Gift for: dark0feenix
Length: ~13,000 words
Summary: A change in careers leads Harry in a direction he never expected. Featuring an interfering Headmistress, long forgotten plots, and too small living quarters.
Notes: dark0feenix requested: happy/hopeful ending is a must, others are optional: humour, first time, clumsiness, awkwardness, misunderstandings, kissing, frotting, voyeurism, masturbation, UST when it becomes RST, boys being boys, men being men, Harry and Draco as teachers at Hogwarts, parseltongue, some plot, some banter, determined!Harry, post-HBP.
I tried to include as many of your wants as I could, and I hope I did justice to your request and that you enjoy this! Happy Holidays! Many thanks to my betas E and C for their invaluable suggestions and advice.
Malfoy was impossible to live with, Harry decided.
Malfoy was standing in their shared living room, with only a thin robe around him. Harry glared at him, trying not to notice that the robe was see-through, and that there were thin droplets of water sprinkling Malfoy's chest right where it pulled open.
"What?" Malfoy asked, walking over to a shelf and pulling down a book.
Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy's chest. Not that he was staring at it or anything. "What are you doing?"
Malfoy moved to an armchair and sat. He opened the book, but Harry could swear it was upside down. He couldn’t quite get in the right angle in to find out, and he wasn't about to try. That would be too awkward.
"Reading," Malfoy said. "What does it look like?"
"It looks like you need to get dressed," Harry said, his voice a low growl. "I do live here too, you know."
"So you keep reminding me." Malfoy sighed. "Look, Potter, I shouldn't have to change the way I spend my time simply because you decided to make my life more difficult. If I want to read in the nude, then I will."
"Don't tell me you do this on a regular basis."
Malfoy shrugged. "So what if I do? And besides, I put a robe on. I'm not completely ignoring your comfort."
"Oh?" said Harry. "Only mostly ignoring it then." He slammed the door to his bedroom, and leaned his head against the wall. This was not going well.
Harry wasn't sure what he had been thinking of, agreeing to move in with Malfoy. There was no way the two of them would ever be able to move past their disagreements and get along.
He was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands when a soft knock sounded moments later. He opened the door to find Malfoy on the other side, dressed in trousers and a shirt. The clothing clung to Malfoy's still wet body, and Harry had to repress the gurgling noise that tried to escape from his throat.
"Yes?" he said, weakly.
Malfoy looked at him expectantly, and Harry stepped back to let him in.
"I wasn't trying to bother you, Potter." Malfoy said, to Harry's surprise. "I apologize if it came across that way. I was actually trying to accommodate you, though I'm sure you don't see it that way."
The usual sarcastic sneer underlay his words, but somehow, Harry wanted to believe him.
"I'm sorry too," said Harry. "This is just difficult."
They sat side by side on the bed, and when Malfoy shifted, he accidentally nudged his shoulder. If it had been anyone else, it would have been a friendly nudge, Harry thought, with a sad smile. It wasn't likely that the two of them would ever be friends.
"I didn't ask for any of this," Malfoy said. "I just want to figure out what this potion is, make the antidote, find the leader, and get on with my life."
"That's quite a list," Harry said. "So let's go figure out this potion."
"I doubt you can help me, Potter. But thanks for the offer." Malfoy actually smiled at him, and Harry tried hard not to gape. Malfoy's smile was surprisingly endearing.
"If you change your mind," Harry said, letting it hang in the air for a moment.
They sat in silence for several moments, and Harry was surprised at how it felt comfortable. He liked silence, and there was an odd companionable feeling about sharing it with Malfoy.
Then Malfoy ruined it. "Potter, please tell me you don't actually live like this."
Harry glanced around. His shirts were hanging over the back of his chair, and his trousers were on the floor. His desk was covered in papers, and his bed was unmade, the sheets hanging off.
"What?" He glared at Malfoy, but there wasn't much heat to it. "I live perfectly fine."
"You live in a mess. It's disgusting. How do you ever find anything?"
Harry shrugged. "It works for me," he said, as if that explained it all.
