harry saw that it was ten-thirty. He placed Draco’s letter on the side table with his wand, rolled over, and fell asleep.

“Harry! Harry, wake up!”

He awoke to someone shaking him. He turned around and saw Ron in his pyjamas shaking his shoulder. “What?”

“It’s Christmas! Mum wants pictures, she said to wake you up. I’ve already got ‘Mione up, everyone else is downstairs,” Ron hissed. “Get up.”

Harry rolled his eyes and sat up with a yawn.

“Oh, blimey, you do make a tiny noise when you yawn. It’s like a little squeak,” Ron shivered dramatically, and Harry shoved his shoulder.

“I do not squeak,” he said indignantly. Ron shrugged and dragged him out of bed and downstairs where the whole Weasley family was waiting in front of the Christmas tree. Harry yawned again and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Harry, do come over and stand next to Ron and Hermione,” Molly said encouragingly, camera in hand. Harry did as requested and Ron placed him right between him and Hermione, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders casually. Harry wrapped both his arms around his friends’ necks.

“I heard you yawn,” Hermione said softly. “You do make a tiny noise.” Harry groaned and the trio of friends all started laughing right when the camera flashed. Molly chuckled.

“Okay, one more,” she prompted before everyone could sit back down. Harry regained his composure and smiled at the camera, startling when two people rested their heads on his outstretched arms.

“Hey, Harry,” Fred said from Harry’s right.

“You don’t mind, do you?” George asked from Harry’s left. Harry rolled his eyes.

“‘Course not.” He looked back at the camera and shrieked in surprise when he felt a tongue on each of his cheeks, not even noticing Mrs. Weasley take another photo. His arms dropped from around his friends and he ran over to Molly, scrubbing his sleeves over his cheeks. “You guys are terrible!” he cried. The twins laughed and Fred ran towards him. Harry darted away, and he nearly made it through the kitchen before Fred picked him up by the torso and carried him over his shoulder back to the living room.

“Oh, come on, Fred,” Hermione scoffed. “Put Harry down.” Fred shrugged and started to roll Harry off his shoulder in such a manner that would send him toppling to the ground on his arse. Harry clung to Fred’s stomach embarrassingly, not wanting to fall. Fred laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like he wants to be put down, Hermione,” he pointed out.

“I don’t want to be dropped, actually,” Harry grumbled, cursing Fred silently. He thought he saw Hermione blushing out of the corner of his eye. Fred carried him over back to the group of Weasleys and stood beside George, refusing to put Harry back down. At least he was facing the camera and his arse wouldn't be on display for years to come.

“Smile, everyone,” Mrs. Weasley said cheekily. Fred poked Harry in the side and Harry cried out in surprise, letting out a loud bark of laughter. The camera flashed one last time, and then Harry was tossed on the sofa ungraciously.

“Fred!” he yelled, chucking a pillow at the twin. Fred grinned when he caught it and threw it at Hermione. She spluttered and turned red, walking over and proceeding to smack Fred with the pillow repeatedly.

“You're an arse, Fred Weasley,” she reprimanded him, only pausing her abuse when Fred grabbed her wrists and took the pillow from her hands. She spun around and marched off to where Ron sat on the floor to sit beside him with a dark blush.

“Okay!” Mr. Weasley called for order. “Unwrapping gifts time! But first, I want to thank Mr. Potter here for saving my life at the Ministry.” He paused and Harry gave a tight smile, observing the arm sling and various purple bruises on Mr. Weasley's face and neck. “Without him, I probably wouldn't be here today.”

The room was filled with various cheers and hollers, and Harry saw Ginny come to sit next to him on the sofa.

“Hey, Ginny,” he said, gratefully accepting the cup of hot cocoa that Mrs. Weasley offered. “How've you been?”

“I've—I've been okay,” she stuttered quietly. “Listen, I'm really—really sorry about my—about how I reacted—when I saw you and—and Malfoy, I was just shocked.”

“It's fine. I would have had the same reaction.” Harry smiled at her and she sighed, blushing, and looked away.

“Presents, children!” Mrs. Weasley announced, handing one to Hermione. “This is from Fred, dear.”

The gifts began sorting themselves, and after a minute everyone's piles were set in front of whoever they were for.

Fred had gotten Hermione a video camera, “to document everything that you want to remember.” In turn, she and Harry had split the cost of one hundred and fifty WWW logo boxes and bags each for the twins' shop. She had surprisingly utilized her old connection with Viktor Krum to call in a favor to cut a deal with a Wizarding logo company. (Also, Hermione might have mentioned Harry's name in conversation and Harry might have faked searching for her and walking inside the store to look for her as proof. But they didn't tell the Weasleys that.)

“You two didn't have to spend this much on us,” George said after hearing the news that the three hundred packaging materials would be delivered on the 27th to the place they had bought in Diagon Alley.

Harry shrugged. “It was cheap, we both split the cost. Krum was a real help with it all. Hermione really made it all happen, and it was her idea.”

A long time and piles of wrapping paper and uncomfortable enchanted mistletoe kisses later, it was supper. Everyone was wearing their knitted sweaters that Mrs. Weasley made and they were all joking around the table.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, “you're awfully quiet. What's on your mind?” He paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

“Nothing,” Harry answered truthfully, “I'm happy, I'm not really thinking about anything.” He shrugged.

“Wow, Harry,” George commented through a mouthful of potatoes, “Malfoy’s seriously got you wrapped around his finger.”

“He does not,” Harry argued, stabbing his steamed carrot to punctuate his sentence. “He just makes me happy. Can't I be in a good relationship?”

“Whatever, mate,” Fred hummed. “Either way, you're smitten with him, and you would do anything for him.”

“Well, I mean,” Harry scoffed, “not anything.”

“Oh, really? So if he asked you, right now, if you would go with him to Italy for a year, would you?” George countered.

“It's Italy! Of course, I'd go!” he sputtered. “Do you know how amazing that would be?”

“If he were here, and he asked you to be exhibitionist and suck him off under the table right now, would you?”

“What—no! I'm not insane! My family is here!” Harry cried. Everyone at the table had queasy looks or were glaring at George. The twin must have noticed because he cast a silencing spell around himself, Harry, and Fred so that nobody else could hear their conversation.

“What about the other way around, then? If he got under the table, on his knees, and got you off with his mouth, would you be mad?”

“Of course I’d be bloody mad,” Harry replied, “he's already done that, and I was mad.” George rose an eyebrow.

“Do tell,” Fred prompted. “Was it good?”

Harry pouted. “I will not tell, and yes, it was good. Can I continue eating my food now?”

“No,” Fred replied. “Tell me, Harry, if you two had the whole house to yourselves, and Malfoy wanted to bend you over this table and shag your brains out, would you object?”

Harry's face flamed up. “I—I—well—to ourselves?” Fred nodded, smirk playing on his lips. “Then, I guess—I mean—umm…”

“Well, Freddie, there's our answer,” George said cheerfully. “And, Harry, if you were to wake up tomorrow to see Malfoy completely naked and in your bed, what would you do?”

“Pinch him, and then myself, because I'd be dreaming. And then I'd be very confused.” Harry stood up from his chair. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” The silencing spell broke and he bid everyone goodnight before walking up to bed.

