Title: Lucky Break
Summary: The day before Halloween Harry crashes into Draco during a friendly quidditch match. Hidden secrets come to light.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): first time sex
Epilogue compliant? EWE 8th year and AU (cause I don't like it when Snape dies)
Word Count: about 4700
Author's Notes: I'm not that good at UST, but I hope I made something right here.
Harry bit his lip and landed; his feet sank down in the deep snow. Several Slytherin players were already surrounding their fallen captain. Goyle and that new Beater, a scary looking bulky fifth year, were clenching their Beater-bats quite hard and throwing Harry glances. That was enough incentive for him not to go any closer.
Thank Merlin that it had snowed last night; it had broken the terrible fall. Yesterday Harry had been irritated over the snow. It was only the last days of October! Today, he could not thank the snow enough for falling, creating a soft mat over the Hogwarts grounds.
"Out of my way!" ordered Snape, his voice raspy from the still healing wound in his oesophagus, as he hurried on to the field, spelling the snow to melt a path before him.
The circle around Malfoy opened up and Harry could now see the boy on the ground. His left leg lay in an awkward angle. Some red stains coloured the white snow around him. There was no noise coming from the otherwise so vocal Slytherin, therefore, Harry concluded, he must be unconscious.
It was Harry’s fault, and they all knew it. Some saviour he had turned out to be… And this had only been a friendly game since the Eighth-years were not allowed on the school teams.
It had been a split-second decision. The Snitch was just beside Malfoy’s head and Harry had gone for it, at full speed. Harry’s hand had hit Malfoy in the middle of the chest. The crash had been hard enough to put the Slytherin off balance and made him fall helplessly to the ground.
Harry would later explain that the Snitch had moved. That was not true. He had been distracted by the pale winter sun glistening on Malfoy’s even paler hair. It had looked like silk and it was beautiful. Harry had just… shifted focus, and so had the direction of his speeding broom.
Malfoy looked like he’d broken his left leg from the impact with the ground. It also looked like he had fallen hands-first to protect his head, so there were probably more breaks. His broom was also broken. It lay deserted in the snow after Snape had carried Malfoy away, followed by a tail of worried Slytherins.
"Later, Potty," Goyle hissed as he passed.
"Yeah, later," the fifth year echoed menacingly.
Harry walked over to the lonely fallen broom as McGonagall’s voice told them that the game was postponed indefinitely. The handle was cracked. Harry winced. He had fallen enough times to know the pain of a fall, but he had never fallen as hard as to break his broom. His gloves were soaked with melted snow as he picked up the broken thing.
"You all right, mate?" asked Ron coming up to him. "That was brilliant!"
"Ron!" Hermione huffed. "Draco was really injured!"
"Oh, it’s Draco now is it?" Ron hissed. "Just because he asked you to help him with his Muggle studies don’t make him any less of a prat!"
"Grow up!" she pulled her winter coat more tightly around herself. "At least he is trying!"
"His broom broke…" Harry turned to look at the castle, where Malfoy almost certainly just arrived to the infirmary.
"Shit, it’s cold," huffed Ron and started walking. "C’mon let’s get back to the common room."
Harry shrank the broken broom and put it in his pocket. He followed his friends and the rest of the Quidditch audience back to the castle.
Draco lay in his hospital bed and looked down at his wrapped wrists. The rib and leg had been healed easily, but the broken wrists had to heal more slowly for mobility’s sake. It would be at least two days before he could hold his wand properly again. And with his luck, it was Friday night – which meant that he could not even use his injuries to get out of class. Sunday was Halloween so Monday had no classes, no luck in pretending lasting effects of the injuries either.
He blamed himself.
He had been distracted by Potter, looking all rough and sexy on his broom. Draco’s mind had gone places where a true sportsman’s mind was not supposed to go, at least not in the middle of a game. As he fell, he had only time to register Potter’s surprised face before everything got dark. If Draco had been concentrating on the game, he would have seen the Snitch beside his head. He would at least have moved out of Potter’s way!