Malfoy looked unimpressed. "No wonder you're such a mess, Potter. Just being in here makes me feel disorganized." Malfoy shuddered, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"I doubt that my mess is going to rub off on you, Malfoy. Your organizational skills certainly haven't done much for me."
"I can't risk it," Malfoy decided. "It might be contagious."
They moved back out to the sitting room, and Harry brought a stack of papers with him to grade. They worked for quite awhile, and during one of his breaks to make tea, Harry realized it was the first time in the two months since he had moved in with Malfoy that they had managed to make it longer than an hour in the same room without arguing.
He laughed out loud at the thought, drawing Malfoy's attention. "Nothing, it's nothing," he said to the unasked question, unsure of why it was so funny to him.
"Oh, do share, Potter."
Harry shrugged. "Just… us getting along…"
"That's humorous to you?" Malfoy's voice was light, but Harry recognized the hint of anger.
"No," said Harry. "It's not – it just struck me that of all the things I imagined doing when I was in school, living with you would have made me laugh and check myself into Mungos. But really, it's not so bad."
Malfoy smiled slightly. "Not so bad? Potter, you tried to curse me just yesterday."
"You used all the hot water. And you stole my clothes."
"Mmm," Malfoy agreed. "That was funny. You really shouldn't be so uptight about clothing. It's optional."
Harry sputtered. "No, it isn't, Malfoy. At least not in my world."
He handed Malfoy a cup of tea, and relaxed into an armchair, letting the silence calm him.
Their evenings had quickly settled into a pattern after that, and Harry was almost ready to admit to himself that he found Malfoy's company enjoyable, if not downright entertaining. It was February now, and they still hadn't made any progress on the potion. They had, however, only seriously argued with each other a handful of times. Harry liked to refer to the rest of their episodes as disagreements, though he wasn't sure that other people would quite understand the sentiment.
He marked a quick P on the top of a paper, after detailing in length why attempting to stupefy a dementor would have absolutely no effect on the creature. It was as if the students thought that the reading material was optional. He had to bite his lip at that; he was rather sure he had considered the textbooks optional and had thought of Hermione's notes as the required material.
Malfoy muttered something to his left, and Harry's eyebrows drew together in concentration.
Harry turned and looked at Malfoy in bemusement, still unable to make sense of Malfoy's mutterings. "Did you just curse Snape?"
Malfoy glared at him. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing." Harry shrugged. "I thought you two were close."
Something in Malfoy's expression softened. "We were." Then his gaze hardened again. "But that doesn't excuse the ridiculous code he wrote this in."
Harry started. "Malfoy," he said, speaking slowly and trying to wrap his head around this. "Please tell me you're not deciphering a potion recipe that Snape left behind in his notes so that Death Eaters could faithfully continue his work?"
"Why is that so hard to believe? You despise Snape; shouldn't this validate everything you've ever thought about him?"
Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. "It would, if Snape hadn't been on our side. He would never have left sensitive information for the Death Eaters to find. Even I know Snape was smarter than that."
"Potter, don't be stupid. Snape murdered the Headmaster. He served the Dark Lord."
Malfoy was now speaking to him as though he were the two-year-old, but Harry was filled with too much disbelief to care.
"No, actually, he didn't. Dumbledore was already dying, and Snape is one of the reasons we won the war. He destroyed Nagini for me, and in the process, killed himself."
"I always wondered what had happened," Malfoy said quietly. "I never knew how he died –" Malfoy looked torn for a second, and Harry felt terrible that no one had ever filled him in.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, wanting to comfort Draco but not knowing how. "I thought you knew. Nagini was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and Snape knew I couldn't get close enough to her to kill her before reaching Voldemort. He did it for me, but he didn't have the reflexes of Dumbledore or a bit of Voldemort's powers to save him."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Draco asked, his shoulders tense, and Harry noticed a slight tremble in his hands where he held the parchment.
"I tried." Harry's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Nobody believed me about Snape just like nobody believed me about Sirius. Eventually, I just stopped trying. What was the point?"
