Actions

Work Header

Don't search me in here

Work Text:

It was the third Ministry charity ball in just as many weeks. It had something to do with raising money for plants this time, Draco thought. Or was it war orphans? He had no clue, he got the invitations and attended no matter what, like a good Ministry boy.

Draco was standing at the bar, nursing a vodka on the rocks. It tasted awful, but he thought it somehow made him look a little more sophisticated. Not that he needed that, mind! He looked down on himself, fiddling a little with the hem of his robe.

He always went all out to get new robes for every occasion. Say what you want about Draco Malfoy, but there was nothing faulty about his fashion sense. This night he was wearing a dark maroon suit under an embroidered robe, which had an amazing fall, if he could say so himself. He could. And he did, to anyone who would listen. Pansy had left his side a little while ago, she’d spotted the Weasley girl and left mid sentence. She had no patience, that one. Perhaps she didn’t need it, Draco thought, as he saw the two girls sneak out of the the place.

He searched the room, knowing that the poor sod would be here somewhere. He always was. Finally, Draco spotted him in a corner, crowded by Ministry employees. He looked like an animal, trapped in a cage. He had a strained smile on his face, and his eyes were looking everywhere else than on the people in front of him. Draco contemplated for a second to go and save him, again, but his former attempts at doing so had all fallen flat. He’d tried to walk up to Potter to strike a conversation, knowing how it felt to be in a place for the sole reason that someone else wanted you to, but usually he could only get a few words out of Potter before someone else sweeped in and took over the conversation. Sometimes he’d tried a different approach, by trying to get a rise out of Potter, but Potter was still wary of Draco, though they’d been working in the same building for years now. So this night, Draco thought Potter wouldn’t welcome his approach anyway.

Draco had made an attempt to apologize at the start of their eighth year, but Potter had only nodded and then they hadn’t spoken for the rest of the term. It’d bothered Draco at the time, he wanted to feel that he’d made amends, but now, looking back, he couldn’t blame Potter for being cold and distant. From what Draco had seen, Potter had spent his last term being plastered to the Weasley girl, looking more and more contented the closer to summer they’d got. It had been a good look on him: being happy.

After school had ended, Draco had buried himself in studies, and applied for an internship at Gringotts. He’d got accepted on his fifth try, started out as an errand boy and then slowly worked himself upwards. He’d run into Potter from time to time, it always had something to do with some new investigation, and everytime he and his auror partners came by, Potter had a new higher ranking.

Their acquaintances had started out strained, to say the least. When Draco started at the Ministry, Potter had welcomed him with a brief handshake, and that was it. Now they nodded to each other in passing, and sometimes made stilted conversation when they were forced together at gatherings or meetings.

 

Draco shook his head. This night wasn’t for reminiscing about his fragile friendship with Potter. He downed the rest of his drink, and let his eyes search the room again. This was getting boring, so when he locked eyes with Michael Corner, he raised his eyebrows in a silent invitation and nodded towards the exit. Michael smirked at him, and gave a discreet nod back. Draco put his glass down, and gave Potter a last glance. He had started to sweat now, tiny pearls on his forehead that got reflected in the lights from the ceiling. Just before Draco left the room, he saw Granger politely steering Potter away from the crowd.

Michael was funny, in his own sort of way, and not too sore on the eyes. So when they stood waiting for the elevator, Draco didn’t object to Michael pressing him up against the wall beside it. Draco chuckled at Michael’s poor attempt at dirty talk, and tried to get himself in the mood by closing his eyes instead, conjuring fantasies of a different voice whispering in his ear. The elevator pinged, announcing its arrival, and when Draco opened his eyes again he found himself staring right at Potter over Michael’s shoulder. Potter had a frown on his face, and Draco couldn’t help but gently push Michael away from him. All three of them entered the elevator.

“Going down?” Potter asked, a hand hovering over the buttons on the panel.

Michael snorted at the same time Draco coughed out a “No!” They both looked at him. “I mean yes! Yes, we’re going down. In the elevator.”