Chapter Text

~~~ New Years’ Eve ~~~

“Harry…”

A soft voice and something warm behind his ear caused Harry to stir from sleep. The warmth moved to his jaw.

“Baby, wake up.”

Harry smiled when Draco's lips moved to his neck. Draco chuckled into his skin. “I see that smile,” he murmured. “Open your eyes.” Harry did and turned his head to look at his boyfriend.

“Hi,” he said quietly, smiling when Draco kissed him. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Draco replied. “Have you been sleeping all day?”

“Mm, no.” Harry shook his head and kissed Draco again. “Took a nap. Wh’ time s'it?”

“Four thirty. We got here a bit early, but I wanted to see you.” Draco paused. “You took a nap?”

“I stayed up really late last night with Ron and ‘Mione.” Harry shrugged. “How was Christmas? I got your letter.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. It was very sweet.”

“I am not sweet,” Draco argued.

“You have a nickname for me,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, but—”

“You hug me all the time.”

“Well, you're very—”

“You offered to kill my Muggle family.”

“Because I love—”

“You wrote me a letter explaining why you love me because you thought I might be overwhelmed.” Harry rose an eyebrow. Draco opened his mouth to speak again, but Harry beat him to it. “It was two pages long.”

Draco sighed. “Fine. You win.” He rolled his eyes fondly and Harry grinned. “I only wrote that because I was in a gushy mood and it was Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry sat up, and Draco sat next to him on the bed. An odd noise came through the thin wall.

Harry frowned and glanced at Draco. Draco shrugged next to him and kissed his temple lightly. Harry exhaled heavily when Draco's mouth reached his earlobe.

“Draco…”

The tip of Draco's tongue traced along the vein in Harry's neck. He sucked lightly on Harry's pulse point. Harry bit his lip.

After a moment of heavy breathing and getting steadily more aroused, Harry groaned and moved to sit on Draco's thighs and kiss him. “Fuck, I've missed you so much.”

Draco grabbed his waist and bit Harry's lower lip lightly. “Me too,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Draco smiled and nodded. Harry sighed. “Your dimples are the best things, they're so cute.” Draco's cheeks went pink.

“Shut up, Harry.” The words had no bite and Draco was still blushing. “What would you say… if I told you that my family co-owns a castle in Amsterdam, and I wanted to take you there for your birthday?”

Harry hummed and kissed Draco again softly. “I would say that you are currently in a rough spot with your family and that it's risky to take a chance like that, and I don't want you to get hurt. But also that it's a very nice gesture, and I've never been outside of England besides Hogwarts, and you’re very thoughtful for inviting me to Amsterdam.” Draco grabbed his hands and intertwined their fingers.

“Scared, Potter?” he purred, smirking.

“Hmm… yes,” Harry admitted. “I don’t want you getting in trouble or hurt or dragged back to live with that psychopath against your will.”

“I see.” Draco frowned. “But I really want to do something for you for your birthday.”

Harry grinned. “I appreciate that. I really do, but if you want to do something for me, just be with me.” He shrugged. Draco leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“But the palace has no wards… my parents wouldn’t know. Since it’s mostly Muggle and a tourist attraction, there’s no point because they’d be going off constantly,” Draco said reasonably.

“You actually want to take me to stay in a palace in Amsterdam for my birthday?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. I could get my international Portkey license easily,” Draco replied. “I want to show you everything. And…” he added, voice dropping low as he leaned into Harry’s ear, “we could have sex in every room it has.” Harry laughed softly.

“And how many rooms does this palace have?” he hummed.

“Oh, at least a hundred fifty,” Draco said seriously.

“That is quite a lot of sex,” Harry pointed out. Draco nodded.

“Mhm. I’d say around a month’s worth of it, or more if we want to be overly sentimental and look at all the paintings and explore the decor first.” Harry laughed and grabbed the sides of Draco’s face, kissing him firmly and briefly.

“A month is a… reasonable amount of time,” he conceded with a smile.

“Definitely,” Draco agreed.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Harry asked.

“I want to see you in a dress for my birthday,” he replied with a smirk. Harry rose an eyebrow.

“A dress?” he asked. “What kind of dress?”

“Mm… a short dress,” Draco answered thoughtfully. “Ooh, sheer black lace over dark blue silk. Off-the-shoulder. And figure-hugging for the top half but not the bottom…”

“You've given this a lot of thought,” Harry observed.

“You'd look so hot in a dress.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Mhm. Okay, Draco.”

“I'm serious,” Draco said, “you could pull it off very well.” He leaned forward, lips barely brushing Harry's. “I love you.”

“So you've said,” Harry murmured, nipping Draco's lower lip lightly. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck.

“Harry! Malfoy!” Ron's voice called up the stairs.

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” Draco said quietly, grinning. “Harry… Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy, did you just propose?” Harry teased.

“Hmm… perhaps.”

“Both of you, come downstairs!” Ron yelled. The stairs thumped and the door squeaked, and Ron appeared in the doorway. “For fuck’s sake,” he huffed after noticing that Harry was sitting on top of Draco. “Whatever. Come on, we’re having tea.”

“So, everyone,” Sirius announced, “we have a bit of news.” Remus grabbed his hand and smiled at the group. “I'm pregnant.”

Harry nearly choked on his tea and he felt Draco go rigid beside him.

“Congratulations,” he managed to say, a bit hoarsely. Everyone else in the room congratulated Sirius and Remus while Harry was internally panicking.

“Excuse me, I need Harry's help with something for a moment,” Draco said after a few minutes. He set his tea down and stood, pulling Harry gently along with him outside.

Draco cast a silencing charm around them and started pacing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered.

“Did you know it was possible?” Harry asked softly. Draco stopped pacing and stopped to look at him.

“No, I had no idea!” he replied frantically. “If I did, I would have—” He made a wild gesture towards his lower half. Draco started rambling off in rapid, panicked French that left Harry's head spinning with confusion.

Harry grabbed Draco's upper arms tightly. “Draco!" He took a deep breath. “You're spiraling. Calm down.” Draco exhaled sharply and nodded.

The front door squeaked open, and Harry looked over Draco's shoulder to see Sirius in the doorway. Draco turned as well and undid the silencing charm.

“Hello, boys,” Sirius said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I'm just going to take a wild guess and say you both are panicking right now because of what was just said?”

Harry's face heated immensely. He snuck a glance to Draco and he was red as well.

“The only way it's even possible is because Remus is a werewolf. Lycanthropy is very interesting in that way. Male pregnancies are impossible unless you or your significant other is a lycanthrope.”

Harry sagged in relief. “Really?”

“Really,” Sirius affirmed. “Now, let's go back inside, shall we?” Draco grabbed Harry's hand and they followed Sirius back into the house.

“Everything okay there?” Mrs. Weasley asked sweetly.

“Yeah, everything's great, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks."

Chapter Text

“Mum, would you hand me the bottle, please?” George asked across the table.

“Of course, dear, bottle to what?” Mrs. Weasley replied.

“Why, the wine, of course.”

“Wh—no! George Weasley!” she scoffed. “Don't go mad, you're far too young. I'm not giving any underage person in this house any alcohol at all.” George sighed and shrugged to Fred on his left.

“Well, we tried,” the twins said in unison. The chatter that had paused now resumed around the table and Draco leaned to Harry's ear.

“I still find that unnerving,” he whispered. Harry smiled softly over at him.

“Oi, Harry!” Ron hissed from Harry's other side. “Stop eye-shagging each other, we can all see it.” Harry nearly choked on his chicken.

“Mate, it was a smile,” he murmured, face reddening. “Just a smile.” Ron hummed.

“Whatever you say, Harry.” He shook his head and returned to the conversation with Hermione.

~~~Later~~~

“We can’t play a drinking game!” Harry cried when George pulled out a bottle of brown alcohol with the label of ‘Ogden’s Own.’ “I don’t mean to be Hermione, but we’re way underage!”

“That comment didn’t go unnoticed, Harry,” Hermione said, “and actually, I think this could be a good way for the rest of us to get to know Malfoy a bit better.”

“Loosen up, mate,” Fred said, nudging Harry’s shoulder. Harry shook his head in resignation.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But no Truth or Dare.”

“Oh, no,” George agreed with a mischievous grin, “we’re playing ‘I’ve never.’” He conjured shot glasses, filled them to the brim with the alcohol, and distributed them among the kids in the circle that they sat in the twins’ room. “This is Firewhiskey, kindly sent to me by my good friend Lee Jordan late last night. Sip, do not drink. For one to be unaccustomed and to chug a whole shot of Firewhiskey is pure stupidity.” Draco loosely wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and kissed the side of his head.

“I’m going first,” Ron announced. “I’ve never kissed anyone.” Everyone else drank.

“My turn,” George said loudly. “I’ve never had a crush on a Slytherin.” Harry, Hermione and Ron drank. “Oh? Ronniekins, who’s the lover?” Ron reddened.

“No one,” he lied. “I’m not saying.” Harry leaned into Draco’s ear.

“It’s Zabini,” he whispered.

“Oh?” Draco grinned. “I know this particular person, Weasley, I could set you two up. We’re quite good friends, and I know for a fact they have a certain affinity for Gryffindors.” Ron’s ears turned beet red.

“Sod off, all of you,” he grumbled.

“I’ve never,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “had sex.” Everyone else but Ron drank.

“Cheers,” Harry hummed, “to the untainted flowers.” Draco laughed quietly at the reference and everyone else took another drink to his toast. “I’ve never had feelings for more than one person at a time.” Hermione drank and blushed. “‘Mione, who?”

“Nobody, Harry, it’s just a little fancy. Shut up and let Malfoy take his turn now.”

Draco hummed in thought. “I’ve never said ‘I love you’ without meaning it.” Harry looked up at him and smiled brightly. Draco grinned back and Harry saw Fred take the rest of his glass in one gulp.

“Fred!” Hermione chastised.

“I was in an argument with Percy, and he got upset so I said it to make him feel better. But I was really pissed off and didn’t really mean it at that moment.” He shrugged. “I do love him, though. Most of the time.” Harry chuckled softly and lied his head on Draco’s shoulder.

"Harry," George asked suddenly, thus ending the game, "I have a question." Harry hummed. "Would you ever let Malfoy grab your arse in public?"

"George, he gave me a blowjob in front of the whole school," Harry snorted. "Granted, it was under a table, but Draco's passed grabbing my arse in public already."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked.

"It means he'd let Malfoy eat him out in the courtyard of Hogwarts, Ronnie," Fred offered. Harry frowned thoughtfully.

"Considering how we got together, that's not completely out of the question, actually," he admitted with an uncharacteristically high-pitched laugh. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes. Draco laughed softly.

