Written For: monster
Written By: lotrwariorgodss
Pairings: Harry/Draco, OMC/OMC/OMC, (heavily implied Remus/Sirius)
Kinks Used/Warnings: wanking, voyeurism, threesome (anal/oral/interracial), fight!smut, frottage, some gay-bashing, language
Word Count: 12,700
Disclaimer: All sexual beings in this story are over the age of consent (one is described as a 'boy' but he is an of-age teenager). Also, these boys were never and will never be mine, and the way in which I use them is in no way related to JKR. I'm just making presents out of their sexual escapades.
Summary: An exhibit to honor fallen war-heroes turns into more for Harry and Draco when they uncover some hidden photographs and are forced to face their pasts and each other.
"Blaise, get the fuck over here."
"Whoa, Draco, you haven't ordered me around like that since we were in fifth year and I decked you for it– what's got your knickers in a twist?"
"Not what – Who."
Blaise looked at him curiously for a few moments before bursting out in hysterical laughter and disappearing from the fireplace. A second later, he appeared in Draco's living room and sat on the couch to watch him pace. "This is pathetic, Draco; I thought you were over all this shite with him."
Draco stopped in his tracks and gaped at the man on his sofa. "How did you know it was Potter? I didn't even say anything!"
"Draco, you've been making that face since we were eleven years old – it's your 'I'm wishing many torturous deaths on Harry Potter' face."
"I never called him that when we were at school," Draco mumbled.
"Harry – I never called him Harry when we were younger."
Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. "Getting friendly with the Golden Boy, Draco?"
"What? No! Why the fuck would you say something like that?"
"You said you never 'called' him Harry, that implies that now you do call him Harry."
"Well, no, I don't…usually…"
The blond sighed in agitation and squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to block out reality. "Only for the past few days."
"Oh shut the fuck up, Blaise, this is important."
"Oh gods, Draco, you're not…you don't fancy yourself in love with him, do you?"
"WHAT?! Fuck no! He's…he's Potter! And he's a bloke for Merlin's sake!"
"Right. I thought you were also past the whole gender thing."
"How'd you figure that? I've never liked boys."
"You let me suck you off no less than fifteen times in our seventh year alone."
"So? I was under a lot of stress, and a blow job's a blow job." Blaise looked unconvinced. Draco let out a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Look, whatever. You know I don't care that you're a pouf, Blaise, but that's not the point. The point is I need you to take me out tonight."
"No, Draco. I'm not going to see you thrown in Azkaban for a night of clubbing."
"Potter gave me the night off." Draco thrust a piece of parchment at Blaise and resumed pacing.
Blaise took the note and started to read what appeared to be a contract with Potter. "What do you mean, 'off'? Off your house arrest?"
"Yes, and the bastard put a lust spell on me, probably so I'd show up at his door tonight aching for him. I need to go out and find someone to shag before I pass out or explode or whatever happens when you don't obey a lust spell."
"You get violently sick, then pass out; I thought lust spells only worked with the caster."
"As long as I find some skinny, black-haired, green-eyed, well-toned, small-chested bint it should be fine."
"I don't go to straight clubs, Draco; you're going to have to settle for mixed. And I refuse to help you search for women all night – I reserve the right to ditch you if I find a tight little arse to chase."
"Alright, let me change and I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
Twenty minutes after they sat down at the bar, Blaise had found his chase-worthy piece of arse and had left Draco to fend for himself. So far, the blond was not having a good night off. There were raven-haired birds flitting about by the dozens, but in each Draco found something lacking. The first had hair half-way down her back, the next girl's eyes were too blue, the one after was too chubby, the next's tits were far too big, and on and on it went. Too feminine, too short, too old, too made up, too lesbian, too high of cheekbones, too slutty, too drunk.
After Draco had been propositioned by a sixth half-dressed man glistening with glitter and sweat (and Merlin knew what else), he decided to move somewhere new to search for his Harry look-alike…Potter look-alike. He pressed through the mass of writhing, sticky bodies, completely lost in his own thoughts instead of the pounding music. All of the girls he'd considered shagging that night had done nothing for him; the only one who'd peaked his interest at all had been walking away from him, her pert little arse doing a brilliant job of filling out a pair of skin-tight jeans. Immediately after she'd walked away, he thought of every time he and Harry had gone to Lupin's house and he'd clung to the man's denim-clad hips for all he was worth, or when he'd watched Harry climb the stairs, eyes fixed a little lower than normal. A spark of electricity ran from him gut to his groin at that thought and he groaned, knowing only the most convincing double was going to satisfy the spell Potter had placed on him. The bastard.