Draco must’ve imagined it, but he thought he saw a tiny twitch at the corner of Potter’s mouth. Potter pushed the button and the elevator began moving. It was an awkward silence and Michael repeatedly tried to take Draco’s hand, only stopping when Draco gave him a hard look.

“Did you enjoy your evening, Potter?” Draco asked.

“Sure, it was fine,” Potter said to the panel on the wall, not looking at Draco or Michael.

They stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and when the doors opened Potter left first without a goodbye.

Draco and Michael only came as far as outside the Ministry when Draco kissed his cheek and wished him a good night. Somehow he wasn’t feeling it anymore. He disapparated before Michael could say anything.

 


 

The Leaky was loud and obnoxious, if you asked Draco. Not that anyone did. It wasn’t that he cared. He was used to being left out of conversations that didn’t involve his job. He liked it that way, people were horrible anyway. He had worked as a financial adviser to Minister Shacklebolt for four years now, he was good at his job and everyone knew it. The Ministry's financial situation had never been better, thanks to him. So what if he didn’t have friends lining up to be with him? Not everyone could overlook what he’d done, and he had learned to accept that.

This night he was drinking firewhiskey, but only because the bartender had looked at him funny when he asked for his classic vodka. He didn’t like the Leaky and most of the time he declined every invite from Pansy to meet up here. But, tonight was Pansy’s birthday and she wanted to celebrate somewhere, where her Gryffindor friends were more comfortable.

 

Draco scoffed to himself. They had come a long way since the war, especially since Pansy prioritized Gryffindors over him. But he loved her, so he could endure one night at this shitty establishment, watching the group from where he sat alone at the bar. He knew he was only accepted to join by the grace of Pansy, and he had no interest in making conversation with people who loathed him. He suspected the feeling was mutual, for most of them.

Potter was heading for the bar for the fourth time in only an hour. He nodded to Draco, as he’d done the three times before, and waved to get attention from the bartender. It was getting ridiculous, no one needed to go to the bar that often in that short amount of time. Draco could see from Potter’s tense jaw and his clenched fist that he was uncomfortable.

“Thirsty, Potter?” Draco said, casually.

Potter startled at Draco’s voice, and turned to him with a strained look on his face. “What? Oh, no! I’m not… It’s not for me this time. I mean, the water is for me, not the, not the other stuff,” he mumbled.

Draco raised his hands, in a gesture to stop Potter from rambling on any further. “Relax! I’m not judging you. Drink all of it and see if I care. I’m only pointing out that perhaps one of your companions could fetch drinks as well, couldn’t they?”

“Well, yes. But I offered. It’s good to move around a bit.” Potter swallowed, and then paid for his drinks that the bartender had put before him.

Draco watched as Potter scooped up ice cubes from his water and squeezed them in his hand, and then dragged them over his forehead, water seeping between his fingers. He stopped and then looked at Draco’s raised eyebrows.

“It’s a bit warm in here, don’t you think?” Potter said, nervously.

Draco didn’t say anything, just waved his hand and wordlessly cast a cooling charm over Potter, who shuddered in response.

“Um, thank you?”

“One would think you’ve forgotten that you are, in fact, a wizard?” Draco took a sip of his drink and stood up. “I’m going to give my best wishes to Pansy. Have a nice evening, Potter.” He started to walk away from the bar when Potter’s arm shot out and grabbed Draco by the elbow.

“Malfoy, wait!” Potter dropped his arm as fast as he had grabbed it. “You could join us? At our table, I mean.”

Draco turned and looked at Potter, who still had a tense vibe all over him, not really meeting Draco’s eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but no. I’m late for my date.” Draco said, taking a last look on Potter face who suddenly looked a bit more closed off. If he didn’t knew better, he would say that Potter looked disappointed, but that was a crazy thought so Draco shook it off.

He went and gave Pansy a kiss on the cheek. She didn’t fuss over his departure, he’d only promised her an hour, after all.

Draco went for the door and turned back to give Pansy a final wave, but she was occupied with Potter, who was whispering something in her ear. She looked at Potter, shaking her head while laughing and patted him on the back.

Draco apparated home to his “hot date”; a good book and several glasses of goblin wine.

Later, just when Draco was about to go to bed, his fireplace roared to life. A giggling Pansy showed her face, looking a bit tipsy.