"Mate, I was joking," Fred said slowly. Harry shrugged.

“Children!” Mrs. Weasley yelled up the stairs. “Come down here! It’s eleven forty-five!”

“Ooh, she’s loud.” Harry frowned up at Draco, who returned the expression with worry.

“Harry, are you drunk?” Draco asked softly. He stood up, catching Harry by the arms when he tried to do the same and fell backward.

“What? No,” Harry said. He tried to take a step but fell against Draco’s chest. “Um. Maybe a little?” he amended. Draco sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how strong it was. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, Harry,” Draco assured him. Harry smiled up at his boyfriend. “Can someone tell Mrs. Weasley that I’m putting him in bed?”

“I’ve got it,” Hermione said. “Just don’t let him do anything stupid.” Draco nodded and Harry frowned at the exchange. The frown disappeared when Draco picked him up and carried him bridal-style into Ron’s room.

“Did Hermione call me stupid?” Harry asked quietly. Draco set him on the bed.

“Definitely not.” He planted a kiss on Harry’s nose before removing his glasses. “Here, lift up your arms.” Harry did as he was told and Draco tugged his sweater off over his head. “You’ll overheat if you wear this tonight.” Harry smiled softly.

“I’m really sorry about tonight. I didn’t think Firewhiskey was that strong,” he murmured. Draco helped him out of his shirt.

“It’s okay, love. You’re just a lightweight.” Harry pouted.

“That’s rude.” There was a lull in conversation as Draco helped Harry out of his trainers and jeans. “Will you fuck me?” Harry asked suddenly. “Please? I really want you to.” Draco hummed softly and placed Harry’s legs in his pyjamas, pulling them up over his hips.

“Not tonight,” he replied. “You’re drunk. You’ll thank me in the morning.” He handed Harry a soft shirt and Harry frowned but slipped it on over his head. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the front of Draco’s grey Muggle trousers that Harry had sent him for Christmas.

He bit his lip. “Please?” he asked again. “I want to have really hot, dirty, kinky sex right now.” Draco shook his head and kissed him lightly on the lips. Harry frowned in disappointment but his mood quickly warmed when Draco climbed under the blankets with him.

“We can do that when you’re sober, Harry,” Draco hummed into his hair. Harry tucked himself into Draco's chest.

“Okay,” he whispered. Draco pulled his wand out and murmured a spell that Harry had never heard before. Suddenly, the room filled with thousands of stars and constellations.

“Draco, where did you learn that spell?” Harry asked in wonder.

“When I was young, and I couldn't sleep, my mother would always come in and cast it,” Draco murmured. “She'd sit on my bed and point every single star and constellation out until I fell asleep.” He pointed to the star right above them. “That's the North Star. The spell causes it to be drawn to the brightest thing in the room. It's over here because of your eyes.”

“Or your hair,” Harry offered with a dopey grin. Draco smiled softly and kissed him. “Where's your constellation? I know there's one called Draco.”

Draco pointed across the room. “That one, over there. Personally, I don't think it looks anything like a dragon, but…” Harry followed his finger and saw a constellation that really just looked like a curved line to him.

“I'm sorry, that looks nothing like a dragon to me,” he admitted. Draco laughed and carded his fingers through Harry's wild hair.

“Harry… how would you feel about maybe not hiding and sneaking around anymore?” he asked quietly. Harry looked up at him.

“You mean like, coming out?”

“Well… kind of. I don't mean put an ad in the Prophet or anything, just not hide. I want to be able to kiss you when I see you in the halls and come up behind you for a hug. I don't want to have to hide.” He leaned closer. “I want to be able to whisper in your ear, and I want to hear you laugh at what I’m saying, and I want to see you light up when I say I love you in the middle of the Great Hall.”

"What about your family?" Harry asked worriedly. "I don't want you relationship with them to be even more sour."

"I'm sure they'll do quite all right," Draco assured. "I love you, Harry. I don't care about what they think anymore."

Harry grinned and bit his lip. “Yeah?”

Draco kissed his forehead. “Yes,” he decided. “And the way we’re going to come out to people is…” He twisted off his ring and held it out to Harry, who took it in curiosity. “You’ll wear this around your neck on a chain until we graduate. If you want to. Because by then I will have gathered my sparse courage and finally bought an engagement ring to replace it with.”

“You want me to marry you?” Harry asked softly.

“I mean...” Draco shrugged. “If I ever do get married, I would like it to be to you.” Harry tried to contain a grin and failed.

“Two proposals in one day?” he hummed. “That's ambitious of you.” He frowned. “I don't have a chain to put this on.” Draco rolled up his sleeve and unwrapped a thin, long leather cord that was wound around his wrist. He took his ring from Harry, slipping it onto the cord.

“Well, Slytherins are known to be ambitious,” he said pointedly as he tied the makeshift necklace around Harry's neck.

“That's true.” Harry sighed when he tucked himself back into Draco's embrace. “How do you think I'd look with longer hair?” Draco looked down at him thoughtfully.

“I think you'd look great with long hair,” he replied after a moment. “How long?”

“I dunno. Like as long as Sirius’, maybe? I want to be able to pull it up out of my face. It would make flying easier, and I want to try something new with it since it doesn't listen to what I tell it to do now. It's just a thought, I might not even do it, but I was just wondering.”

“I think that would look amazing on you,” Draco murmured, stroking Harry's hair softly. “I'm sorry I snapped at you when I told you what was happening with the Mark. I was scared, and I didn't know what reaction you would have.”

“S'okay,” Harry replied.

“I don't want to be those people,” Draco continued, “I don't want to get angry at you when we talk about my parents. I don't have a great relationship with my father, and I haven’t grown up in a very emotionally supportive household. I'm aware that what you went through was astronomically worse. I just have a hard time talking about my family because I still love them and I still miss them.” Harry nodded in understanding.

“I understand,” he whispered. “Draco, I really do.” He yawned, burying his face in Draco's neck.

“Are you tired?” Draco asked. Harry nodded. “Give me a kiss first. I'll take my New Year's kiss a few minutes early.” Harry smiled and looked up at him, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist when Draco kissed him lightly.

“Happy 1996,” he said. He saw Draco grin and kissed him again.

“Happy New Year's, you dork,” Draco murmured. “Love you. Now go to bed.” Harry hummed and returned his head to Draco's neck.

Chapter Text

A few minutes later, Harry woke up from his half-sleep because of people's voices outside the door. He heard Ron clamber into the bed above him and Draco, who hadn't moved an inch.

“Hey, Malfoy?” Hermione’s voice came softly from the direction of Ron's doorway. “I don't want to overstep, but I just want to say that I was walking by the room when Harry was—graphically, I might add—asking for sex, and I heard you say no because he was drunk.” Harry cringed slightly at how weird he had acted. “I just want to say thanks. It made me trust you a bit more.”

“Hermione,” Harry mumbled, half-sleep and groggy, “I can hear you. I love you, but I'm trying to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” he heard her ask.

“He's saying that he loves you but he's trying to sleep,” Draco said, and Harry heard the amusement in his voice. “I think it's quite possible that he's telling you to go away.” Harry hummed his affirmation into Draco's collarbone.

“All right. Well, good night, everyone,” Hermione said quietly. Harry heard the door click shut and he easily started falling back asleep before hearing Ron's voice from above him.

“Did you seriously ask Malfoy to fuck you in my bedroom?”

Harry groaned softly in frustration and Draco kissed his head. “Yes, Weasley, he did, and if he were sober we would have done it on your desk just to spite you.” Harry snorted quietly.

“Stop talking, you two, I'm trying to sleep, not laugh,” he said.

“But Harry, would you actually do that? On my desk?” Ron asked.

Harry turned his head and scowled at the plank of wood above him where Ron lied. “I just fucking might, maybe we'll do it tomorrow if you don't let me fucking sleep,” he said seriously. “I'm tired and drunk and I don't want to be discussing my sex life with anyone except Draco because he's the only other person that is relevant to it. Shut up.” He curled back against Draco's chest.

“Alcohol makes you bitchy, Harry,” Draco hummed softly.

“Draco, I swear to god,” Harry grumbled. “Let me sleep.”

Draco chuckled and kissed his head again. Harry decided silently that he liked that feeling. “Okay. Sorry, love.”

Harry finally fell asleep in the warmth of Draco’s arms, mercifully dreaming of nothing.

When he woke up, he was still in Draco’s embrace, but it was ice cold. He moved backward and saw that Draco’s skin, usually his ethereal pale, had turned a shade of sickly grey. Harry sat upright immediately. “Draco?” he asked in a stage-whisper. “Draco. Draco!” He grabbed Draco’s wrists and placed his fingers on the inside of them, searching for a heartbeat. He found one, steady, but Draco’s veins were black instead of blue and his mouth was twisted into a troubled frown. Something that he never wore while sleeping. His expression would always be peaceful.