His broom was gone. Goyle said that it was broken. Draco was a little sad over this. That broom had been a gift from his father. Lucius was not going to give him more gifts any time soon. Well, that was not true, his father had given him a crayon drawing of a Dark Mark just last week – Draco had not been allowed to keep it, though.
The healers had decided to move his father to the Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungos. The Dark Lord had had Lucius in such a deep and powerfulImperius that his death had left Lucius with severe scarring on his brain. It was not likely he’d ever recover.
Draco sighed again, his bandages itching. He could not even write to his mother, and he’d be damned if he dictated another letter via Goyle. The last time he had done that, when he was attacked by that stupid Hippogriff, Goyle had somehow made it sound like Draco wanted the beast killed. With his luck, his mother would probably send hit-wizards after Potter. And then where would Draco be? Without his mother as well, that’s where!
Madame Pomfrey came over and looked him over with a couple of spells.
"You are free to go, Mr. Malfoy," she finally said. "You are not to put strain on your wrists. That means no complicated spells, no writing, no using a knife, no potions stirring and no fondling yourself."
Draco was too embarrassed by that last thing to do anything else but nod.
"The more careful you are, the faster you'll heal." The medi-witch narrowed her eyes in warning.
He left the ward sourly. He was not looking forward to asking Pansy to feed him. He could ask Theo, but the bastard would just turn it to a sexy game – and that was the last thing Draco needed. Goyle would probably eat all of Draco’s food himself.
Draco turned, he knew that voice.
"Potter?" he collected himself, stretched to his full length and collected his schooled features to a drawl. "Come to finish me off, have you?"
"I… was going to say sorry…"
"Well, guess what? I don’t need your pity!" He was going to wave Potter away, but was reminded by that he could not use his wrists.
He did the second best thing and shoved his shoulder into Potter as he tried to pass. Potter scowled and grabbed hold of him.
"I’m trying to apologize, you damn idiot!"
"And a fine job you are doing of it, too!" Draco winced. "Now if you excuse me I have to go to the Infirmary!"
"You just came from there," Potter looked at him as he lost his mind in the fall as well.
"Well, I have to go back now!" Draco had real trouble keeping the tears of pain from running down his face. "Let go of me, you fucking ogre!"
"Fuck…" Potter realised his hard grip around Draco’s right wrist. "I’m sorry!"
"Keep telling yourself that!"
He glared at Potter one last time before turning back through the doors he just exited.
"You did what?" Hermione shrieked.
"I broke his broken wrist…" Harry poked his potatoes around the plate before him. "It was an accident…"
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Harry was lucky; he could have been getting the tut-tut too. He was also sorry, he was. And he would try to apologize again. This time he would not let Draco rile him up. This time he… he dropped his fork. It fell to the stone floor with a clatter but he did not notice.
Across the hall, Malfoy was letting Parkinson feed him.
Malfoy sat like a mummy, wrists crossed over his chest. He did not look in the least happy as Parkinson cut up his food in small pieces and fed it to him. Parkinson looked like a mother with a small child; the only difference was that Draco was taller than her, even when sitting down. The bandages around his right wrist now covered the entire hand. Harry did not know if he should feel guilty over the injuries, be amused at Malfoy being fed like a baby, or just go over there and wrestle that utensil from Parkinson’s hand. The last thought was strangely appealing. He had not expected to feel jealous.
"Don’t worry." Seamus nudged Harry’s arm. "She won’t steal your boyfriend. I’d be more worried about Nott if I were you…"
It took Harry five seconds glaring at Nott, and Ron’s high pitched protests in his ears before Harry realised that he actually should defend himself against the boyfriend-comment. Then it was too late and the nearest Gryffindors was staring at him with eyes matching the size of house elves. Except for Seamus who was giving him a knowing smile.
"I’m not worried…" Harry spluttered. "I mean, we’re not… I… Shut up, Seamus!"