Draco didn't reply, and Harry pulled him over to a chair, and poured him a cup of tea. He couldn't believe that Draco and Snape had never realized they had been on the same side all along.
Draco drank his tea and then seemed to compose himself. "I better get back to it… I feel like I'm getting close."
"Let me see the parchment," Harry said. "I might be able to help; I had to send Snape plenty of coded messages over the years."
Draco made a noise that sounded a bit like a scoff, but still handed over the notes. He seemed to be having trouble believing that Snape could have been anything other than a follower of the Dark Lord, as much as he clearly wanted to believe what Harry said.
"It seems to be in three types of codes. I've managed to figure out two of them, but this third one – it makes no sense to me. It's practically gibberish."
Harry looked at it for a moment. "No, it's not. It's Order code."
He reached for a spare bit of parchment and began scribbling quickly on it. Muttering under his breath, he wrote out the order of ingredients and instructions. His lips quirked as he began thinking about –
"Why are you smiling, Potter? If you're right, we've just figured out how to make a Potion that could kill hundreds of people."
"Or," said Harry, "we've just written out the ingredients to a perfectly simple babbling beverage."
"What? Let me see that." Draco grabbed the parchment from Harry's hands, and put it beneath his much more neatly written work. He stared for several seconds, glanced at Harry about five times, and finally sat down at the chair by his workbench. "Are you sure this is what it said?"
"Completely," said Harry. "What does it mean?"
"It's three separate potions. A calming draught, a shrinking solution, and…" Draco trailed off for a moment and looked at Harry in surprise. "A babbling beverage. I didn't think you knew anything about potions, Potter."
"I know some things," Harry defended himself. He had to admit that the only reason he knew anything was still owed to the copy of the Half-Blood Prince's book.
"Sure you do, Potter," Draco replied. "All together, these potions would simply cause a huge explosion. I'm going to have to do some tests but…"
"But it looks like I was right?" interrupted Harry. "I told you, Draco. Snape was on our side. I'm a little surprised you never knew that, considering you were both working with us."
"I expect we were both just too good at what we did," Draco said, sounding smug.
Harry laughed. "That must have been it."
Draco went silent, and his voice was strangely quiet when he spoke again. "What do we do now?"
"We wait," said Harry. "We know they're going to come after you, but now we know they don't really have anything harmful. I can't even begin to imagine what sort of things they might be bottling up… though that sort of carelessness is fatal by itself." He trailed off in thought, thinking quickly. "We should draw them into a trap, if we can. What were you doing the last time they caught up with you?"
"I was in Yorkshire," Draco said. "Having lunch with Blaise."
"Zabini?" Harry asked. "Could he have –"
Draco interrupted him, and it was the first time in ages that Harry heard real anger in his voice. "No chance, Potter. Blaise is the one who convinced me that staying neutral was smarter than serving Voldemort."
"But you didn't stay neutral."
"Well, by that point, I was already sworn to the Dark Lord. Turning neutral wasn't much of a choice; turning spy was."
"What about someone he told?" Harry asked, standing up and gathering the papers. He noticed Draco staring at him. "What? We need to take this to the Headmistress. Oh," he added, walking to the door, "and call him Voldemort; he's been dead for years."
Draco arranged to have lunch with Zabini on the seventh of February, a Sunday afternoon. Harry stayed nearby and refused to let Draco out of his sight. Something tugged in his gut as he watched the way Draco interacted with Zabini, and at their constant soft touches and conversations that seemed to occur without speaking.
By the time lunch was over, Harry was unable to believe that Zabini could fake that level of affection for Draco. This meant that Draco had been right and this was likely a fool's errand at trying to draw the leader out. Harry thought the rogue Death Eaters might have simply waited for Draco to leave the castle and followed him the last time, but that would have required such extreme surveillance that Harry doubted it.
He refused to let his guard down in any case. It was still possible, however unlikely, that Zabini had mentioned to a friend who he was meeting…
Draco stood up, and Zabini smiled and Disapparated. Harry started towards him, finally deciding that nothing was to come of this. Just as he neared Draco, a hand fell on Draco's shoulder and Harry watched in horror as a cloaked man pushed Draco out of the café. The two of them had arranged earlier if an attack occurred to let it play out initially. That way they could draw the Death Eater into a false sense of security, and then Harry could attack.