Harry shook him, tears building in his eyes. Cold hands with long fingernails (again, something Draco never had) caught his wrists, and Draco looked into Harry’s face. Harry yanked his hands from Draco’s grip after seeing beady red eyes instead of the soft grey ones he was used to. “Draco?” he asked, voice quivering. “Where’s—”

“Harry, what’s going on?” Draco interrupted, voice sounding frantic yet his face remaining cool and collected.

“What do you—what do you mean?” Harry gasped. “You—your eyes! And your skin—who are you?” He took a clumsy step away from the bed. Draco stepped forward in an attempt to follow, but Harry threw out a hand, trying to stop him, and something glass shattered distortedly in the background of his hearing. He tripped backward and landed on his arse, and scrambled backward when Draco—no, someone who had Draco’s body—started to move forward again. He felt something watery on his palm and a slight pinch on it. He curled up in a fetal position on the floor, running his hands along his face and grabbing onto fistfuls of his hair. Harry screwed his eyes shut and covered his forearms over his ears in an attempt to block out any noise.

“Get out, get out, get out,” he repeated. Red eyes flashed under his eyelids and maniacal laughter rang throughout his ears.

“You’ll never be free of me,” Voldemort’s voice echoed in Harry’s mind. His grip grew tighter on his hair, and tears spilled over onto his cheeks as he let out a loud, choked sob. His scar burned like a bitch.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Harry yelled. Something else broke. The burning in his scar subsided and his mind went quiet. All that he could hear was panicked breathing and his own sobs.

After a moment, a hand gently rested on his arm. Harry opened his eyes and saw Draco, the real Draco, kneeling in front of him with an expression of blatant fear. “Dr—Draco?” Harry hiccupped. He looked around and saw the entire household was standing around him with matching expressions to Draco’s. “I—you—you were—I—” He took a series of shuddery breaths, and Draco came to sit next to him on the floor. Harry’s hand throbbed, and he pulled it from his hair to look at it. It was bleeding from a large gash on his palm, and small pieces of glass were embedded in his skin. He gasped in pain and Draco cradled the hand in his own, warm palms, and Harry allowed Mrs. Weasley to perform a Healing spell on it. The glass removed itself from his hand and the slice stitched itself back together. It left a thin scar, but Harry didn’t care about that.

“Harry, what the bloody hell happened?” Ron asked warily. Harry glanced up at him and minutely shook his head. Hermione stepped cautiously forward.

“Tell us when you’re ready, Harry,” she said, voice gentle and quiet. Harry took a sharp breath in before exhaling shakily.

“What do you need?” Draco asked him softly. “What can I help you with?”

“I—I think I’m going to take a bath,” Harry replied.

“Do you need help at all?” George asked worriedly. “With anything?” Harry shook his head before looking over to Draco, who still had an extremely concerned expression on his face. He laced his fingers into Draco’s.

“Just you,” he mumbled. Draco nodded and helped him stand, allowing Harry to guide them towards the bathroom.

Draco started the water and helped Harry undress slowly as if he’d break. Sitting in a ball in the tub, Harry grabbed onto Draco and held him tight. Arms immediately wrapped around his waist and he buried his face into the familiarity of Draco’s warmth.

“Hey, hey,” Draco whispered. “You’ll be okay. It’s going to be all right,” he soothed. “Baby, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” Harry shook his head.

“Y—you have no idea what—Draco, my nightmare—” he stammered into Draco’s shoulder. “Y—you were—you had red eyes, and—and grey skin. You were so cold. Your veins were black, and your fingernails were long… it was like you were him. Like you—were Voldemort. I c—I could hear you, asking—asking what was wrong, but—it was like I was—hallucinating everything.” He sniffled. “Did—I thought I heard something break. Did my magic get out of control?” he asked.

“Yes, love, but it’s all right. No one’s worried about broken glass,” Draco murmured. He rubbed Harry’s back in soothing circles.

“I lied, before,” Harry admitted. “To Dumbledore about that dream with the snake and Arthur Weasley.” Draco hummed in curiosity. “I wasn't watching the snake attack him. I was the snake attacking him.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “And… was You-Know-Who in your head then, too?”

“I… I don't know. I didn't hear or see anyone else. Just Mr. Weasley and that snake.”

“What did it look like? Do you remember?” Draco asked.

“Well, it looked like that snake in the dream I had last year,” Harry recalled, “the one that was by Voldemort. It ate an old man.” Draco pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

“You've been having these dreams since last year?” he asked slowly.

“I mean… yeah,” Harry replied. “Why?”

“I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to get Granger.”

“I—okay,” Harry said in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Draco kissed his cheek. “It will be. I'll make it okay.” He stood up and pulled the shower curtain closed so it covered Harry's body up. He walked out of the room, returning with Hermione in tow right as Harry was washing his hair.

“Hey, Harry,” she said softly. “Malfoy said he thinks these odd dreams are connected?”

“I don’t know, Hermione,” he said. “I’ve had dreams where I see what Voldemort’s seeing, and I have dreams where I am being controlled by Voldemort; it’s all so confusing, ‘Mione. I don’t know what to do or how to handle it.” He shook his head and lathered some conditioner into his hair. Draco sat on the edge of the bathtub and ran his fingers through Harry’s soapy hair, massaging his head soothingly. Harry dropped his hands back into the water and leaned into the touch. “Draco,” he sighed. Draco hummed. “You are perfect.”

“I’m not just going to watch you be stressed out and confused and do nothing,” Draco replied. “I can’t fix everything for you, but I want to help.” He laughed quietly. “Even if it’s just soapy massages in the bath.” Harry smiled softly.

“They’re very helpful, I hope you know.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “As much as you two are a very sweet couple—” she held up a hand when Draco opened his mouth to protest, “—this is, unfortunately, a quite significant issue. I think we should go straight to Dumbledore—” Draco scoffed. Hermione paused and raised an impatient eyebrow. Harry winced in sympathy for Draco. He was either about to get scolded or guilted. “Do you have an opinion on the matter?”

“Look, Harry, it’s your choice, but Dumbledore isn’t always in his right mind.” Harry frowned slightly. “I’m not pressuring you into speaking to someone else, but the Headmaster is very biased towards you anyway. It’s very likely he’ll sugar-coat what’s going on if something is the matter at all. I’m just saying that maybe we should find someone who will tell you the whole truth and not leave parts out. If something is going on, and Dumbledore doesn’t tell you exactly what it is, then someone could get hurt because of it.”

Hermione scowled at him. “And who, exactly, do you have in mind who will tell the whole truth and not be biased toward Harry about this?” she demanded.

Draco sighed. Before he could answer, Harry said, “Snape.”

“Absolutely not!” Hermione cried. “Malfoy, if you think Snape won’t lie to Harry or just run along and tell You-Know-Who that something’s wrong with Harry, you’ve lost your mind!”

“Severus is my godfather, Granger, watch your tone,” Draco replied in annoyance. Harry was grateful for the fingers that were still massaging his hair. “And yes, I think he would tell Harry exactly what’s going on because he doesn’t like him at all. Anyway, something wouldn’t be wrong with Harry. Just Voldemort. Why would he lie? Severus doesn’t sugar-coat anything for anyone. And he doesn’t lie, either. Despite what I’m sure is a Gryffindor House-wide assumption, he doesn’t work for You-Know-Who. I know this for a fact. He advised me against taking the Mark, and he was the first person I told when I decided not to. I trust him with my life.”

“And I trust you both with mine,” Harry cut in, “Hermione, I know why you think going to Snape is a terrible idea, and I’ll admit, he’s not my favorite person either, but Draco’s right. Snape will be honest, and then we can go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him what Snape told us, and Dumbledore will tell us what to do next.”

“I still like my idea better,” Hermione said, and Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded like, ‘of course you do.’ She glared at him, “but I think it could work. I’ll tell Ron.” Harry nodded in agreement, and she got up to leave.

“I’m going to be honest and say I don’t like her very much,” Draco admitted. Harry rolled his eyes. “Sorry, love, she’s too much like me, and I can barely stand myself.” Harry snorted.

“How I stand two of you, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I’m kidding, I love you both.”

Draco stopped massaging Harry’s head and leaned over to look at him. Harry blushed. “You said…” He trailed off.

“I know what I said, Draco,” Harry murmured. “Why’d you stop massaging my head?” Draco grinned and moved to sit right in front of him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him.

“I love you, too,” he whispered. Harry laughed against Draco’s lips.

“I know, you nutter,” he replied. “I need to rinse my hair out.” Draco kissed him again and let go of his face. Harry slid his head under the water and quickly scrubbed the conditioner out of his hair. When he resurfaced, he pulled out the plug in the bathtub and took the towel that Draco handed him.

Harry towel-dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist, bending down to retrieve his discarded pyjamas from the bathroom floor. Draco took them out of his hands and they walked to Ron's room.
“Mate, what's that around your neck?” Ron asked curiously. He walked toward Harry and looked closer at it. “A promise ring?” Harry blushed. “Well, shit. When did this happen?”