He went back to his food, noticed that he did not have a fork, and then just sat pouting for the rest of dinner. His house mates were giving him looks. Ron had found his protesting mouth filled with cake by Hermione and seemed to be in a sugar daze. Harry sighed. Had he just come out to his friends?
He could have handled that better.
"Did you hear?" whispered a sixth year Hufflepuff girl to her Slytherin boyfriend.
"What?" the boyfriend, Berthold Heads, looked up from his text book.
Draco thought it was quite brave of the boy to bring the girl into the Slytherin common room. Just a year ago the same boy had been severely beaten up for just holding her hand in public. Now they were just ignored. It showed how the times had changed in a short time. It also showed that Berthold was a good bloke for Draco to befriend in this new world.
"About Potter?" the girl giggled.
Draco’s ears perked up.
"What about Potter?" he asked before Berthold got a word in.
"About him being gay," blushed the girl, this was the first time another Slytherin spoke to her, let alone Draco Malfoy.
Draco blanched and fell back onto the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. Pansy and Theo began interrogating the girl; her name was Beth, apparently. She had heard about Potter from her brother in Ravenclaw, whose best friend’s sister shared a dorm with a girl, whose twin sister was in Gryffindor and girlfriend to Longbottom. A reliable source then.
"Good thing we did not know this before the war," mused Theo to Draco. "The Dark Lord would have had you stripped naked and laid out as bait in no time."
"Why me?" Draco was a little shocked over his friend’s statement. "Why not you?"
"You bottom." Theo shrugged as if this was a universal fact.
"I have never even had…!" Draco cut off his outraged voice.
Too late, the entire common room was looking at him. Well, fuck…
"I heard it from Padma," said Neville. "Her sister shares a room with a girl whose sister’s best friend’s sister is dating a Slytherin."
All eyes in the common room went to Harry.
"What do I care if Malfoy is a gay virgin?" harrumphed Harry sourly crossing his arms. "It’s was not like I was going to ask him to be my first… Oh fuck…"
He buried his head under the sofa cushions. Harry really wished there was a spell that could make the earth open up and swallow him. He could probably make a spell like that, but then he would have the entire castle fall down on his head. Not a bad idea…
"Are you sure?" he heard Ron’s muffled voice.
"Yes, Ron." Harry looked up from under his cushions. "I don’t want Draco Malfoy to be my first."
"I mean that you are a virgin?" Ron looked almost happy, what the…?
"I think I should have noticed…" He sat up, looking curiously at his best friend.
The room giggled.
"You don’t just mean with boys, but girls too?"
Ron looked over to Ginny sitting by the fire with her friends. She gave him a smirk and stuck out her tongue in a very little sister kind of way.
"Just eliminating suspects," mused Ron, his eyes darting to Dean who shifted nervously.
"Too bad we did not know this before the war," mused Hermione. "I bet you could have seduced Draco to come to our side. I bet he would have solved the… the soul-thing in no time."
"You think?" Harry tilted his head.
"He is very smart…"
"I don’t think I could seduce anyone, it seems so dishonest."
"Only if you don’t like the guy," a forth year girl piped up, to the rest of the room’s great amusement.
Harry glared at the girl, who blushed and looked away. When he turned back to his friends they were looking at him that way again. He had not denied that he liked Malfoy.
"Shut up!" he hid under the cushions again, Hermione’s hand patted his leg.
The gossip that Potter liked Draco had spread during breakfast. Potter had hidden behind an upside down copy of the Daily Prophet the entire time. Draco had narrowed his eyes and sat quietly, letting Pansy feed him. His arms were twitching and itching most horribly, reminding him just why he hated Potter so much.
"You should ask Potter to dance at the Halloween feast," said Pansy later.
They were sitting in the common room rolling up bandages that Theo was transfiguring from long pieces of sting. They had decided that Draco should go as a mummy to the feast and were now helping him with the costume.
"Are you completely mad, woman?" Draco was eying the fabric she was rolling as wondered how they were going to put that on him. "He is the reason I can’t wear my dragon catcher costume!"
"Yes, but I’m going to look hot in it," smiled Theo. "Do you want me to wear it while I’m wrapping your crotch?"