“Draco, dear? Where’s your date?” She laughed.

Draco put down his book, and kneeled by the fireplace.

“You know very well that I don’t have a date, Pans,” he sighed.

She snorted. “Yes, I know, and that’s what I told Potter.”

“You did what?” Draco gasped, that stupid bint.

“He wouldn’t shut up about it. I only told him the truth.”

“Why would you do such a thing? Now everyone will think I’m a poor lonely sod, wallowing in my own misery.” Draco dragged his hand over his face.

“Well you are, my dear!” Pansy smirked.

“By choice!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Pansy smiled, a bit softer this time. “I need to go, Ginny wants a nightcap.” Pansy winked at Draco. “Sleep tight, darling.” She blew him a kiss and ended the call.

Draco sat by the fireplace, staring into the empty flames. By choice, he told himself. By choice.

 


 

Draco was sitting at his desk looking over some papers Shacklebolt had left him. He was deep in his reading when the door to the office was slammed open, and a furious Harry Potter stormed out. He was halfway through the room when Shacklebolt appeared in his doorway.

“Now, now, Harry! Don’t be this way, my boy. It’s only a small gathering.”

Harry turned abruptly and pointed a finger to Shacklebolt. “Don’t you my boy me, Kingsley! You told me I could miss out on this one. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the Auror department.”

“It will benefit us very much if you show up, Harry!” Shacklebolt answered.

“So I do not even represent the Aurors then? I’m just going to make you look good, is that it?”

Draco could see Shacklebolt flinch, and at least he looked a little guilty about it.

“No,” he obviously lied. “We need our best Ministry employees at the ball, to make a spectacular evening. And that’s my last say in it. I will expect to see you there tonight.” Shacklebolt went back into his office, but before he closed the door, he popped his head out again and addressed his secretary, who sat across from Draco. “No more visits today, Dora!” She nodded and tried her best not to stare at Potter, who was still standing in the middle of the room, glaring at Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt then turned to Draco. “I’ll need the latest numbers from the Department of Magical Games and Sports.” Then he disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.

Great, more work, Draco thought. He would be late for the ball tonight if he was supposed to be done with two reports and shop for new robes. God forbid he’d wear something he’d worn before.

Potter, who’d been standing, still panting, startled when Shacklebolt closed the door and looked at Draco. Draco could see from Potter’s face that he’d forgot Draco sat there.

Draco tried to lighten the mood. “I guess I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Potter snorted. “Yes, it seems like it. Fuck!” He shook his head, and left the room.

Dora waited for exactly 30 seconds before she opened her mouth. Draco counted.

“Well, I must say,” she said, raising her hand and put it over her chest. “Did you know that he already stormed out of Mr Shacklebolt’s office last week, before the last ball? I really don’t get him! Shouldn’t he be grateful for everything we give him? He has it all, doesn't he? Would it kill him to give a little back?” she continued, completely oblivious to the fact that Draco wasn’t chipping in. She usually ranted for a while, didn’t much matter who it was that left Shacklebolt's office.

In the first year or so, Draco had been furious about not getting his own office. He’d left Gringotts to come and work for the Ministry, and with that he’d left behind a big office and his own assistants. But after a while he’d felt that his place outside the Minister's office wasn’t too bad after all. He wasn’t hidden away in a corner somewhere. Everyone could see that it was Draco Malfoy who was trusted with the Ministry’s money, and that pleased Draco immensely. And most of the day he didn’t even mind Dora gossiping, about everything and everybody. She always revealed something scandalous that he could tell Pansy later over drinks. But, some things she said about Potter rubbed him the wrong way.

He tuned in again as she kept on going. “And that pretty girl of his, that beautiful Ginny girl, no wonder he couldn't keep her if he’s that ungrateful. Maybe he’s a terrible lover. I’ve heard he’s a terrible lover. Haven’t you heard that he is a terrible lover?”

Draco shook his head. “He and the Weasley girl broke it off years ago.” He took one look at Dora’s raised eyebrows and cleared his throat. “I think,” he said, as he started to look through his numbers again.