“Last night,” Harry shrugged. “Get out, Ron, I need to change.” Ron rolled his eyes and walked from the room. “Draco… I have a question.” Draco hummed. “How do you know how to Apparate? We can't legally learn until we're seventeen.”

“My father taught me over the summer. He pulled a few strings and I'm now allowed to do lots more than a normal fifteen year old wizard,” Draco replied.

“A few strings?” Harry rose an eyebrow. Draco grinned sheepishly.

“A lot of strings,” he amended. “Don't be mad?” he asked hopefully, taking Harry's hands in his own. Harry shook his head.

“I'm not mad. I think… your dad loves you, but he's a bit crazy,” he said. Draco pulled him closer, biting his lip.

“Harry, my father’s not a bit mad,” he laughed softly, “he’s a complete lunatic.” Harry grinned, and Draco kissed him lightly. “You should get dressed.”

“Or…” Harry hummed, walking backwards towards his bed and pulling Draco with him, “you could get undressed.”

“Here? Now? Harry, we’re in your best friend’s bedroom,” Draco scoffed fondly. Harry quirked an eyebrow and bit his lip, attempting to stifle a smile. “Are you serious?” Harry hummed in affirmation. “Harry…” He moved closer and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist.

“Yes?” Draco rolled his eyes and smiled. “Draco…” He kissed Draco softly. “It’s been two weeks.”

“Have you been deprived of touch?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Harry groaned dramatically. He grinned again. “So.”

“So,” Draco repeated. Harry frowned.

“I have another question,” he said suddenly. “Have you… did you happen to tell your parents about us?” He bit his lip after seeing Draco’s expression. “I’m sorry. I just thought that… maybe you’d said we at least got to know each other… Nevermind. I’m being ridiculous.” Draco grabbed his cheeks.

“If I said anything about you, no matter what it was, you know what would happen, right?” he asked. “Look. I love you, Harry. I don’t want anything to happen to you. At all. Ever. I want you to be safe, okay? If my parents—my father, in particular—even have that thought planted in their head… I don’t even want to think about what would happen.” He brushed a lock of hair from Harry’s forehead lightly and kissed it. “It’s not because I don’t want everyone to know how much I care about you, but I don’t want either of us to get hurt.” Draco kissed his lips. “You know that, right?” Harry sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. I know,” he said. “I just hate sneaking around. It’s stressful, and I hate it when Astoria Greengrass pins you with her creepy look that makes her seem like she wants to eat you.”

“Astoria Greengrass is a Third Year and a girl. No part of that is appealing to me,” Draco said. Harry bit his cheek. “And I can’t help it if I’m appealing to her.”

“I know, I just… I want all of those things you said before. To not have to pull you into a separate corridor when I want to kiss you between classes, or put up Notice-me-not charms in the common room when I want to lie my head on your shoulder.”

“And that’s why we’re going to be subtle, but not keep us a secret anymore,” Draco murmured. “Just… subtle, at first. To warm people up to the idea.” He kissed the tip of Harry’s nose. “Then we can have as much PDA as we want.” Harry laughed and shook his head. “What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just funny how Draco Malfoy is talking to me about subtlety,” he teased. “You aren’t exactly… not… what’s that word…” Harry grinned. “Well, anyway, you’re very dramatic.” Draco scoffed. “I’m serious, you have always had a… certain preference for it.”

“Mhm.” Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist once again. “Harry, you know how much I love you, right?” Harry nodded. “Okay. Good.” Harry gave him a small, confused smile.

“Why? Is everything all right?”

“Yes. I just want to make sure you know.” He ran his fingers through Harry’s damp hair and smiled. “You’re so cute.” Harry blushed.

“Shut up, Draco.”

“I’m serious. You are,” Draco mumbled. “I love you.”

“See what I’m saying?” Harry hummed. “So dramatic—”

He was cut off by Draco’s mouth covering his own. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and pulled him closer. “That was a nice surprise,” he laughed quietly. Draco kissed him again. Harry slipped a hand down and played with one of the buttons on Draco’s shirt. “Well. If we’re not going to be doing anything, I need to get dressed.” Draco rolled his eyes and kissed his forehead.

“I'm going to show you something tomorrow on the train,” he murmured.

“Oh?” Harry replied. Draco hummed. “May I ask what this something is?”

“You can ask, but I won't tell.” Draco leaned into Harry’s ear. “How about we make a bet?”

Harry smiled. “I'm listening.”

“I bet… that I can make you come just from my mouth.” Draco’s teeth grazed Harry's ear.

“I know you can,” Harry said. “You have before. And don't two people have to be on opposing sides of a bet for it to really be a bet?”

“Not necessarily. And not like that. Some other way.”

“You know… I seem to remember the promise of really hot, dirty, kinky sex while I'm sober,” Harry rose an eyebrow. “Well, here I am, sober and almost completely naked already. And very touch starved,” he added as an afterthought. Draco kissed his neck and picked him up by the arse, setting him down on what Harry assumed was Ron's desk. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck when Draco kissed him. “I was mostly kidding when I told Ron last night that I would let you fuck me on his desk, just so you know.”

“I know,” Draco murmured. He nipped Harry's lip. “Do you ever just feel something so intensely that you want to cry?”

“I mean… I suppose,” Harry replied slowly, confused. “I've been really pissed off before and I've almost cried…”

“I love you so much that I want to cry,” Draco said. “I want to be around you all the time. I want to hug you constantly, and I want to kiss you, and just be with you. Like a big stuffed animal.” Harry laughed softly.

“You do?” he asked. Draco hummed. “Well, for your mental health and my stomach, I hope you haven’t slept with any of your stuffed animals,” Harry teased. Draco pulled a confused expression.

“Of course, what else—” he started to say, when realization hit across his features. “Oh. Oh, god no. Holy fuck, Harry, what the hell?”

“Sorry.” Harry shrugged and kissed him again. “You know, I think I rather like saying ‘I love you.’” Draco grinned and bit Harry’s lip, tugging on it lightly.

“I think I like hearing it,” he said.

“Draco…” Harry murmured, “please, please, please, can we do something?” he pleaded. “I never thought that I would say this, but I’m honestly so bored in the Burrow this year.” He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Draco’s trousers and pouted. “Please?”

Draco kissed Harry’s forehead. “I have something we can do,” he suggested. Harry rose an eyebrow. “Get dressed, I’ll show you what it is.” Harry slid off the desk and quickly threw on his sweater from Mrs. Weasley and warm trousers, following Draco out of the house and towards the frozen rows of corn out in the field.

They walked through the wild cornfields, hand in hand, until they reached a small frozen pond that Harry had never seen before. They lied down in the surrounding snow and watched the sky, making idle conversation.

“You know… I think my mother knows,” Draco said softly, looking over at Harry. Harry frowned in confusion. “I think she always has. I've never shown interest in a girl. At parties, they would try to get close to me, flirt with me—I'm guessing that's what they were doing, though I'm not sure. A lot of girls just acted like they had something in their eye.” Harry laughed softly. “I never really responded. But… even when I was younger, and had no idea what sexuality was, I would have more animated discussions with boys. I'd sit or stand closer to them, smile more often, just small things. Be more engaged in conversation.” Draco sighed. “I think, even when I was trying to suppress it all, I knew how I felt. I always knew that she knew. Somehow.” Harry hummed.

“Well… this is just a guess, but… Mrs. Weasley has this very accurate ability to tell when one of us is lying before we even open our mouths. Maybe parents just know those kinds of things. I think Molly knew what I was going to say right when I asked her if I could speak to her,” he reasoned. “But… I only have one example to go off of, so it might just be a Molly Weasley thing.” He thought of the mirror of Erised and what he saw in it during Second Year. He really did have his mum's eyes.

“No, that makes sense, actually,” Draco murmured. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair. “I miss my mother.” Harry smiled sadly.

“I know the feeling,” he said. Draco pulled him closer.

“My mother is amazing. I wish there was a way for you to meet her.” Harry looked over at Draco and kissed his cheek. “What was that for?”

“I can't kiss my boyfriend when I want to?” Harry countered. Draco sat up on his knees in between Harry's legs.

“Of course, you can't. Don't go mad on me, Potter,” he joked. He pulled Harry closer to him by the legs. Harry laughed, cupping Draco's cheeks with his gloved hands when Draco bent over to kiss him. “I love you.”

“Do you want to know something fantastic?” Harry asked in reply, grinning. Draco hummed. “I love you, too.”

“What a lovely thing to hear you say,” Draco murmured.

“Isn't it?” Harry agreed. Draco grabbed his hands and pulled him up into his lap. “What was that for?” Harry echoed Draco's earlier words. Draco just smirked and grabbed Harry's arse. “Draco?”

