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King's Crossing

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The door to Draco’s flat loomed before Harry like the gates of the underworld, ready to swallow him whole. “You can do this,” he told himself as he knocked. “You can be in his house, be practically up against him, and stay friendly.”

Draco answered the door, looking as handsome as ever. Harry couldn’t help remembering the almost-kiss that happened right here on this threshold, and blushed against his will. “Professor Potter, here for training,” he joked.

“Professor, eh?” Draco lifted a pale brow, and stood aside for Harry to enter. 

“It looks good in here” he said, looking around. Draco had obviously added more decorations around his flat — a mirror here, a vase there, and several paintings of landscapes that appeared both peaceful and foreboding. 

“It’s nice to have a place of my own, though at first it was strange. When I was young I thought I’d live in the Manor my whole life.” 

Harry couldn’t imagine Draco back in Malfoy Manor anymore. He’d grown beyond that, grown into himself. He followed Draco into the house. 

“I’ve moved the furniture in the sitting room out of the way so we have room to practice.”

“It’s not a violent spell, we won’t be blasting anything,” Harry pointed out. “Although maybe your Patronus will be an elephant or something large.”

Draco looked scandalised. “I’m sure it will be graceful and elegant, just like me,” he said, obviously trying to fake a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Hey.” Harry placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder and turned him slightly so they were facing each other. “Even if we don’t get this today, it doesn’t mean you can’t cast one, alright? It’s a complicated spell —”

“A spell nearly everyone I know can cast.”

“What about your co-workers in the potions lab?”  

Draco shrugged half-heartedly. “I’ve no idea. They’re content to stay inside with the cauldrons.”

“And you are trying to do something to improve people’s lives,” Harry pointed out. “You have the motivation, and I personally think you have the skill.”

“Tch,” Draco scoffed. “Well of course I have the skill, that’s not the issue.”

“Yeah, you can stop going on about how you’re such an evil little shit deep down. We both know that’s not the case. You’re just being defencive.” 

“It’s slightly worrisome how well you know me.” Draco regarded Harry with a searching look, then moved toward the centre of his cleared-out sitting room. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“Right.” Even though he was nervous to be here with Draco, Harry was looking forward to teaching him. He thought back to the DA in fifth year, and to McGonagall’s repeated assurances that there was a place for him at Hogwarts. “I think the best place to start is a demonstration.”

“Never miss a chance to show off, do you?” Draco’s smirk was playful rather than goading.

“You know it,” Harry replied jokingly. “Now watch my wand movements. Expecto Patronum!

The familiar stag leapt from Harry’s wand and pranced around the room several times before coming to stand between them. Draco watched it, awed; his fingers twitched but he didn’t raise his hand.

“They used to say it was a rare ability,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the stag. “That’s not quite accurate. Rather, it was a spell attempted rarely. There was a long period of time where it wasn’t needed, with the Dementors under control at Azkaban. Then more people started using it during the war, and once its usefulness in communication was revealed, it was taught more often, and then became part of the seventh year curriculum.”

“I thought I was supposed to be teaching here,” Harry teased. Draco didn’t respond, still entranced, his eyes reflecting the glow of the Patronus. Harry swished his wand quickly, causing it to dissipate. “I’ll cast again.”

“You can just show me the wand movement.”

“Alright, then. Here, start with your wrist like this —” Harry held his wand out, demonstrating “— on Expecto. Then move like this for the second part of the incantation.”

Draco watched him carefully, his own wrist mirroring the movement. “Seems simple enough.” He went through the motions several more times, then faltered. “It’s what comes next that I’m unsure of.”

“Have you been thinking about what memory to use?”

Draco shifted from one foot to the other. “Does it have to be a memory? I’ve read some discussion that happy thoughts can also work.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not quite the same. I mean, it can work in theory, but the emotion you’re using has to be really strong. Just thinking about something you want usually won’t work. It has to be something you actually experienced.”

“I suppose that makes sense. After all, thinking about something you want to happen still carries the pain of unfulfillment, no matter how strong the desire is.”

“You make it sound really poetic.” Harry laughed. 

“Just distracting you from how nervous I am.”

“And you know, if you’re worried… You don't have to tell me what you’re thinking of.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Draco murmured. He assumed the stance that Harry had shown him. “Alright, then. Here goes.”

As Harry expected, Draco’s first few attempts produced nothing but disappointment. With each try, Draco grew more tense, until his wrists were too stiff for the first wand movement. “Here,” Harry said, stepping up to him and gently correcting his posture with a touch on the shoulder. It was the closest they’d been since their… whatever it was had ended, and Harry knew he wasn’t imagining the blush creeping over Draco’s cheeks, but he moved away immediately. “Try it again.”