“Don’t you think he’s letting himself go a little? I mean that beard could use a little trim. And don’t even get me started on his hair. Is it really appropriate for a head Auror to have long hair? And to put in that ridiculous bun on his head? It just won’t do. He really should go to my friend Elise, you know the Muggle hairdresser? I told you about her, right?”

“Dora, with all due respect. Can we please stop gossiping about Potter? I really need to get some work done.”

“But, don’t you think he’s starting to look…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “a bit fat?”

Draco slammed his folder down on the table, “Dora! Harry Potter is not fat. And even if he was, so what? The man saved the whole fucking world, can we please let him be? His hair is fine! His beard is fine! And I’m pretty sure he’s also a very fine lover!” Draco slumped down in his chair and dragged a hand over his face. Dora looked at him with wide eyes.

Someone cleared their throat to Draco’s left, and he suddenly felt like he was drenched by a bucket of ice. He slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Potter.

“I’m just going to…” Potter pointed to Shacklebolt’s door. “I left my wand in there.”

“Go ahead, Mr Potter!” Dora said, still with her eyes on Draco.

Potter went into Shacklebolt’s office and came out with his wand a couple of seconds later. He walked across the room with long strides, and didn’t look at either Dora or Draco as he left, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

Draco looked through his fingers at Dora. “Not a fucking word!”

The rest of the day, Draco buried himself in work, ignoring Dora’s attempts to talk to him. It’d been a long time since Draco had felt this humiliated. He skipped lunch and was desperately trying to come up with a believable excuse to miss out on the ball that evening.

When Shacklebolt left at 6 pm he gave Draco a pat on the shoulder.

“Please don’t be late tonight Draco. I want you to meet with a friend of mine from Estonia, he’s been dying to meet you and quiz you about the analysing system you came up with.”

So, no escaping then. “I’ll do my best, sir. I still have some work left to do.”

“Nonsense, Draco. That can wait. Off you go, now!” Shacklebolt put on his travelling cloak and left the room.

Draco put everything on his desk back to its rightful place, and stood up. He had never before given in to shame, and he wasn’t going to do so today either. Maybe Potter hadn’t heard it all, maybe he was just flustered because of their raised voices. Yes, that was probably it. But, if Draco was going to that damn ball, he was going to look impeccable. He had some shopping to do.

 


 

Fashionably late, with a Muggle suit that looked like it was glued to his body, Draco was back at the Ministry, entering the ballroom with Blaise.

“So, who are we trying to fool, dear?” Blaise whispered in Draco’s ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco scanned the room, and clutched Blaise’s arm a little closer to him.

“You haven’t clung this much to me since eighth year, and that was only because you wanted my dick up your arse.” Blaise started to nibble on Draco’s ear.

“No need to be crude!” Draco said as he discreetly shoved Blaise off him, without trying to make a scene. “That ship has sailed a long time ago.”

Blaised just laughed at Draco’s attempt at shoving him away, and put an arm around his waist instead. “That makes me repeat my question. Who are we trying to fool?”

Draco didn’t answer. He had spotted Minister Shacklebolt who saw him and waved him over.

“I need to speak to the Minister, please behave while I’m gone.”

“You know I never do.” Blaise winked at Draco and went to the bar, several heads turning as he went by. That man was too good looking for his own good.

Two hours later Draco could feel his head spin. He’d been talking to the wizard Shacklebolt wanted him to meet, and though he loved his job, there was a limit to how much time he could spend on explaining something that the other party clearly didn’t understand. He excused himself after agreeing they would continue this over owl, and headed to the bar for some much needed alcohol.

As he approached, he saw Blaise talking to Potter, and they stood awfully close together. Draco could once again see the beads of sweat breaking out on Potter’s forehead. Potter was clutching his glass in his hand, holding it so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. Blaise was leaning into Potter and had a hand on his lower back, stroking it up and down. A really bad feeling spread through Draco. He felt like he tasted something terribly bitter, and that he was going to be sick. He refused to examine that feeling any closer, but something told him to break up this encounter immediately. Anyone with eyes could see that Potter was uncomfortable. He didn’t know why he cared or thought that he could solve this situation, but his body made the decision before his brain caught up. He squeezed himself between the two of them and nodded at Potter before he turned to Blaise.