When his groan was echoed twice over from the other side of the room, he looked up and gasped upon seeing where his wandering had taken him. Draco had found his Harry look-alike, and he was only ten feet away, hands and knees digging into the stone floor, his head of black, messy hair hanging down between his shoulders. Behind him, also on their knees, were two men – a lithe, tan blond, and a dark-skinned muscular man with their tongues down each other's throats, all four hands busy with perverted tasks. Two were stroking fully hard cocks that did not belong to them, and the others had two fingers each buried to the knuckle in the dark-haired boy's arse and were slowly thrusting in and out. Draco could do nothing but gape in astonishment as he watched them prepare the boy for what looked to be a hard fucking.
The three men were somewhat enclosed in a circular area with booths all around that were filled with other couples or singles who were staring avidly at the threesome taking place – some were simply snogging, but most had hands down theirs or someone else's trousers, hands working furiously. Draco's eyes shifted from the spectators back to the spectacle in the circle. Harry's look-alike appeared to be quite pleased with the position he was in, and he began to thrust himself back onto the four probing fingers, moaning feverishly. The dark man whispered something to the blond he was stroking, and after a nod from the other man, he pulled away, his fingers slipping out of the boy's hole easily with a wet noise. Something in Draco's gut flipped, and he thought he was going to be sick until he realized he had a hand plastered to the front of his trousers and it was caressing a rapidly growing bulge. Once he realized he had mistaken raging arousal for disgust, he groaned loudly and ohgod this spell was going to kill him.
Draco watched the thick muscles ripple under the black man's skin as he crawled over to the head of the dark-haired boy and tilted his chin up for a kiss. The boy latched on like a starving man, moaning and gasping like a little whore (and perhaps he was one – in Draco's opinion, he would make a pretty little rent-boy). The boy gave a particularly loud cry when the blond shoved nearly all the fingers of his right hand into his arse, then quickly pulled out again, taking that lube-covered hand and fisting his own prick. Draco's trousers had been undone for a while now, and he stroked himself slowly as he watched the larger man lie on his back and slide underneath the boy so that both were ready to take each other's cocks in their mouths. The blond took hold of the dark-haired boy's hips and pushed forward so slowly Draco was surprised the wanton teenager didn't thrust back as he had on the fingers. As the blond pressed his way into the tight arse he was being presented with, the other two took each other's pricks in their mouths and swallowed as much as they could, which was quite a lot considering their awkward position. Draco's cock gave an alarming twitch as the boy's muffled moan echoed loudly throughout the room, clearly demonstrating that he was more than fine with being filled at both ends by thick and enviable specimens of male anatomy.
He tugged harder on his aching prick, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry's sinfully vocal double receiving the pounding of a lifetime. All around him, Draco could hear the sighs and shouts of orgasm, musky sweat and sex filling the air and invading his nostrils, making him dizzy and weak in the knees. Right when he slipped a hand to his chest to tease his nipples, the dark-haired boy released the cock he was sucking with a sob, pressing his hips down reflexively as he shot his release down the dark man's throat. Heartbeats later, the dark man moaned around the softening flesh in his mouth and came all over the boy's lowered face and his own stomach. As the blond watched his two lovers climax, his thrusts became harder and deeper, his fingers clutching the boy's hips with an unnaturally strong grip. Draco's eyes darted back and forth between the three of them, noting with a strangled groan how the black man's hands had come up to stroke the boy's thighs affectionately and the blond's eyelids were fluttering as his hips snapped forward and back, driving himself in and out of the kneeling boy with brutal force.