A faint wisp emerged from Draco’s wand. “Oh! Did you see that!”

“See? I told you it was possible!” 

Draco grew even more determined, but as before, with each successive attempt he let his frustration take hold of him and grew sloppier with his wand movement. 

“Don’t give up now,” Harry said, touching his arm to move it into place once more. This time he lingered — to settle Draco’s posture, of course, nothing more. “And don’t overthink it. Just feel yourself in that memory, in its warmth. Imagine it as real as the moment it happened to you, as if it’s happening right now —”

Expecto Patronum!

And there it was, spilling from Draco’s wand, long and lean. It darted sinuously between Draco’s ankles and paused to look up at Harry. Draco stared in awe.

“A mongoose.”

“A huh?” Harry did know what that was, actually. He was just too busy being charmed by the graceful yet adorable spectral animal gazing up at him from Draco’s feet.

“They hunt snakes. Rather ironic.” He followed his Patronus’ eyes up to Harry’s. “It likes you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry grinned slyly at Draco. “It looks a little like a —”

“First person to call it a ferret is getting hexed.”

Harry laughed as Draco flicked his wrist and the mongoose faded away. “I knew you could do it.”

“I — I can’t quite believe I managed it,” Draco spoke after a moment of silence. He was still pressed against Harry, having made no move to retreat. “Thank you.”

“I just showed you the method. The casting, the memory, that was all you.” Harry was quite curious as to what that memory had been, but he wasn’t going to push.

“Not all of it,” Draco murmured, glancing up at Harry, his eyes flicking down to his mouth, then back up. “You’re a very good teacher, you know,” he said almost absently.

“You’re, um, a good student. A fast learner.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Well, I suppose that’s it, unless you want to try again —”

Out of nowhere, Draco kissed him.

It wasn’t like their kind, soft kisses from before. Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s almost wildly, one hand coming up to clutch at his neck and reel him in. Harry was startled, but didn’t pull away, the part of him that so desperately wanted Draco back taking over almost immediately, his body running ahead of his mind. 

His lips were all too happy to work against Draco’s, but eventually his thoughts caught up, spurred on by the feeling of Draco’s fingers trailing down the collar of his jumper. What is this? Did he change his mind? Why?

Draco had told him pretty clearly that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But that had been some time ago. Maybe it was the teaching session — had Draco realised how nicely they worked together? And he’d also said he never had enough time… had he just been scared? Had waiting helped him see that Harry could fit into his life? 

Whatever he was thinking, it had lit a fire in Draco that was previously unseen. Before, he had been quite deliberate in his affections; now he seemed as if he were trying to devour Harry whole, artlessly licking into his mouth. It was all Harry could do to keep up. After a minute of fumbling kisses, he could feel himself quickly hardening, but he tried to put that aside — this was going much faster than their previous snogging sessions had, but maybe Draco simply wanted to kiss and not go further. That was fine with Harry. This was more than he ever dreamed he’d get again. 

Yet no sooner than he thought this is enough, he felt himself being pushed backwards, stumbling a bit before the sofa hit the back of his legs. Harry went down in a heap, Draco following somehow more elegantly, coming to rest in Harry's lap. He didn’t break the kiss, didn’t give Harry a chance to catch his breath. They’d never been closer, but something seemed off, and Harry managed to gasp “Wait!” He pulled back to look searchingly at Draco's flushed face, his panting mouth red from kissing. Harry placed a palm on his cheek, partly to feel the soft skin there, but mostly to hold Draco away.

“You said…” Harry’s brain was foggy and overwhelmed by the sudden turn of his fortune. He frantically tried to recall their conversation when Draco had told him ‘no.’ “You said everything was too much,” he finally remembered.

Draco didn’t move from his perch, but he leaned back, searching Harry’s face. “You’ll always be too much, Potter,” he said, so quietly Harry could barely hear. He turned his face into Harry’s grasp, then licked at his hand. Harry twitched, then whimpered as Draco started to suck on one, then two of his fingers.

Everything about Draco’s actions was out of character, but every movement he made was full of desire, and Harry had never felt more wanted. A tug at his hair, a pull on his shirt, yanking it from his trousers to expose the skin — Draco was pretty clear about what direction they were headed. Harry wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never felt like he was on a runaway train as part of the foreplay.