“Enough! Go and flirt somewhere else!” he hissed, hoping Potter wouldn’t hear him.

Blaise snorted out a laugh. “Ah, Potter. I should’ve known.” He gave Draco a patronizing smile, kissed him on the cheek and left.

Draco reluctantly turned to Potter again. There was a drink placed in front of Draco, a Vodka on the rocks. He looked at Potter with his eyebrows raised.

“That’s your drink, right?” Potter nodded to it. “I thought you might need one after your Mr Rebane encounter. We’ve all been there. He is a bit slow on the uptake.”

Draco nodded, ”You don’t say?” He sipped his drink and tried to suppress all the confusing feelings over Potter knowing his order. Malfoys were above feeling confused.

Draco cleared his throat. ”I’m sorry about Blaise. He’s such a flirt, and boundaries aren't his strong suit. I apologize if he made you feel uncomfortable.

Potter shook his head. ”No, it’s okay. No need to apologize. Maybe I’m the one who should say sorry, for stealing your boyfriend when you were occupied with Mr. Boring.”

Draco snorted out a laugh. ”Blaise isn’t my partner. He doesn’t do boyfriends.”

Potter gave him a scrutinizing look a couple of seconds too long, then he looked down.

”Do you?” Harry said, more to his drink than to Draco.

”Do I what?” Draco asked, curious.

”Boyfriends?” Potter raised his eyes meeting Draco’s. ”Do you do boyfriends?”

Draco swallowed. ”Depends on the boy in question.”

Potter nodded, and they were left standing looking at each other. “Michael Corner?” Potter suddenly blurted out.

“What about him?” Draco raised his eyebrows.

“Is he? Is he a boy in question?”

Draco looked Potter straight in the eyes and shook his head. “No, definitely not.”

Potter stared back. Draco could feel the tension building between them, and was just about to take a step closer, when they were interrupted by Shacklebolt, who dropped a heavy hand on each of their shoulders.

”Ah! Harry and Draco! Lovely event so far, don’t you think?” Shacklebolt said.

Potter startled and took a small step back, making his drink slosh over his hand. Draco could feel his stomach clench with the urge to grab Potter’s hand and lick the liquor off his fingers. He shook his head to make the images go away, and turned to Shacklebolt.

”Yes, sir, congratulations on a great event!” He shook Shacklebolt’s hand.

Potter didn’t answer. He gave Draco a look that was hard to describe as anything other than heated. He put his drink down and patted Shacklebolt on the back before he walked away. Everything in Draco screamed at him to follow Potter, but Shacklebolt stopped him, wanting to hear everything he and Mr Rebane had discussed.

When Shacklebolt finally left, Draco scanned the ballroom. There was no need to search for Potter in here, he was already gone.

 


 

Work was hectic the next day and he found it hard to concentrate. He hadn’t bothered looking for Potter after Shacklebolt left the night before, instead he’d apparated straight home and got himself off to the memories of Potter’s heated gaze. He had a hard time sleeping afterwards, because too many thoughts about what it all meant were buzzing in his head.

The lack of sleep made Draco unfocused, and he was late with several reports, which made Shacklebolt order him to stay until he was done. Dora also stayed late, talking Draco’s ears off with how hot Blaise was, and she didn’t leave until Draco promised to put in a good word for her. Shacklebolt left shortly after, making Draco the last person on their floor.

He was deep in numbers when he heard the elevator ping. Without looking up, he called out, “Mr Shacklebolt isn’t here. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I’m not here for Kingsley.”

Draco dropped his quill at the sound of Potter’s voice. He was standing by the door, in a pair of Muggle jeans and a grey T-shirt that showed off a body that Draco wanted to devour. He tried looking everywhere else than on Potter, but at last Draco couldn’t help himself from checking him out, letting his gaze travel from head to toe, noticing how Potter, unlike before, seemed relaxed. When he looked up again he could see a tiny smile on Potter’s face.

“Dora’s not here either,” Draco said.