When he looked down and noticed the passionate emerald gaze of the dark-haired boy on none other than Draco himself, he gasped; the boy smirked, gave him a wink and stuck out his little pink tongue to lick a long stripe through the come on the dark belly below him. Draco lost it. He cried out, spilling hot spunk over his hand and onto the floor, bracing himself against a wall with his free hand. As if a long repressed sea of emotions was finally being released, a series of images flooded Draco's mind – Harry on his knees, Harry's lips stretched around his cock, Harry's pretty, innocent face twisted up in pleasure, Harry's fingers clenched in his blond hair, Harry's knees pressed to his chest, Harry flushed and panting, Harry screaming his name, Harry…
Fuck. Draco sank to his knees, barely registering the other blond's moan of climax, every thought running through his brain telling him just how much he was well and truly fucked. He wasn't supposed to have one of the best orgasms of his life getting off to an all male threesome. He wasn't supposed to internally scream the name of his very male ex-rival in the throes of said orgasm. He wasn't supposed to want boys anymore, dammit! What was he supposed to do now? What a disappointment he would be…what a freak he would be…how dirty he would be…
God, he had to get out, out of this place with its sex and its darkness and its pretty little moaning green-eyed whores and its – godhelphim – temptation. He shook his head – no, this couldn't be his fault, his father had made sure of that, but that meant it was someone else's fault, someone else was responsible for making him think these horrible things and coming all over the floor like a desperate teenager and wanting nothing more than to do it over and over again. Draco snarled and pushed himself up from the floor. Potter had done something to him. It couldn't have been a lust spell like he thought, because he had just gotten off by himself, but it was something powerful and he was damned if he was going to let it ruin years of conditioning. This was all Potter's fault, and now the bastard was going to pay – Draco would see to it personally – and with an angry crack he Disapparated.
Harry was pacing in his flat, still not quite believing his day had gone as it had. It was supposed to have been easy – it was a Tuesday for goodness sake, the most boring day of the week! – but somehow his life had just become a great deal more complicated. God, he had kissed Draco…he had really kissed Draco and then proceeded to feel him up, and yes, he was a complete moron. Well, at least he'd solved his sexuality crisis problem – he was most definitely attracted to men, wouldn't Remus and Sirius be proud? Harry groaned and sulked into the kitchen to begin pacing there. His head these days was filled with nothing but terrible ideas. His decision to go to Remus's house? Bad idea. His decision to dig up Remus's old pictures? Another bad idea. His dare to Draco? Really bad idea. And his incentive to Draco? Merlin, that had been such a bad idea.
If Draco was caught outside doing something illegal, Harry would get into a world of trouble; he just hoped the git had enough good sense to stay out of mischief for just one night. Maybe he should make it a week's worth of free nights. He felt he owed it to the blond after what had transpired that afternoon, which had probably ruined his chances of ever becoming friends with the blond, who would probably never speak to him again after this whole community service ordeal was over. Harry groaned and banged his forehead against the wall until he started to see little spots behind his eyes. He was such an idiot. And of course, he was going to have to apologize.
But what could he say?
Draco, I'm sorry for molesting you. It was wrong and it will never happen…
Draco, I wasn't thinking clearly this afternoon and I never meant to…
Draco, what the fuck was I thinking?! I don't blame you if you never…
Draco, I'm sorry I questioned…
Draco, I loved kissing you, but I shouldn't have…
Draco, KISS ME AGAIN BEFORE I GO MENTAL!...
Draco, I am so sorry. I'll give you whatever you…
Draco, I'm not sorry for kissing you, but I am sorry that you didn't want…
Draco, I'm a fucking idiot, please forgive…
Draco, I know you probably never –
Harry was interrupted from practicing his apologies by a loud banging on his door. God, if Ron had gotten plastered with his brothers and Hermione had kicked him out again, he was going to be incredibly unforgiving. Harry didn't relish the idea of looking after a vomiting, melancholy friend all night, especially with the Draco Disaster hanging over his head, but he opened the door with a sigh. A friendly retort died on his lips when he opened the door to find not a stumbling redhead, but a fuming blond.
"Dr – Draco?" The penetrating glare he was being given sent adrenalin shooting through his system like lightning, and all his various apologies vanished from his mind like tendrils of smoke. "Umm…come in?"
Draco sidestepped him and walked through the threshold without speaking a word, leaving Harry at a complete loss as to what was going on. He shut the door with a click and turned to face his unexpected guest, but he saw only a clenched fist rapidly coming toward his face; it glanced off his cheekbone, leaving him more stunned than hurt. "What the –"
"You are an utter bastard!"
Draco advanced on him with a feral look in his eye. Harry had expected him to be upset about this afternoon, but he never expected something like this.
"What the fuck did you do to me, Potter?!"