"You’re not coming near my crotch," murmured Draco sourly.
"You are right, save it for Potter." Theo measured out another piece of string. "I don’t want to tamper with Wonder Boy’s things."
Draco thought of strangling his friend, but decided to wait until he got better – it would be more satisfactory then. He looked over the design of the mummy that Pansy had drawn on a parchment, it look scary and hot. She was a good artist. Potter was going to eat his heart out. Where did that come from?
"Anyway…" Theo continued as he stretched the sting to gauze "…I head that Boot from Ravenclaw is going as a dragon – I would not want to spoil my chances to catch me a live one."
"Is he even gay?" Pansy curiously looked up from her roles.
"Who cares?" chipped Theo and winked at Draco. "But she is right, you should ask Potter to dance… At least it will show that you hold no grudges, from the war I mean."
"I hold no grudges from the war," Draco stamped his feet. "It is this I grudge him for!" he held up his wrapped hands. "I can’t even wank to him!"
"Err…" Pansy coughed.
"Because!" shouted Draco hysterically. "I can’t wank because of him."
Theo just laughed. Well fuck it…
Harry was sitting on his bed with the curtains drawn and privacy charms in place. He had escaped the others and their taunts for the moment. Ever since lunch another rumour had been spreading, saying that Malfoy liked him, too. Harry was now too scared even to apologise to the Slytherin.
What if it only were rumours? Padma’s sister’s roommate’s sister’s best friend’s sister’s boyfriend sounded like a reliable source, but how could he be sure?
He took up Draco’s broom from his pocket and enlarged it with a spell. It was still broken, but Harry had been able to stitch a few of the splinters together again. With a sigh he opened the book on brooms that he had borrowed from the Library. Of course it said nothing about the special spells that were the manufacturers’ trade secrets, but there some basics. Harry compared it to if a Muggle would want to build a car, he would come up with a go-cart.
Naturally, Harry had considered just buying Malfoy a new broom. But by the look of the shiny handle, the carefully combed straws and the silver engraving Do not let me down, Father, he could see that the broom was special.
It would be the best way to apologise.
Reading over the enchantments once more he took his wand and began to patch some more splinters together.
Draco thought he actually looked quite hot in his ‘Dead Pharaoh’-suit (mummy sounded so childish). Pansy and Greg had eventually wrapped him up; Theo had offered to help but had been banned from the room when they got down to the waist.
His arms were wrapped from fingers to elbows, like long gloves. His legs, lower body and right shoulder were also covered. The left shoulder and left chest and his head was free of gauze, but made up in a dusty colour. His eyes were painted black and his hair was ruffled.
"There," Pansy spelled herself clean and put on her huge witch hat. "You are a masterpiece. Potter won’t know what hit him!"
"I don’t care about Potter!" huffed Draco. "What are you, anyway?"
"A Muggle witch." She smiled and transfigured her pug nose to a tree inch long flesh hook with warts. "Oh my, I look just like my great- great- grandmother…"
Draco looked her over and noticed the resemblance to an old witch in a portrait he once saw at her parents’ house. He gave a short chuckle as Pansy crackled evilly to her mirror image.
"Come on, Pomperipossa," Draco tilted his head to the door. "Let’s get this party over with."
Pansy gathered her skirts and followed.
"Are we ready?" Theo waited for them in the common room, wearing Draco’s dragon tamer costume.
Greg was also there, dressed as a gorilla, a nice look for him.
They walked from the Dungeons to the Great Hall accompanied by some other Slytherins in fancy costumes. Draco’s wrists were still killing him, itching like mad under the skin. It probably gave him a good scary face, since he was complimented several times.
The Great Hall was decked up to the tens. Pumpkin lanterns, glowing skeletons, spider webs, floating candles, and food and candy everywhere. Snape was, amazingly enough, in costume; an 18th century clergyman by the looks of it, the high cravat was doing well to hide the bandages. He gave Draco a narrow look and then a glance over to a small crowd by the edge of the dance floor.