Potter laughed, out loud. Draco couldn’t remember if he ever heard Potter laugh so uninhibited around him before. “I’m so not here for Dora.”

“Then who are you here for? I’m the only one left.”

“Now who is the one being a bit slow on the uptake, Malfoy?” Potter smiled, walking towards Draco.

Draco swallowed. “Don’t you dare compare me to that moron.” He tried to snarl, but it came out more breathless than intended. He was nervous, and nothing good could ever come out of being nervous around Potter.

Potter was now standing at his desk. “You left yesterday.”

You left. You were gone when I was done with Shacklebolt.” Draco turned in his chair, facing Potter.

“I didn’t go that far. I came here.” Potter seated himself on the edge of Draco’s desk. “I was thinking that you might show up.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware that you wanted me to show up.”

Potter smiled again. “Well, I did. It seems like we’re always interrupted when we finally get a chance to talk to each other. If it isn’t Kingsley, or your dates, then it’s always someone who drags me away from you. So, as I said, I came here, waiting for you.”

Draco had several questions racing through his head, the most prominent one was why Potter wanted to talk to him? He was about to ask why he never said anything, but Potter’s voice indicated that he perhaps wanted to do other stuff than just talk, so Draco settled on asking, “why were you waiting for me?”

Potter’s eyes swept over Draco, then over the table. “I was thinking I could perhaps prove myself.”

Draco could feel his stomach clench with anticipation. He stood up and approached Potter. A sliver of fear ran through his body, and just to be sure he actually understood what this meant, he put his hands on each side of Potter on the table, caging him, and leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Prove yourself?”

Potter shivered and swallowed, and then he said with a smirk “that I, indeed, am a very fine lover.”

Draco snorted and then he didn’t even waste a second before he was nuzzling Potter’s neck, breathing in his scent and then started to kiss his way across Potter’s jaw to his mouth. Draco could feel the intake of breath before their mouths met in a soft kiss. It was nothing like Draco had anticipated. He’d never let himself think about how it would be to kiss Harry Potter, the knowledge that it would never happen was too hard to bear, so all of his fantasies had been vague, with a poor excuse that the black haired man he’d imagined was someone else.

Draco deepened the kiss and was awarded with Potter’s hands on his hips, tugging him closer. He put one of his hands in Potter’s hair, the other one clutching his jaw. He broke the kiss to look at Potter. “You want this?” he asked.

Potter nodded, squeezing Draco’s hips. Draco kissed him again, once, then he took a step back and grabbed the hem of Potter’s T-shirt and pulled it off. He traced his hands over his chest and let one of his fingers sweep over a nipple. Potter gasped and started to work on opening Draco’s buttons on his shirt. He was fumbling, so Draco took pity on him and spelled the shirt open.

“That’s so hot!” Potter breathed out. “You, doing wandless magic. I almost came in my pants when you cast that cooling charm over me on Pansy’s birthday.” He pushed the shirt off Draco’s shoulders and started to place soft kisses on his collarbones. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Potter murmured between kisses.

Draco couldn’t remember anyone calling him beautiful before, he had to close his eyes to hide away the onslaught of emotions that were probably showing in his eyes. He took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again, he put one hand in Potter’s hair and carefully pulled his head up so he could kiss him again. Somewhere in between kisses he breathed out Harry’s name. Harry broke the kiss and looked into Draco’s eyes, he gave him a tiny smile and then he kissed him again. There was more heat to the kiss this time, and he could feel Harry’s erection pushing against his own.

“I’ve thought about this.” Harry whispered in his ear. “Thought about you, bending me over your desk. Your precious papers flying everywhere.”

Draco chuckled. “That could be arranged.”

 

He kissed Harry and dragged one hand down his torso. When he reached the waistband he popped the button open in Harry’s jeans and spun him around. He slowly pulled the jeans down along with Harry’s pants, then put his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades and carefully pressed him down the table. Harry grabbed the end of his desk with both of his hand’s and murmured something Draco couldn’t hear. But when he looked down on the sight in front of him, and grabbed both of Harry’s arse cheeks to part them a little, he could see Harry’s hole glistening, and the faint smell of a cleaning charm lingered in the air.