Harry dodged another blow and backed up towards the door. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Draco?!" Now with his back to the unforgiving wood of his front door, he was effectively trapped between it and the furious man in front of him. Brilliant.
"The fucking spell or charm or whatever the fuck you did to me – take it off, NOW!"
"Draco, I can't –" the blond's fist caught him square in the nose and he let out a yelp of pain, while Draco continued to pound his fists into Harry's torso. "Draco, stop! I didn't do any –"
"I was fixed, dammit! I was cured, and then you came along and fucked it all up!"
"Draco! Please –"
Harry saw the instant Draco snapped. His eyes grew wide, his pupils dilated, a nearly imperceptible shiver ran through him, and he shoved his face into Harry's so hard it ricocheted off the wooden door and made Harry moan with pain into the violent kiss. He could taste his own blood seeping into his mouth, sliding over Draco's tongue and onto his own. He was aching for the blond to kiss him harder, longer, deeper, but the nerves in his face were screaming in pain and he forced himself to pry away from Draco's mouth with a whimper. Draco didn't stop, just moved from his mouth to his neck, sucking and biting large possessive lovebites there, and Harry didn't care what had spurred this change of heart, he just didn't ever want him to stop.
In a sudden move, Draco fisted his hands in the front of Harry's t-shirt and yanked it up frantically, as though Harry was an apparition that would vanish, given enough time. Harry lifted his arms and wriggled out of the shirt, once again finding Draco's lips on his when he tossed it to the side and started on the blond's long string of buttons. Within seconds, they were pressed skin to skin, tongues sliding together sloppily, finally gaining a blissful friction from their yet trouser-clad erections pressing together between the sharp dig of their hip bones into each other's bellies. Gasping, Draco ripped his mouth from Harry's and pressed into him again; in that moment, with a hard cock rubbing firmly against his own, Draco could not have been more happy to admit that, oh yes, he was very fond of his own sex.
Harry cried out as Draco bit into his neck and ran his fingernails down his chest; he felt completely lost in the blond's arms, breaths coming in sobs as the pain in his face transferred to a more pleasant inferno in his gut, and he knew that whatever Draco asked of him tonight, he would do it without question or hesitation. Fuck, this is what passion felt like – a screaming, consuming, suffocating wave of thick flames, unrelenting, rising like a flood with every passing second. He wanted all of it, anything Draco could give him, everything Draco could give him; he wanted it all and he wanted it now.
A stream of raw magic shot through his body, and when the electricity had dissipated, both his and Draco's clothing had vanished, leaving nothing between them but air and skin. His lover didn't seem fazed by their lack of clothing, and instead attacked Harry's body with renewed fervor, finally pressing the bare flesh of their lower halves together with a lustful moan. God, Harry hadn't done spontaneous magic since Remus had died, but he didn't marvel in it for too long, instead focusing on the way his prick was rubbing against Draco's with an intensity that bordered on violence.
On the next thrust, Draco slammed Harry's hips into the door and ran his hands down Harry's thighs, digging his fingers in the tender flesh behind his knees and yanking them up. Harry gasped, wincing slightly as Draco's hip bones pressed hard into his own, trying to hold him up as he brought Harry's legs up to straddle his waist. Harry helped him, wrapping his legs around and crossing his ankles behind the blond's back. Draco's face was buried in his chest, kissing and sucking on every patch of flesh he could reach with his lips; with every stroke of his tongue over Harry's nipples the dark-haired man cried out into Draco's hair trying to keep his balance as he kept himself upright and thrust his hips against the other body. The blond's rock-hard length was sliding back and forth between Harry's cheeks with every drive forward, and Harry knew with the pace Draco was keeping tonight that it would only be a matter of time before he was forcing himself into Harry's entrance, a place that had never been penetrated by more than a curious finger or two. He dove through the haze in his mind and concentrated on harnessing his magic enough to cast a sloppy wandless spell that every Hogwarts male knew by his fifth year. Draco moaned when he felt the slick slide of conjured lubricant dripping from Harry's arse onto his prick, and he couldn't hold back anymore.
"Need…fuck, Harry…need to fuck you…"
Harry took a deep breath, wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, and pressed his lips to the sweat-bathed forehead in front of him. "Do it, Draco. Please –"
His plea was cut off by a cry of distress as something hard and unforgiving drove its way through his clenching muscles and into the fucksotight warmth of his arse. Draco must have noticed how badly Harry was shaking in his arms because he paused at the end of that first thrust to let him calm down and accommodate this new hurt. He looked up and saw the tears marring the sparkle in Harry's eyes, catching them with his lips as they rolled, unbidden, down the young man's cheeks. After a minute of gasping and squirming, Harry pressed his lips to Draco's in a silent plea for him to move, and Draco consented.