Draco followed the professor’s eye to a dark bushy head. Draco scowled; even Snape was hearing the rumours flying around school. He gave the man an indignant look. Snape shrugged, smirked and turned to the headmistress (dressed in a fairy costume).
Disapprovingly Draco shifted back to Potter, who now was uncovered by the crowd. He received a small shock as he noticed Potter wearing the light blue uniform of the Falmouth Falcons. The shock was not so much that Potter had chosen Draco’s favourite team, but that Potter looked drop dead gorgeous. But then again, Potter had always looked good in a Quidditch uniform.
Then he noticed the broom Potter was sporting.
Harry was tantalised by Malfoy’s bare shoulder. He was slowly giving in to the idea that he might be attracted to the Slytherin. The thought of sinking his teeth into that skin was so pleasant that he quickly realised that there might be something to it.
"Potter!" Malfoy’s fists were clenched hard and must have pained him since his face was just as clenched. "That is my broom!"
"Oh," Harry looked at the broom in his hand. "Yes, yes… it is…"
"Thief!" Malfoy spat, poking Harry’s chest.
"No! I fixed it!" he held the broom forward.
"I fixed it…" Harry bit his lip. "It was broken… from the fall… and I…"
"Fixed it?" Malfoy face was unreadable as he reached out for the broom but stopped himself, fingers gracing the wood.
"What is the matter?"
"Can’t carry it…" he looked at his wrapped wrists. "I can feel them healing, I don’t want to…"
Malfoy was cut off by Seamus as he ran passed them, giggling like a girl. He was wearing a red dragon costume and Theo Nott was on his trail. Harry raised an eyebrow as the scantly clad dragon tamer jogged by.
"That was supposed to be my costume," Malfoy informed Harry.
"You would look good in that," Harry blushed. "But I like your mummy costume, too."
"I’m a dead pharaoh," muttered Malfoy.
"Soo…" he cleared his throat, glancing over to Hermione who gave him thumbs up and Ron who looked resigned. "Do you want to dance?"
"Well, I’m offering to carry your broom for the rest of the night… It would only be kind to give me something in return…"
"You are holding my broom hostage for a dance?" Malfoy gave him a crooked smile that did nothing to ease Harry’s nerves.
"All dances actually," Harry could not help to blush. "It goes well with my costume."
"How very devious of you," he smirked. "And presumptuous…"
"I am sorry, you know… for…"
Harry hesitated again; ready to give to broom back if Malfoy refused. Then something wonderful happened. Malfoy placed his lower arms on each side of Harry’s neck, leaned forward and kissed him.
"I would love to dance with you, Harry" smiled Malfoy.
"Do you know what you are doing?" asked Draco as he lay back on Potter’s bed.
He was hard and his mouth was aching from many violent kisses. It was agonising not to use his hands for more than gentle strokes. He wanted to grab, hold and knead – just as Harry did with him.
"No idea…" Harry was busy unrolling and pulling the bandages off Draco’s legs. "But this is just like opening a Christmas present."
Draco grunted a laugh as his right leg was violently freed. Harry had taken of the Quidditch shirt the moment they scrambled inside the dorm; Draco was fascinated by the dark fuzz of hair over the bare chest. He laughed once again as Harry grabbed hold of his other leg, unwrapping it too.
Harry gave a rebellious shout as he pulled away the last piece of gauze exposing Draco’s straining pants. He hesitated, losing a little of that Gryffindor courage. Their eyes met. With a deep breath he took hold of the hem of the pants, pulling them down. Draco’s cock stood erect, leaking.
"We are really doing this…" whispered Harry, licking his lips.
"Yes." Draco pushed his hips upward, wanting, seeking friction. "Do you know how to…?"
"I think so…" He looked over to his bedside table. "We need lube."
Draco nodded, knowing this fact for himself. He watched as Harry summoned a vile of blue liquid from the table drawer. Trying to cool his nerves, he went for the buckles of the blue Quidditch trousers. Harry grunted and helped pull them down to his knees. More dark hair was exposed surrounding a hard cock, just a little bigger than his own. Draco just stared. That is going to be inside me
"Place a pillow beneath your hips."