Draco pushed his hand down on his own cock so he wouldn’t come at the sight alone. “Did you just…?”

“Yes,” Harry panted, “You’re not the only one who can do wandless magic.”

Draco had one hand left on Harry’s arse, leaving his hole exposed only for Draco. He let his thumb rubbing circles around it, and then gently pushed the tip in, only to pull it out again. The second time, he let his thumb go further, and felt the heat inside of Harry, imagined his own cock doing the same.

“You don’t have to prep me,” Harry grunted out. “Please, just fuck me!”

Draco kept fucking Harry with his thumb, going as slowly as possible. He didn’t know if he’d ever get the opportunity to do this again, so he was going to savour it. Taking as much time as Harry would let him, making it memorable.

“I’m selfish, Potter, please let me indulge a little.” He pulled his thumb out, then switched and pushed two fingers inside instead.

Harry was trembling on the desk, he parted his legs as much as the trousers around his ankles let him, and pushed back on Draco’s fingers. “Stop being such a fucking tease and fuck me already.”

Draco withdrew his fingers and spelled his trousers open, easing them down along with his pants so that only his cock was showing. He conjured some lube and coated himself, then pressed the tip to Harry’s hole without pushing in, just to get Harry begging again. Harry rewarded him by swearing and pushing back his whole body, so that Draco’s cock slowly inched in.

 

When he was buried deep in Harry’s arse, he leaned over and whispered; “Is this what you wanted, Harry?” He pulled out a little and pushed back in again. “My cock, deep inside of you?” Harry only whined as an answer. “Is this what you imagined would happen if I found you here yesterday?” Draco pulled out fully and aligned his cock again against Harry’s arsehole.

“Yes! Draco, fuck, please just give it to me!”

Draco pushed in a bit harder this time, forcing a moan out of Harry. Harry put his head down on the desk and gritted out, “harder!” Draco grabbed Harry’s hips and started to fuck him in earnest, each thrust more forceful than the one before. He could see Harry’s knuckles whitening, trying to hold on to the table. Harry was meeting Draco with every push, and Draco had never seen anything hotter than Harry Potter leaning over his table, trying to fuck himself on Draco’s cock. He took one of his hands and put it around Harry’s cock, which was smearing pre come all over Draco’s desk drawers. He began stroking Harry in timing with his own thrusts, his knuckles banging against the drawers at every pull. Something primal stirred in him at the thought that Harry would come all over something that belonged to him.

“Fuck, Draco! Close, I’m so close!” Harry gasped out.

“Come, Harry! Do it! I want to feel you.” Draco slammed in harder, still stroking Harry as well as he could manage. Hot liquid started to spill over Draco’s knuckles, and Harry clenched down hard as he came, making guttural sounds that Draco knew he would do anything to hear again. With one final push, Draco was coming as well, plastering himself over Harry’s back. Draco kept his hand on Harry’s cock as he spurted inside him, breathing hard into Harry’s neck. A hiss from Harry made him let go of his cock, and he started to pull out.

“Don’t!” Harry said, and his arm flung around and he laid a hand on Draco’s arse, pushing him closer.

Draco stayed inside as they both got their breaths in order. He nuzzled against Harry’s neck, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and sex that lingered on his skin.

“So,” Harry said, tilting his head back with a smile, to get a look at Draco. “Did I prove myself?”

Draco pulled out slowly, and dropped down on his chair behind him. “You’ll never have to prove yourself to me, Harry. You must know that.” He leaned forward and grabbed Harry’s arse cheeks, spread them apart, and watched his come slowly drip out of Harry’s hole. He traced the trickle of come with one finger and dragged it up to Harry’s hole again, smearing it around in slow circles. “But yes, you were fucking amazing.”

Harry chuckled, and then dropped his head down on the desk with a moan when Draco pressed two fingers in, pushing as much come back inside him as he could. He wished he was younger, so he could go again immediately, but for now this was enough, hearing Harry’s moans and watching his fingers disappearing over and over again.

“Keep going, don’t stop!” Harry begged.

Draco kept the pace slow, waiting for directions. He wanted to give Harry anything he wished for.