Harry followed at a distance, and he could only hope Draco knew he was behind him. The cloaked man shoved Draco into a small shack and Harry followed close at his heels, glad once more at the ease with which he could become invisible. Harry wished that the mask didn't cover the person's face so completely, so that he would have some idea of who he would end up facing.
Draco was shoved to the floor, and ropes immediately bound him so he couldn't move. Harry repressed the urge to jump forward, needing to make sure they hadn't been wrong when they figured out the potion didn't truly exist.
Draco, apparently, couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Figure out the potion yet?" he sneered, looking contemptuously up at his attacker.
The man didn't reply, but he removed a potion vial from his robes. Harry saw Draco's eyes flicker with fear, and Harry had a sickening moment of doubt that he hadn't decoded the message right. What if Snape – he shook himself sharply. He had doubted Snape too many times already; the man was anything but a fool. There was no chance those potions were anything other than what Malfoy had determined: nonsense, the thing Snape hated most, right after Voldemort.
The man lifted the vial up and started towards Draco, and Draco opened his mouth once more. "Are you such a coward that you won't even show your face?"
The man pulled out a wand from his bulky cloak, and Harry stopped caring about what they were waiting for; they could question him with Veritaserum later.
Stupefy, he thought, glad that he had finally learned his nonverbal spells as the man fell over and landed on top of Draco.
"Sorry," said Harry. "Why is he alone?" He quickly removed the ropes that were binding Draco.
Draco pushed the body off of him and stood up, brushing off his robes. "I have no idea. Take him back to the castle?"
Harry nodded, and Draco disappeared. He grabbed the still body, willing away the memories of the unmoving bodies that haunted his nightmares and Apparated them both away.
Draco was waiting for him at the gates, but most of the walk to Hogwarts was in total silence.
"It wasn't Blaise," Draco said as the castle came into sight.
"I know," Harry murmured, feeling an odd compulsion to soothe Draco. "We'll find out who it was."
"I didn't expect you to believe me."
Draco had stopped and was looking at Harry in a very strange way that made Harry's stomach twist. "I saw you two at lunch. It's clear that he's… that he's a devoted friend, in any case."
He started walking quickly, and it was a moment before Draco caught up. It wasn't until they reached the castle's entrance and Harry started to step inside that Draco spoke again.
"He's just a friend, you know."
Harry's step faltered, but he nodded and they walked quickly to McGonagall's office, knowing that Kingsley would be there awaiting their arrival in case anything had happened at lunch.
Once inside the office, where Kingsley was indeed waiting, they pulled the mask off the man and Harry was fairly certain he heard the sound of their jaws dropping. "Parkinson?"
He looked at Draco; their man was a woman in a very bulky cloak, and nothing was adding up.
"Pansy was never a Death Eater," Draco said.
"I know." Harry had heard plenty of rumors about Pansy Parkinson, and all of them had her hiding out in France during the war. It was part of the reason that Harry had thought Draco was hiding; he had assumed the two of them had disappeared together.
Wand at the ready, Kingsley murmured, "Ennervate."
Pansy's brown eyes blinked several times before she sat upright, looking terrified. She spotted Draco in the corner, and Harry's hand on his shoulder, and an ugly scowl took over her face.
"What are you doing here, Pansy?" Draco asked, and Harry's hand tightened on his shoulder at the pain that came across in his voice.
"I came to see you," she said, her head held high, but her voice was shaking.
"You kidnapped me. And tried to force a potion down my throat. I'm not sure that counts as coming to see me, Pansy."
"I had to," Pansy said, and now Harry thought she sounded desperate. "You wouldn't have seen me otherwise."
"Of course I would have." Draco looked surprised by this accusation. "You're my friend… or at least, I thought you were."
Harry was sure his head was whipping back and forth between the two, but he noticed the pain flash through Parkinson's eyes.
"I don't want to be your… friend." A naked, pleading look was in her eyes.