"What?" Draco looked up to the green eyes.
"A pillow." Harry squeezed a gloop of the liquid into his hand. "It said in the book that it made it easier… "
"Reading books now, Potter?" smirked Draco and pulled a pillow down, wincing with the pain in his healing wrists. "Shit!"
"I’m sorry!" breathed Harry, his hand tantalisingly smearing lube over his cock. "I forgot… "
"Me too," Draco whispered, not taking his eyes away from the moving hand.
Harry took hold of the pillow with the other hand and pushed it under Draco’s raised hips. As he bent down to adjust the pillow his mouth was so close to Draco’s cock that he could feel his breath. In the next moment he also felt something warm grazing over the tip. He gasped.
"Just wanted to taste…" Harry looked up from between his legs.
"Tease," he growled. "What’s next in your book?"
"Spread your legs, up with your knees."
Harry’s face was actually turning red as he spoke. It was somehow cute, but not so encouraging when you were about to lose your virginity to your former enemy. The hesitant thoughts disappeared as Draco obeyed and a slick finger began to massage his hole.
Draco’s head fell back as a finger pressed inside of him. It hurt like hell, but it felt good, too. He wondered if he was some kind of masochist as he actually wanted more of that feeling. He had never used more than one finger in himself.
Another finger was pressed inside him; he could not help but whimper.
"Is something wrong?" Harry stopped his movement, his voice full of worry and lust. "I have never done this on anyone else…"
"It hurts, but go on… please, Harry…"
Draco was arching to meet the fingers as they grazed that place inside him that he never seemed to actually reach by himself. He gasped again, forcing his hands not to move. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming. He almost cried as Harry’s fingers left him.
"Are you ready?"
"Do it, Harry, do it now!"
He could feel the touch of a greasy hand as Harry guided himself to Draco’s hole. As he slowly began to ease in, Draco panicked and clamped down. Harry whimpered and thrust forward quite roughly.
Draco yelped at the sudden pain, and his hand flew up to Harry’s shoulders to hold him back. The ache in his wrists was nothing to this. Harry stilled. Draco closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, breathing though the pain.
"Are you…?" Harry’s voice was hesitant.
"Just…" he took another breath. "…take it slowly."
He could feel Harry slowly pushing deeper. Looking up at the face above him, Draco could see how the other man gritted his teeth. Their eyes met, encouraging each other with small nods and humming sounds. Draco raised his knees higher, giving more space between them.
The moment he was seated to the hilt on Harry, Draco was given a moment to adjust to the new feeling. He clenched and gave an approving nod. It still hurt, but the look on Harry’s face it was worth it. Moments later, Harry was pumping rhythmically in and out of him.
Draco’s arms fell back to the bed; Harry took hold of them. Draco was going to protest, but the pain was subsiding for every thrust. Again, Harry hit that place, and Draco shouted in pleasure.
"Omygodomygodomygodoh…" rambled out of Harry’s mouth as he stiffened and Draco felt himself fill with a pleasant warmth. "Draco…"
"Don’t stop!" gasped Draco grasping Harry’s neck, feeling the stiffness inside him go down and slip out of him.
"I’m… shit, shit…"
Draco was ready to kill Potter, he was so close. And now the git was leaving! Draco was just about to scream a very nasty hex as he felt a warm heat engulfing his cock. Then there was suction and all was forgotten. Lips, tongue and the light scrape of teeth worked him hard.
He buckled as he came, releasing himself in that wonderful heat.
Harry coughed and choked as he dragged himself up to Draco’s face. He had cum all over his chin and left cheek, but he was smiling like a loon.
"I’m sorry," he laughed.
"You don’t look sorry," noted Draco with a smirk and gave the smeared lips an experimental kiss. "I taste good."
"I know." Harry licked his lips. "How are your wrists?"
"I think you broke them again…"