“You should see yourself, Harry. Your hole glistening with my come. It’s the best fucking thing I have ever seen.”

Harry panted hard. “Tell me more. Please!”

Draco pushed the chair closer, so he could put kisses on Harry’s lower back, still keeping his fingers in him. He let his tongue wander down his crack, licking around his fingers.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Harry.” He licked down his perineum and back up again. I could do this forev…” he swallowed his last word. “For hours. I could do this for hours.”

“I’ll let you,” Harry grunted out, pushing back on Draco’s face.

Draco pulled out his fingers and started to fuck Harry with his tongue instead, tasting his own come. Harry started to stroke himself, but the angle seemed all wrong for him, so Draco batted his hand away and did it for him. He couldn’t help his own moans spilling out of him as he tried to make it as good for Harry as possible. He pushed one finger in again, searching for Harry’s prostate, and when he found it, he started to put more pressure to it, making Harry shake.

“Harder! More!” Harry moaned. “Please, just fuck me again!”

Draco stood up, surprised at how fast he’d got hard again, but it was impossible not to, with a willing Harry under him. He smeared his cock with the spit and come that was left and pushed in with one single thrust. He paused, savouring the feeling of Harry clenching around him again. Draco closed his eyes and let the sound and smell they made together, as Draco fucked Harry for a second time, fill all of his senses. After only a little while, Harry spilled all over Draco’s hand again. Draco opened his eyes and kept stroking him through it, and when he was done, he pulled out, ignoring Harry’s whimpering protests. He grabbed his own cock and pulled at it with hard, fast strokes. Harry turned his head and made eye contact with Draco, and that was the final push Draco needed and he came all over Harry’s back.

 

Still panting, Draco watched Harry gingerly raise himself up to standing, turning around and then pulling Draco close against him, kissing him like his life depended on it. Draco gave back as good as he got, but it was hard because he was still out of breath. He gently pushed Harry away, and put their foreheads together instead. He ran his hands over Harry’s back, which was sticky with sweat and Draco’s come. “We really should clean up,” Draco said, though not making an effort to do it.

Harry chuckled. “I think we’re too messy for a cleaning charm to take care of this.”

“Hmm? What do you suggest then?” Draco asked, but still casted a cleaning charm over them both.

“A shower? And then food,” Harry answered, and stepped away from Draco to pull up his pants and trousers. Then he picked up his t-shirt from the floor and put it on before he headed to the door.

Draco tucked himself back in and glanced over at Harry, who had turned around and looked at him with a small smile on his face. “So? Shall we?” He held out his hand to Draco.

“You want to have dinner with me?” Draco asked, taking a couple steps forward.

Harry looked at him like he was stupid. “What gave it away? Me asking you or...?”

“Shut up, you git,” Draco said, punching Harry lightly on his shoulder, trying very hard not to smile, totally failing if Harry’s answering grin was anything to go by. “I’m not using the Ministry’s showers. Their soap is atrocious. It’s my shower or no shower,” he said, with as much false bravery he could muster. “And then we’ll eat at my place. I hate crowds.”

Harry leaned in and kissed him. “No, you don't. But you know I do, so thank you.”

Draco took Harry’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. He shook his head, “It’s nothing. Don’t mention it.”

“So what are you telling Dora tomorrow?” Harry smirked.

“Not a fucking word to that bint!” Draco said, raising his finger at Harry. And then he stormed off to the elevator. Harry laughed and followed closely behind.

As they stood by the elevator, Harry grabbed Draco’s hand again, intertwining their fingers. It was a confusing feeling, the one that spread through Draco, but as they stepped into the elevator he couldn't help but to lean into Harry, placing a kiss in his hair. Harry looked at him with that look on his face, that Draco had been fortunate to see only once before. Harry looked contented.

 

Harry’s hand hovered over the button for the elevator. “Going down?” He asked Draco with a smirk.

Draco could feel himself blushing, remembering the last time Harry asked the same question.

“You know what, Potter?” Draco answered, ”I think that I will this time.”

Harry laughed as Draco pushed him into the elevator and started to unbutton his trousers, and slowly sank down on his knees with the doors closing behind them.