They started slowly and cautiously, Draco trying to make up for forcing into Harry without any preparation or warning, Harry trying desperately to convince his heart to stop beating so fast for fear that he might pass out before he had a chance to really enjoy this confrontation. But neither man's patience lasted for long, and it was barely a minute before Draco's control began to wane and his thrusts were harder, drove deeper, and he realized he was wrapped around Harry's torso with all the desperation of a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood. He lifted his head from Harry's chest and tilted it up to look at his face. His eyes were shut tight, blood smeared across his cheeks, head titled back to bare his neck, his full bottom lip trapped firmly between his teeth. God, even the little whore from the club would have blushed at the look Harry gave him when he opened his eyes – they held a mended spark and a smirk all their own, as if daring Draco to do his absolute worst and being sure he would absolutely love it. Draco let out a guttural moan and held him tighter, thrusting into his body now with a recklessness that his own body had never known.
When Harry tried to thrust back against him, the fragile balance they'd held so far was shattered, and Draco fell backwards, taking Harry crashing down with him. Their rhythm wasn't even broken. Now in the position of power, the dark-haired man began to rock back and forth in Draco's lap, pushing himself up and back down over and over. It was good, but not nearly good enough. Draco obeyed a breathless request – 'God…Fuck me, please…' – and flipped them, never once dislodging himself from Harry's body, and started pounding in earnest, reveling in the scream his lover gave as he was truly fucked. One of Harry's hands hand snuck down the length of his body and started stroking his prick, rushing without inhibition towards the climax that had been building in his gut since their afternoon kiss. Feeling that hand work feverishly between them nearly pushed Draco over the edge, but he stubbornly willed himself to hold out for a few more thrusts, seeing spots color his vision as he fought desperately to keep control. A final husky cry signaled the onset of Harry's orgasm, and as the previously relaxed muscles of his arse clenched in sympathy, Draco let out a twin shout and let his hips jerk forward to spill his release into the passage that awaited it. He collapsed onto his gasping lover, unable to hold himself upright and feeling exceptionally dizzy.
Though Harry was glad to see Draco wasn't going to try and pass this off as an impulsive mistake, he could only take gasping with someone on top of him for a minute or two before he pushed at Draco's shoulder and whispered his name.
"Draco…Draco, get up, I can't breathe."
Nothing, no grunts of irritation, no whining, no movement. Oh Merlin. Harry giggled and rolled his eyes at no one; Draco had passed out on him. This was turning out to be quite the story. Convinced that Draco's state wasn't going to leave him in any place to be offended, Harry pushed him off and moved into a sitting position, wincing only slightly. He looked at Draco's limp body lying on his hardwood floor and chuckled again, imagining the look of utter indignation that would be on that sweet face once Harry told him he'd passed out. Ever the nurturer, he gathered Draco in his arms and walked gingerly to his bedroom. He laid his lover down at the edge while he folded back the blankets, eventually tucking Draco into the previously unoccupied spot and praying he wouldn't flip when he woke up in Harry's bed.
Fortunately, Harry didn't have to wait very long to find out. He had just finished cleaning himself and was slipping under the covers when a moan slipped from Draco's throat. Harry settled in next to him and stroked his cheek until his eyelids fluttered open.
"I carried you to bed 'cause you passed out," Harry blurted, unable to stop himself from acting like a five-year old with a secret.
For a moment, Draco looked like he was going to hit Harry again, but he couldn't stay mad at the man when he looked like such an adorable child, grinning from ear to ear, so he chuckled and shifted in the bed. "Passed out, indeed. I just needed to rest, Potter – I wore myself out."
"Yeah, sure, Draco."
"I'm serious!" the blond whined, now awake enough to let his eyes feast on the flesh he'd been pining for half the night, gasping in shock to see it marred by bruises, nail lines, and bite marks, the largest of which was just below the man's neck above his collarbone. Harry had obviously put some salve on the bruise from Draco's blow to his face – the swelling was nearly gone, and the dark mark had faded remarkably. Regardless, he still looked like he'd been in one hell of a fight. "Fuck, you look like you've been attacked by centaurs!"