One of Draco's hands left Harry's arse and he pulled off his glove before poking two fingers at Harry's mouth. Harry let them push past his lips and held eye contact with Draco as he wet the fingers with his saliva. Draco pulled them out of his mouth and reached his arm behind Harry again, kissing him slowly. Harry bit Draco's lip when he felt Draco's hand slide into his pants and a finger press against his entrance.

Draco fingered him open slowly and teasingly, and it drove Harry mad. He tried to pull Draco closer by the waist to get friction, but Draco just smirked and nibbled on Harry's earlobe. Harry retaliated by biting onto Draco's neck and avidly working on leaving a large bruise in his wake. He worked a hand in between their bodies and was pleased to find that Draco was already hard. “Draco—”

“Shh,” Draco cut him off breathily, “let me do this.” Harry nodded and continued to lightly suck at Draco's neck. He didn't even realize that he had been rolling his hips in small circles and riding Draco's thigh until his movements stuttered when Draco added another finger. He moaned softly and moved his head up to kiss Draco firmly on the lips. “Come on, Harry, I know you're close,” Draco whispered against Harry's lips. He was right. Harry was close. “Come—” He broke off his sentence as Harry started massaging his cock through his trousers. Draco bent his fingers and Harry bit down on his lip, wrapping his free arm around Draco's neck.

“Fuck,” Harry moaned quietly. Draco nodded in agreement, crooking his fingers again. Harry continued to massage the front of Draco's trousers, reveling in the muffled gasps he received in return.

“Harry… fuck, so close,” Draco breathed. “Come for me, baby.” He nipped down Harry's throat and ear. “Come on.”

The things that Draco's fingers made Harry feel were sinful. The repetitive feeling of his prostate being brushed made his whole body tense in anticipation. Harry rode out his orgasm on Draco's thigh, while slipping his hand into Draco's pants and pulling him over the edge as well.

They sat for a moment, lazily kissing, before cleaning themselves up and walking back to the Burrow.

“Draco, dear, you've got a Floo call,” Mrs. Weasley said when they walked through the door. Draco went to sit in front of the fireplace and Harry sat on the stairs to wait for him.

“Mother,” he heard. “Yes. Of course. I miss you too.” Draco paused while who Harry assumed was his mother spoke in a tone that he couldn't hear. “It's… overwhelming… no, of course not,” Draco said. Harry frowned. “I'm excited… me too. I wish I could go back home.” His voice got quieter, but Harry could still hear some of what Draco was saying. “The Dark Lord… have my room… how’s father?” A pause. “Good… Harry's okay… stressful… it will be over soon. I love you, too.” Harry quietly walked up the stairs into Ron's room and sat on his bed. When Draco sat next to him and gave him a kiss, Harry didn't lean into it. Draco frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Who was on the Floo?” Harry asked.

“Just Sirius,” Draco lied. Harry gave a sad smile. Right. Sirius.

He was going to let it go, but he couldn't. “I didn't think you called Sirius ‘Mother,’” he said.

Draco's face got serious. “You heard the conversation.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn't mean to. I was going to wait for you at the bottom of the stairs. I wasn't trying to listen.” He paused. “What's overwhelming? Why do you want to go back home? Why were you talking about Voldemort having your room? Am I stressful to you? What will be over soon?”

The questions all rushed out at once.

“This sounds like I'm being accused of something,” Draco mentioned slowly. “Am I being accused of something?”

“Please, just… prove me wrong. Prove to me that the worst case scenario that is running through my head right now is not what's going on,” Harry pleaded. “Because what I heard makes it sound like you're using me to play some sort of angle. Am I overwhelming to you? Do I… do I stress you out? Did you lie to me when you said you wouldn’t be taking the Dark Mark?”

The final question hung heavy in the air around them; Do you even love me?

“Do you really think that low of me still?” Draco whispered. “Do you still think I'm that… daddy's boy who schemed and plotted and hated you?” Harry winced. “You mean everything to me. Why would you think that I've been lying to you? I thought you trusted me. You're not overwhelming. You don't stress me out. I love you. It's overwhelming how easily the Weasleys are willing to forget the past and adopt me into their family. The situation with your dreams is stressful because I can’t just kiss you on the head and tell you it will be okay, because that won't fix it. It's stressful because I don't know what to do to help you.” Harry's eyes watered when he realized his mistake.

“Draco, I—”

“I should go,” Draco cut him off. “I need to pack. Sirius is probably waiting for me.” He wiped under his eyes and stood. “Bye, Harry.” He walked out of the room without so much as a glance back.

Harry stared at the shut door of Ron's bedroom, silently hoping that Draco would come back in and tell him it's all right, that he's forgiven.

He didn't.

He was crying when Ron walked into the room. “You didn't come downstairs when Malfoy was leaving, I just wanted to—Harry? What's wrong, mate?” Ron came to sit next to him, enveloping him in a much needed hug.

“I fucked up, Ron,” Harry sniffled, “I really messed things up with us.”

“What happened?” Ron asked. Harry recalled the interaction exactly how it was, crying turned to sobbing at the end. “Harry… every couple fights. You're going to be okay, mate. You just heard some stuff without context, and if I heard what you did I would think the same thing.” Harry nodded. “Just give Malfoy the rest of the day and then maybe write him a letter later tonight.” Harry nodded again. “I'm going to go get you some tea, okay? I'll bring Hermione up here and we'll take your mind off it. Just lie down in bed, yeah?”

Ron made Harry get under the covers before retrieving the promised cup of tea and Hermione.

“You two will be okay, Harry,” Hermione soothed, “everybody fights. Ron's parents fight, my parents fight, I'm sure your parents fought. No one's perfect.”

“Draco's perfect,” Harry sniffled.

“No one's perfect,” Hermione repeated firmly. “You'll be okay. I promise. This was your first fight. No one breaks up after the first fight. You made it three months without having any problems. That's a great accomplishment, Harry.”

“It was really bad, Hermione,” Harry said shakily. “He was really upset.”

“That's all right. It will all be okay soon.”

Chapter Text

Of course Ron felt bad for Harry. He was his best mate. But, he also wanted to sleep. He couldn’t handle the hiccuping breaths any longer. Who knew people could cry in their sleep? Ron sighed and got out of bed, quietly stepping down the stairs. He made sure to skip the squeaky stair.

“And what on Earth do you think you’re doing?” the voice of his mum asked shrilly. Ron spun around guiltily and saw his mother standing with her hands on her hips in the kitchen. “Where do you think you’re going, young man?”

“I… I—” Ron stuttered. “I was going to Sirius’ house. Malfoy and Harry had a fight. I want to tell him to stop being pissed off because Harry is up there sobbing in his sleep and I can’t let him keep thinking that it’s over because of one stupid thing that they both said. Mum, please let me go. Or come with me, I’m doing this for Harry.”

“Ronald Weasley, I cannot believe you,” his mum scoffed. “It is one in the morning. I can’t allow you to leave this late.”

“Mum, please! He’s my best friend, and I can’t just let him be depressed over Malfoy!” Ron whispered. She sighed and pinched her nose.

“You will be back in forty-five minutes. No stops along the way. If Draco tells you to leave, you come straight home,” she warned. Ron nodded. “Hurry along. Time is ticking.” Ron jumped toward the fireplace and threw Floo powder down, saying the name of Number 12 Grimmauld Place just a bit too loudly.

Sirius jumped up from the couch when Ron stepped through, and Ron startled back at the wand pointed in his face. Sirius sighed and dropped his wand. “What the hell are you doing here, Ron? It’s late.”

“I need to see Malfoy,” Ron said. “Where’s his room?”

“He’s… not wanting to talk to anyone right now,” Sirius answered cautiously. “Look, I don’t know what happened with him and Harry, but he’s torn up about it. He hasn’t come from his room, and the door’s locked.”

“Can I at least try? Harry’s at home crying in his sleep. I mean, who cries in their sleep?” Ron asked. Sirius rubbed his forehead and nodded, gesturing up the stairs.

“Be quick,” he sighed. “His room is the first door on the left.” Ron walked up the stairs and tried to push open Malfoy’s door. It was locked.

“Malfoy?” he called. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.” No one answered. Ron rattled the handle to his door. “Open up. Talk to Harry, Malfoy. I know he sent you a letter. You didn’t answer.” Ron groaned lightly and his forehead fell onto the door. “He’s been crying since your fight. He’s dry heaving in his sleep. Please open the door. Tell him it’s not over. Just… tomorrow, make sure he knows that you’ll at least talk to him.” He paused. “He loves you. He told me what happened, and if you heard what he heard, you’d think the same. You both overreacted. He jumped to conclusions, and you didn’t hear him out. Open the door.”

There was silence at the other end of the door. “Malfoy… I know you love him, too,” Ron said softly. “I don’t like you, but I do love Harry. He’s my brother. I’m doing this for him. He’s devastated, so please, just—open the door.”

The doorknob clicked, and Ron looked at it hopefully. Malfoy’s face appeared in the crack of the doorway, and Ron saw red around his eyes. “Do you want to come in?”