It was impossible to ignore just how hard they both were, not with Draco squirming in his lap, but Harry wasn’t going to be the one to break. It had to be Draco’s choice. Finally, Draco raised both hands to Harry's shoulders and braced himself as he pressed down, hesitantly at first. The feel of their cocks against each other, even through layers of clothing, was achingly pleasurable, and Harry couldn’t help arching up. The little gasp that move elicited from Draco was almost as sweet as the sight of him becoming lost in his own desire. He ground down harder and Harry grabbed at his bony hips, holding him firmly. Draco bit his lip as he glanced down between them, before slowly reaching down to unbutton his trousers.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry couldn’t help but curse as the head of Draco’s cock peeked out at him. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Draco said with an edge in his voice. 

“That wasn’t what I was asking — ohhhh, fuck.” Draco’s hand had found Harry’s cock, and he was rubbing him through the fabric. Haltingly, Harry reached down to help with the buttons, Draco’s eager yet shaky fingers getting in the way several times before they both pulled themselves out.

The first drag of skin on skin made Harry throw his head back against the sofa. His moment of inattentiveness cost him his grip, and suddenly Draco was holding them both, jerking them off together. He only stopped to lick his palm, and then it was both hot and wet, and there was no way Harry was going to last long. He managed to look up again and was treated to Draco blushing with pleasure, eyes half-lidded and mouth opened in a moan. He looked more erotic than Harry had ever dared imagine him. He seemed to be getting close as well, his stroking now accompanied by little bouncing motions in Harry’s lap as he rocked into his own fist, fucking his cock along Harry’s. His long fingers tightened, and Harry thought he was about to watch Draco come, when his own orgasm hit him out of nowhere. 

It seemed to go on forever. Deep down, his mind still clouded with doubts, Harry wished it would, that they could stay in this moment forever and not have to face the inevitable questions.

Draco’s eyes were now wide as he stared down at Harry’s come pulsing out over his hand, and with a sharp cry he reached his peak as well. 

They were silent in the aftermath, their panting breaths echoing around the room. Harry hadn’t known it was possible to come that hard from simply wanking together. At last he spoke, still dazed as his body shuddered with the aftermath of his truly spectacular orgasm. 

“We fit so well together. I knew we would.”

Above him, Draco froze. Carefully he withdrew, standing and buttoning his trousers, looking anywhere but at Harry. It took Harry longer to get his bearings; he still sprawled limply across the cushions. 

“I need to move the sofa back.”

“I… what?” Harry blinked in confusion.

“The sofa. I need to put the furniture back in place.” Draco was already waving his wand at the armchair and side table, floating them to their previous arrangements.

“Oh, sure.” Harry stood awkwardly, his softening cock flopping out of his trousers. He quickly set himself to rights and moved aside so the sofa could be manoeuvred back into the centre of the room. Draco didn’t seem to be one for cuddling in the aftermath, that was fine, Harry could get used to that — was he going to have the opportunity to get used to it?

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Harry offered, the question of why? implied in his tone.

Draco turned to him quizzically, no evidence of their encounter left in his expression. “My mind?”

“About us being together. I wasn’t going to push you, you know, but I still… yeah.”

Stilted, Draco leaned over and fluffed one of the pillows Harry’s arse had pressed down. “Can’t two people have fun together?” he asked nonchalantly.

Harry suddenly felt hollow. “Fun?” he asked faintly.

“Did you not have fun?” Draco looked pointedly at his crotch.

“I — of course, but —”

“I still don’t have time to pursue a relationship,” Draco continued smoothly, backing toward the kitchen. There was a glint of panic in his eyes, but Harry was too upset to care or be delicate with his feelings. 

“You might have said that,” he grumbled, “before you jumped me.”

Draco did his best to look abashed. “It was an intense moment,” he protested.

“Sure, fine.” Harry followed him to the door, able to take a hint and suddenly wanting to be anywhere else. Rejected again. He needed to lick his wounds elsewhere, somewhere that Draco’s intense eyes weren’t boring a hole into him. And he needed to clean his trousers.

“You know, I liked you better before all this,” he grumbled under his breath. Draco started beside him as he opened the door.

“This?”

“Yeah,” Harry waved a hand between them. “This.” Draco’s lip trembled, his facade threatening to crumble, and Harry took pity on him. He was still head-over-heels for the bastard, after all, even if his pride was stung. “Never mind. I’ll see you around.”

“Right.” Draco looked away, then back. “Thank you. For the lesson,” His hand tightened on the door jamb, and he continued softer. “I meant it, you know. You’re a very good teacher.”

That was cold comfort to Harry as he made his way home.