Suddenly, Harry understood.
"What's in the potion vial?" he asked, handing it over to Draco.
Draco uncapped it and sniffed. "It smells like y-" a flush stole over his cheeks, and Harry never knew what he had been going to say. "Amortentia."
Harry shut his eyes. "Were there ever any Death Eaters involved in this, or was this just you?"
She looked fearfully at Draco, but he said nothing, and she seemed to decide her best course of action was to be honest. "Just me."
"You're lying," Harry said.
"I'm not. There weren't any Death Eaters involved… but Theodore Nott helped me and told me what to say to get Draco's attention."
"Nott was a Death Eater," Draco said coldly. "You know that, Pansy."
"He swore that he wasn't," she exclaimed. "It was all a misunderstanding."
"This is ridiculous," Draco interrupted her. "I can't believe this has all been a huge game."
Harry had to agree, and he was left trying to figure out exactly what had just happened as Draco walked out of the office.
"So there was no plot? No potion?" he asked Kingsley.
"There was when Voldemort was alive," Kingsley replied. "I would assume the rest was simply a ploy to get Draco willing to meet with Pansy so she could drug him."
"It doesn't make any sense though," Harry said, thinking of how easily Merope had fed Tom Riddle the love potion. "She could have just had him over for lunch and slipped it into his tea."
"I believe," said Minerva softly, "that we won't understand the rest until we find Theodore Nott. I suspect there might be more truth to Pansy's words than she's aware of. However, now that we know who is behind it and that there is no such potion, it shouldn't be too difficult to bring him in."
Draco was staring at the fire when Harry returned to their rooms. He didn't say anything. Harry went to sit beside him, and wished there was some way he could comfort him.
Ten minutes later, Malfoy said, "You don't have to stay here any more."
"What?" Harry asked, thrown by this comment.
"Pansy's in custody; it won't be long before they find Nott, who was clearly trying to finish what his father couldn't. I'm plenty safe now. We can go back to our own lives." He laughed, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Not now, Potter." He looked up, and Harry almost flinched at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. "I thought she was my friend."
"I know," Harry said. "I'm sorry." It felt inadequate, but he could think of nothing else to say.
"You should pack," Draco said. "No use drawing out the inevitable."
Harry wanted to shout that he didn't want to leave, but he had no explanation to give Draco about why he should stay. Not one that Draco would believe in any case. It was only a matter of moments before all his belongings slid back into his trunk. He had never taken much in the first place, always living under the belief that it wouldn't be long before he returned to his own rooms. Now, he wished he had been wrong.
He levitated his trunk and walked back into the main room. "I guess I should go." He hesitated, and Draco stood, but it was only to open the door.
They stood in silence, staring at each other. Harry's mouth opened slightly, and he stood still, unable to look away from Draco's gray eyes.
"Malfoy," Harry murmured. "What are we doing?"
Malfoy's lips were nearly on top of his, and Harry couldn't bring himself to pull back. His eyes started to shut, and he leaned forward when –
"I have the supplies. They'll never know what hit them."
Harry's eyes snapped open. He tore away from Draco, and stepped into the hallway. "Who will never know what hit them, Mister Garrett?" he asked, his mind whirling through a series of pranks he didn't even want to consider.
He heard the door shut behind him, and his stomach twisted painfully. After handing out detention, he stared at a closed door for several minutes before finally making his way back to his own rooms.
Harry didn't sleep well that night, or the next.
May brought warm days but still sleepless nights for Harry. It also brought the capture of Theodore Nott, and some semblance of friendship between him and Draco.
Harry hadn't been able to get the night where they almost kissed out of his mind, but Draco didn't seem to remember that it had even happened. Harry had approached him, ready to fight for whatever the thing between them was, but seeing Draco so weary and tired had halted him mid-speech. Lying in bed, he thought of how he had almost approached Draco, ready to do anything for what they might have.
"About last night," he began. "I just want you to know that I really think we could," and then he had noticed the sadness in Draco's eyes, and had stopped. "Draco," he said instead. "Are you all right?"