“I… have to go in thirty minutes, but yeah, I guess,” Ron answered. Malfoy opened the door all the way and sat on his chair, leaving the small sofa available to Ron.

“He told you what happened?” he asked. Ron nodded as he sat down on the couch. “Um… the reason I lied about who I was talking to on the Floo was that I had told Harry that I wasn’t in contact with my mother.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been planning something,” Malfoy said, “something really big and really… over the top romantic. We never officially went on a first date, so I wanted to make up for it. My mother and Blaise have been helping me. With some… altered information on her part, at least. But I couldn’t let him know, so I just pretended like I wasn’t in touch with my mother to keep it a secret. I was excited because I was going to show him tomorrow, and... Harry’s been having dreams. When I said something was stressful, I meant the situation. Not him. Fuck, this all sounds… so bad when I say it out loud,” he exhaled. Ron nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. It does.”

Malfoy looked at him with wide eyes. “I made this so much worse by not listening, didn’t I?” he asked.

“I’d say so,” Ron replied. Malfoy rubbed his face stressfully.

“Shit, I need to see him,” he breathed. “Is he awake?”

“No, but I don’t think he’d mind if you woke him up tonight.” Ron stood. “I should get home. You can come if you’d like.”

“I shouldn’t wake him.” Malfoy shook his head. “I can talk to him tomorrow on the train.”

“He’d want you to,” Ron pressed. Malfoy nodded and stood as well, following him down the stairs.

“Whoa, wait,” Sirius rushed, “little cousin, where are you going? It’s almost two in the morning.”

“I’m going to clear some things up with Harry. There was a big misunderstanding and I just messed it up worse,” Malfoy answered. “I’ll be back soon, Sirius. I promise.”

Stepping through the Floo, Ron was pinned with a cold stare from his mum on the couch. “What? I’m home fifteen minutes early,” he muttered.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Ronald Weasley,” she warned, “I shouldn’t have let you go. I see you brought Draco back with you, and it truly is lovely to see you again.” Malfoy leaned into Ron’s ear.

“I think your mother has a bit of a crush,” he whispered. Ron snorted. “Is Harry upstairs?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you a bit.” Ron sat on the sofa as Malfoy walked up the stairs. “I hope I didn’t just make it any worse,” he sighed.

Chapter Text

“Harry?” A quiet voice stirred him from sleep. He groaned softly and rolled over. His blurry vision vaguely made out a tall blond figure in the doorway. Harry immediately sat up and shoved his glasses on. “Can I—”

“Come in,” Harry said, “please?” Draco walked in and stepped toward him. “Draco, I’m so sorry about everything that I said. I heard a lot of half-sentences and I just… filled in the blanks on my own with the worst-case scenario without asking you what any of it meant.” Draco sat on the bed next to him.

“I didn’t listen before. I didn’t listen to what you were trying to say,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, too.” Draco seemed to want to kiss Harry but was hesitant. Harry leaned forward at that hesitation and grabbed the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him close and kissing him.

Draco cupped Harry’s cheeks and whimpered in the back of his throat that made Harry smile. “I really fucked things up,” Draco mumbled, “Weasley helped me realize it. Shockingly.” Harry chuckled.

“Which one? There’s several of them.”

“Yours,” Draco replied.

“That’s not helpful at all, they’re all mine,” Harry laughed. Draco rolled his eyes.

“The one who calls me ‘Ferret’ all the time,” he clarified.

“Ron came to you?” Harry rose an eyebrow.

“He said you were dry heaving in your sleep and had been crying all night,” Draco said. “That you felt terrible.” Harry hugged him and buried his face in Draco’s neck.

“I do feel terrible,” he murmured. “I’m really sorry.” Draco kissed his head.

“Me, too.”

“I do have one question, though,” Harry murmured. Draco hummed. “Why did you lie about who it was that you were talking to?” Draco sighed.

“Would you let it go if I said that it's a secret?” he asked. Harry shook his head. “Right. I've been planning something for us in my Prefects’ quarters that I don't use. We never got an official first date, so I made something in my private dorms for us.” Harry smiled into Draco's neck and then shoved his shoulder. “What was that for?!”

“We could have been in a private room this whole time!” Harry cried. “And you're using it for a date!” Draco laughed lightly. “And just so you know, all of them call you ‘Ferret’.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Draco scoffed.

“I blame you for that,” he said. Harry pulled away from the hug with a playful scowl.

“Excuse you, that was entirely your fault!” he cried. “You were being an arse, and Professor Moody came in and turned you into a ferret because you were so rude. Although, I have to admit, him throwing you around in the air like that made me feel just a little bit bad for you. And when you smacked against the ground, even Ron flinched.”

“Nothing's ever my fault, Harry,” Draco joked, “I'm a Malfoy, and Malfoys are always perfect. And honestly, I was about ready to cry when I landed on the ground. That hurt.”

“Draco, I love you and your sense of humor.” He paused. “You'll have to go back tonight, won't you?”

“Yes, for my trunk,” Draco affirmed. “I wish I could stay, but I told Sirius I'd be back later and I should probably sleep a bit before I have to leave. I can stay for a few minutes longer, though.” Harry frowned.

“Have you not slept tonight?”

“No. I couldn't. I had too much to think about, and I felt horrible about how I left.”

“Draco, go home. I love you and I want you to stay, but you have to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Go to bed.” Harry kissed his cheek. “You should sit with us tomorrow. It's a step of subtlety, right?” Draco nodded. “Also, you have a little—” He poked Draco's neck where the love bite was. “Just here.” Draco's hand flew up to his neck to cover it.

“I've been walking around with a hickey on my neck?” he hissed. Harry grinned and kissed him.

“Nobody cares about it. Now go home, and go to bed. Before I give you three more of those marks on your neck.” Draco scoffed.

“Because that absolutely makes me want to run out the door,” he teased. Harry grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.

“Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Draco grinned.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.”

“You too.” Draco stood and hugged Harry tightly. “Goodnight.” Harry kissed the nearest place he could, and that happened to be Draco's stomach. “Now go.”

"I love getting kicked out of my boyfriend's bedroom," Draco laughed.

"I don't love when my boyfriend is exhausted because he stayed up all night worrying," Harry replied sternly."Go to bed." He stood and pushed Draco all the way down the stairs, only stopping in front of the fireplace. He placed a handful of Floo powder into Draco's hand and kissed him one more time. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Draco tossed down the powder, said his destination, and was suddenly gone.

Harry turned around to where he saw Ron sitting with his mum on the couch. "Thank you," he whispered. Harry walked to Ron and wrapped his arms around the boy’s lanky shoulders tightly. “Thank you,” he said again. Ron returned the hug.

“‘Course, mate.”

Chapter Text

Harry sat between Draco’s legs. They sat horizontally on the compartment bench, taking up the whole seat. Draco’s arms were wrapped securely around Harry’s waist and his cheek rested on Harry’s head. Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron, who were sitting across from them.

“Is he sleeping?” he whispered.

“No,” Draco murmured. Harry interlaced his fingers in Draco’s and rested his head against Draco’s chest. Draco leaned into his ear. “I love you.”

Harry hummed contentedly. “I love you, too.” He pulled the necklace out from under his shirt and twisted it around his finger loosely. “I seem to remember a bet? And a promise?”

A few minutes later, Draco shoved Harry into the wall of an empty train compartment by the hips and started carelessly pulling off their clothes.

“Draco,” Harry moaned into his mouth, “please do me a favour.”

“Yeah,” Draco breathed, tilting Harry’s head to the side by his chin and kissing down it roughly.

“When we get back to Hogwarts, I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk,” Harry gasped. “Fill me up so many times that I forget how to stand right." Draco bit at his shoulder. “Your lips are so soft.”

“I’m going to make you come until you’re a shaking, crying mess,” Draco agreed lowly. “The only thing you’ll be moaning is my name. Over. And over. And over.” He punctuated each sentence with a bite up to Harry’s ear. “You’ll be having dry orgasms and you’ll be so full of come that you won’t be able to breathe without it spilling out of your arse.” Harry whined and nodded.

“I love you,” he whispered. Draco returned the phrase in a haste mumble and slid Harry’s shirt off his shoulders, kissing down his chest needily. He dropped gracefully to his knees and bit at Harry’s stomach above the waistband of his trousers, leaving light pink marks behind and pressing his face into Harry’s hip with a soft groan. Harry felt a cleaning charm zip up his spine and he exhaled sharply when Draco pulled his trousers down and mouthed at the front of his pants.

Draco tugged Harry’s pants off and grabbed the base of Harry’s cock firmly, licking a stripe of saliva along the underside before pushing it past his lips. Harry moaned and Draco’s free hand came up and entwined their fingers together.

“God, Draco,” Harry breathed. Draco hummed around him softly. “Your mouth is perfect.” Draco pulled his mouth off and looked up at Harry, pulling a lip between his teeth and smiling.

“It’s been far too long since we’ve done something like this,” he said, voice rough. Harry nodded in enthused agreement. Draco took Harry’s cock back into his mouth, swallowing him down to the base.