Draco smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Fine. Thanks for your concern, Potter, but I have to go. Don't worry about last night. Nothing happened, remember?"
Then Draco was out of sight, and Harry could never bring himself to broach the topic again. Draco was in too low of a place; Pansy's betrayal had hit him hard. In the aftermath, the reveal that Nott had been controlling her to a certain degree did little to ease Draco's anguish.
Harry had chosen to be there for him in the only way he could: as a friend. He only wished that their friendship wasn't so stiff and forced. Harry would go to place a hand on Draco's shoulder and immediately pull it back.
It didn't help that every time he shut his eyes, he saw Draco's lips nearly on top of his. He flipped over on his bed, getting tangled in the sheets. He imagined Draco beside him, and wished that he had the courage to go and just kiss him. Then he might finally be able to move on with his life.
His cock hardened at the thought, and his hand reached underneath his trousers to let it free. It was becoming a common occurrence, unable to get the image of a naked and wet Draco out of his head. He could see himself kissing Draco, and he wrapped his hand around his cock, starting to stroke it rapidly as though it might turn this dream into reality.
With June and the end of term just around the corner, Harry suddenly sat up and fastened his trousers back. He refused to hold in what he had been suppressing for so many months any longer.
He ran more than walked down the corridor, pleased for the first time that his rooms were in the Dungeons, just across the way from Draco.
Harry knocked sharply on Draco's door. He waited impatiently, shifting from one foot to the other, until the door swung inwards. Draco looked distinctly disheveled, his hair was even sticking up a bit, and wrinkles covered his robes as though they had been thrown on quickly.
"Potter? It's the middle of the night – what are you doing here?"
Harry shoved past him into the sitting room. "Malfoy," he said at once, then shook his head. "Draco – look," and then he abandoned all attempts at talking. Really, it would be simpler if he just showed Draco what he wanted.
He stalked forward and pressed Draco against the wall, lifting his hand to rub his thumb across Draco's jaw. He bent his head forward and captured Draco's lips with his. Draco didn't move for a moment, and Harry ran his tongue along Draco's lower lip, trying to pull a response from him. He pressed harder, almost losing himself in the motion, and finally Draco was kissing him back just as hard and desperately as Harry.
Draco didn't say anything, but he tugged Harry by the belt hoops on his trousers and pulled him towards the bedroom. "Where are we?" Harry started to say, but Draco silenced him by nipping gently on his lip. "Oh."
Harry pulled at Draco's robe, yanking it off his shoulders as they stumbled, his mouth dropping open as he realized that was all Draco had on. Draco had him backed up against the bed now, and Harry pulled his jumper over his head and then slipped around Draco so he could push him onto the bed. Draco landed awkwardly, and the bed moved slightly making Harry let out a nervous laugh.
He crawled slowly on top of Draco and was pleased to note that Draco seemed to be reflecting some of the same nervous anticipation that Harry knew had to be shining back in his own eyes.
Taking his time, he kissed Draco gently, easing his tongue into his mouth and letting a soft moan escape from his throat. The tension had been building between them for so long now that he could barely believe it had finally become real.
He trailed soft kisses down Draco's chest, sliding his hands up Draco's thighs, his tongue sweeping across Draco's nipple and his teeth grazing it ever so slightly. His cock twitched as he watched Draco harden, and he couldn't resist leaning down and licking along the underside, taking the tip in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.
Draco let out such a noise that it sent shivers through Harry, and he couldn't keep his hands from trembling as he placed them on Draco's thighs, moving his legs slowly apart.
He took Draco's cock slowly in his mouth, working at the top and opening up so he could swallow him deeper. He supported his hands on the bed, his head beginning to bob, and he gasped as Draco's fingers tangled in his hair.
The noises coming out of Draco's mouth made Harry want nothing more than to fuck him, but it was so soon, and he didn't know what Draco wanted. He continued sucking harder, bobbing his head as Draco moaned out his name.
Draco's hips arched, and Harry held them down with his hands and hollowed out his cheeks, sucking all of Draco into his mouth, his tongue running along the skin of his cock.