Harry turned around when he was prompted to. Draco pried his arse cheeks open and kissed Harry’s tailbone.

“Draco?” Harry breathed.

“Trust me?” Draco asked.

“Yeah.”

Draco licked at Harry’s rim and Harry tensed his shoulders. “Draco—” Harry gasped.

Harry’s whole body was shaking by the time Draco paused. He swallowed thickly and shuddered when Draco’s breath coasted across his skin.

“My jaw is sore,” Draco admitted, before delving back in with more intention than before. Harry’s knees buckled and he gripped the side of the windowsill to stay balanced. Draco hummed against him, and Harry felt his skin vibrate with the noise.

“Draco—fuck, I’m gonna come,” he whimpered. He felt spit running down the inside of his thigh. He reached to wrap a hand around his prick, and had barely touched himself before he came all over the wall and his stomach.

Harry turned around and Draco licked him clean, afterward helping pull his trousers up and look at least half-decent. Harry immediately dropped to his knees and urged Draco to stand. He kissed the front of Draco’s trousers before pulling them down.

Harry moaned at the feeling of Draco’s cock in his mouth, heavy on his tongue, but he refrained from moving. He looked up at Draco expectantly, and when Draco just looked at him with a confused frown, Harry pulled his hips forward before pushing them back again.

“Oh,” Draco breathed. “You want me to…?” Harry hummed in affirmation. “Tell me if I need to stop.”

Draco started off slowly, with shallow thrusts. Harry relaxed his throat and managed to take a few more inches into his mouth. He felt the tip of Draco’s cock pushing against the back of his throat.

Draco’s fingers found their way into Harry’s hair and Draco moaned quietly. Harry looked up at his face through his own eyelashes and saw Draco’s head leaned back, the front of his throat exposed and skin taught. Draco thrust harder, and Harry gagged slightly. He could feel a steady stream of drool dripping from his lower lip. He could also feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the sides of his eyes, but Draco felt so good in his mouth that Harry didn’t care.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco heaved, “you’ll make me come so fucking fast if you keep doing this.” Harry would have smiled, but he couldn’t with his mouth full. He instead tightened his throat and momentarily choked before relaxing again. He bobbed his head in sync with Draco’s rough thrusts.

Less than six minutes later, Draco was coming down Harry’s throat with a groan. Harry swallowed and pulled off with a deep breath. Draco pulled Harry up and kissed him.

“How did you learn to do that?” he whispered. Harry rolled his eyes and placed a flat palm on Draco’s lower back, pulling him closer.

“I love you,” he murmured. Draco dropped a kiss on Harry’s lips before bending down and getting dressed in record time. Harry pulled on the rest of his robes and righted himself as best he could without a mirror. Draco watched him, clearly amused. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just ridiculous. Can I please redo your tie?”

“It’s not that bad.” Harry protested but allowed Draco to fix it anyway.

“Yes, but I’m a perfectionist.” He planted a kiss on Harry’s forehead and they walked back to Ron and Hermione’s compartment.

“Whatever this first date redo is, it better be amazing,” Harry warned. Draco scoffed.

“It will be,” he promised. “I’m a great planner.” Harry hummed his assent and shrugged.

“Draco, promise me something,” he said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“No more secrets. Okay?” Harry asked hopefully. “Just straight honesty.” Draco nodded.

“Okay. I promise.”

The door to the compartment slid open and Neville walked out of it. “Hey, Harry.” He glanced at Draco and his eyebrows creased in confusion.

“Hey, Neville… what were you doing in there?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Oh, just asking Ron about something. Why… is Malfoy with you?”

“We—um…” Harry looked up to Draco, silently asking if it was okay to tell Neville. Draco shrugged and even planted a kiss on Harry’s head before whispering, “I’ll be inside.”

Neville’s jaw was hanging open. Harry smiled awkwardly and laughed. “Yeah, we’re… erm. Dating.” Neville continued to gape. “Please don’t tell anyone. He’s not out to his parents, and his home situation… well, if he were to be publicly dating me, it wouldn’t be very good for him at all.”

“Wh—but, Harry, you’re dating Malfoy!” Neville whispered.

“He’s a good person once you get to know him, I promise,” Harry assured. Neville gave him a skeptical look. “I swear it. On my life. He's a better person.”

“If you’re sure…” Neville replied uneasily. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Harry murmured. Neville shook his head in exasperation and walked down a few compartments. Harry stepped in and sat next to Draco. He pulled Draco’s head into his lap and began running his fingers aimlessly through Draco’s soft hair.

“What did you two do while you were gone?” Hermione asked suspiciously. Harry shrugged and looked down at Draco with a small grin. Draco rose an eyebrow and smirked.

“I don’t know,” he hummed, “Harry, what did we do?”

“I can’t seem to remember either,” Harry agreed, grinning in satisfaction. Draco grabbed Harry’s free hand and kissed it lightly. “I love you,” Harry hissed softly. Draco’s eyes widened and he sat up, scrambling to get a parchment and quill out. “Draco?”

“That’s brilliant!” Draco exclaimed to himself, “how did I not see it?”

“Draco—”

“Shh, just a moment,” he interrupted. Harry frowned at his friends, who shrugged. Hermione watched Draco attentively. Draco placed a Sticking charm on the parchment against the compartment wall. “Granger, the statistics for Parseltongue… the language is practically nonexistent,” Draco murmured, tapping the quill against his lower lip. “How on Earth do we know two people who can speak it?”

“Two?” Ron asked, “what do you mean?”

“Voldemort can speak it,” Harry answered.

Draco drew two large stick figures on the parchment, one with Harry’s name above it and the other with Voldemort’s.

“What are you making?” Ron queried.

“A diagram,” Hermione said. She snatched a quill from her bag and stood next to Draco. “May I?” Draco nodded. She wrote Parseltongue in between the figures. “Harry, we’ll need any information on You-Know-Who you have. Connections to you, or your family—”

“What, you mean like my wand?” Harry interrupted. Draco looked at Harry curiously. “Ollivander said my wand's twin was Voldemort's because the feathers in our wands were from the same phoenix.”

“Of course,” Draco whispered. He wrote wands underneath the word Parseltongue. “Umm… anything else?” He gasped after a moment. “Mind! You saw Mr. Weasley get attacked! You said Nagini was there.”

“I attacked Mr. Weasley in that dream,” Harry corrected. “I was the snake.”

Draco looked around, spotted a licorice wand that Ron had next to him, and grabbed it.

“Hey!” Ron protested.

“I’ll pay you back,” Draco muttered, sticking the candy horizontally on the parchment, connecting drawing-Harry’s and Voldemort’s heads.

“This is genius,” Hermione breathed. “You think that they’re—”

“Connected, yes,” Draco finished. “Harry somehow survived the Killing Curse, and in turn You-Know-Who died. How?”

“Love?” Harry offered. “My mother begged him to kill her instead. A mother’s love is what I was always told.” He paused. “Well, that’s what Remus and Sirius said, at least.”

“No, that’s brilliant,” Draco said, writing love down on the parchment and circling it. “This entire thing—it’s so simple, yet so brilliantly executed, and it wasn’t even intentional...”

“Coupled with the fact that twin wands never happen and the ratio of Parseltongue speakers is basically nonexistent as you said, other than being passed down genetically?” Hermione added.

“Second year,” Harry said, “I’m not the heir to Slytherin, I was told that. But I tamed the Basilisk, I talked to it, I understood it, I figured out how to get into the Chamber. I met Voldemort's soul from before he was Voldemort. If I’m not the heir to Slytherin, then how did I do that?”

Draco undid the charm on the parchment and flipped it over to the blank side. “Explain?”

Harry did, and he talked as he did it, and finally, at the end of the train ride, they had figured some very big thing that Harry didn't quite understand out except what caused Harry and Voldemort to be connected.

“It’s like a part of him transferred into Harry,” Ron chimed.

“Say that again,” Draco demanded. “Weasley, say that again, in those exact words.” Ron did. “I know of something like that. I read about it or heard about it, it’s some ancient, Dark magic. Worse than Blood magic. I remember my father shutting me up about the subject incredibly quickly. He yelled at me to never ask about it again. It’s an evil practice, not just Dark magic. It’s pure evil. You have to be a sadistic bastard to do something like it, I just can’t—I can’t place it!” he groaned. “Damn it!”

Hermione rested a hand on his shoulder. “We can skip the feast, I’ll search the books with you.”

“Something like that would be in the Restricted Section,” Harry said. “I can give you my Cloak.” Draco took the parchment off the wall and rolled it up. He stuck it in his bag and kissed Harry firmly.

“We’re close, baby, I know we are,” he whispered. “And then we can go to whoever you want to talk to about this.” Harry nodded and grabbed Draco’s hand, squeezing it lightly. He fished his Cloak out of his bag and handed it to Hermione.

“Please don’t rip it,” he requested. She nodded.