He whispered something around Draco's cock, knowing he wouldn't be able to understand but that the air would brush against it, and Draco's shiver made Harry want to smile.
Then Draco was coming in Harry's mouth, and Harry sucked him dry, swallowing every last drop, and not caring that it tasted salty because this was Draco, and he couldn't care less.
Moving towards Draco again, a bit nervously, Harry leaned forward and kissed him hard. His own cock was twitching in anticipation, and he glanced down into Draco's eyes for some sign.
Draco nodded, and Harry wet his hands and slipped a finger inside of Draco, stretching him out and kissing Draco hard and desperately as he did so.
"I want to fuck you," he whispered, the words sending a thrill through him at the notion that he was going to do exactly that.
His cock ready at Draco's entrance, and he waited for one last sign of confirmation, and Draco's hips arching up so Harry would start to move in was plenty of answer. He pushed in slowly, a little uncertain, and Draco let out a small gasp of pain.
Harry almost stopped, but Draco said, "Fuck me, Harry. Now." And that was all Harry could do. He pushed hard and once he was firmly inside and Draco started to relax again, he started moving quickly, thrusting fast and hard, knowing he wouldn't be able to last long.
His head was spinning, and he was glad he wasn't standing because he was sure his knees would have buckled from the pleasure thrumming through him. He kept thrusting deeper into Draco, determined to hit the spot that would make Draco scream out, and just as he did, he was rewarded by the sight of Draco's cock hardening once more.
Harry reached his arm around to touch Draco's tender prick, and Draco let out a high noise that made Harry smile into his shoulder. He kept pressing in, and Draco pressed upward into him so that Harry felt as though his cock couldn't be any deeper inside of Draco, and he didn't want this ever to end.
The edges started to disappear from his vision, and he knew he didn't have any choice. He leaned into Draco's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on it as he came hard, trembling and shaking inside of Draco.
He waited several moments for his breath to calm down and kissed Draco once more. "Wow," he murmured, rolling off Draco to the other side of the bed.
"Wow," Draco repeated, and they both laughed somewhat nervously.
"What now?" Harry asked, always unable to keep his mouth shut.
Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry and pulled him close. "Now, we sleep."
"I know my contract is up," Harry said, sipping his tea from where he sat across the desk from Headmistress McGonagall.
McGonagall sighed. "I was afraid you had come to talk with me about that."
"The spell you implemented has clearly worked, and look," he glanced down at himself, "no harm came to me in either of my years here." He smiled, saddened to be talking about this. "Well, I know that you would be much happier finding someone more suitable to the position than me now that the curse is broken." He knew the curse was indeed broken; he had felt no urge to run away screaming, and the idea of staying wasn't exactly abhorrent to him.
He was startled to hear McGonagall laugh. "Harry, there isn't anyone else more suited to the job than you. You're the best Defense Professor that we've had in years."
"I don't think that's saying much, Minerva," Harry said, with a smile.
McGonagall smiled back at him. "Is there any way I can convince you to stay?"
This time Harry laughed. "To be honest, Headmistress, I came up here to try and convince you to let me stay."
"You want to stay?" McGonagall looked completely unsurprised, and Harry had to shake his head. Dumbledore truly had passed along some of his more frustrating traits to her.
"You know that I do. Hogwarts is my home. It always has been, and I know that it will be for at least several more years."
"I was hoping you would say that." McGonagall produced several pieces of parchment and handed them to Harry. "My optimism may have gotten the best of me. I drew up papers for a contract that will allow you to teach for an unlimited amount of time, until you choose to retire."
Harry smiled and picked up a quill from her desk. He quickly scrawled his name across the parchment and stood up. "If there's nothing else," he said, "there's somewhere I need to be."
Draco was waiting for him in their rooms. "You weren't at dinner."
"I took it with the Headmistress," Harry said, wrapping his arms around Draco. "We had to discuss my contract."
"It's up, isn't it? Where are you going to go?"
Harry tilted Draco's head towards him and kissed him.
"Go? There's nowhere to go, Draco. I'm already home."