Harry rolled his eyes and touched one of his bruises gently. "Yes well, blame yourself for that. I thought you were here to kill me when you walked through that door."
Draco looked away, clearly ashamed and guilty for what he'd done to Harry. When he spoke, it was in a defeated whisper. "I'm sorry I was so rough with you…I was upset."
Harry dismissed him with a shrug. "Don't worry about it. You've done worse to me in training duels, and it wasn't that unpleasant for long." He winked and took hold of Draco's chin, bringing their eyes back to the same level and leaning forward slightly to give him a kiss.
Draco almost couldn't believe where he was – only seven hours ago he was relating all the disgusting habits of homosexuals to Harry as though they were symptoms of a disease, and now he had not only participated in several of those activities, but he had added a violent twist of kink to it and had enjoyed it all immensely. He sighed. "Well, I guess this answers your question better than that kiss did…it was a good kiss, by the way; I cheated you."
"I know. I mean, now I know…I was so sure you were going to hate me after this afternoon." He nuzzled Draco's ear. "I'm glad to see I was wrong."
The blond mumbled his agreement and ran his fingers through the messy hair that had been plaguing his thoughts all night, from Harry's rent-boy look alike to Harry himself. They sat in contented silence for a minute or two, but like everything with them, it didn't last for long.
"When you came in you said you'd been cured and I fucked it up. I think I can guess what you were 'cured' of, but…"
Draco looked a bit tentative at the unspoken question, but he began to speak nonetheless. "My father, when I was ten. We were having the normal Christmas gala at the manor and I was walking back from my room with a friend I had known since I was very small. We were almost back to the main ballroom when he grabbed my hand and pointed up towards the ceiling where a piece of mistletoe was hanging. He squeezed my hand and said that meant we had to kiss; I remember blushing and thinking that sounded like the best idea in the world…until we actually did it."
"It was a bad kiss?"
"Oh no, it was good, I suppose, as good as kisses given by ten-year olds can be. But my father caught us." Draco closed his eyes and a slight tremor ran through his body, but Harry soothed him with a kiss to the forehead. The blond smiled up at him and found the strength to continue his tale. "He beat me so badly that night, I thought I was going to die. Canes, whips, even a metal-tipped cat-o-nine tails. My mother was so afraid of my father and what he'd done that she wouldn't look at me for weeks. After that, things were never the same between the three of us. My father gave me long lectures about how it was filthy and wrong to touch other boys and that if he ever caught me doing it again I'd not only be punished but disowned. That speech I gave you at Lupin's house? Straight from him. He constantly made little side comments when he saw something in the paper about gay rights activists or hate crimes, and he always made sure I knew how important it was to marry well and produce as many Malfoy heirs as was proper for the time. My mother began to pity me, I think. She knew what I really wanted and she could see how badly he was trying to force it out of me, see how he was using the fact that I worshipped him to his advantage. She never denied me anything again, which is one of the reasons I became so spoiled."
Harry kissed his forehead again. "What happened to your friend?"
"Don't know – I never saw him again."
"I'm sorry, Draco."
The blond shook his head. "Don't be. It happened a long time ago, and my father's dead now, so I don't need his approval. This is what I've wanted; I've just been too…" He sighed. "In any case, I'm not going back now – Blaise will lose it when I tell him. He'll never let me sleep with another woman again."
"Oh, the tragedy," Harry deadpanned, earning him a playful punch in the shoulder.
"Shut up, Potter."
As if on cue, a thick blanket of awkwardness settled over them and made its presence known through a little yawn on Draco's part and a cough on Harry's. Oh, this was ridiculous – he was a Malfoy, he could slaughter awkward moments with a snap of his fingers. He regarded the other man with a serious expression, taking special care to stage another yawn before he spoke.
"Would it be too presumptuous if I asked to stay the night? I'm exhausted."
Harry chuckled and tightened his grip on the man in his arms. "Well, I did give you the whole night off, after all; you might as well spend the whole night away from home. Sending you back there would almost be like going back on my word, wouldn't it?" Draco grinned and Harry couldn't help but kiss him. "I'd love you to stay, Draco."
The blond stiffened at these words, but Harry just drew him closer and put out the lights. When they were settled, Draco finally spoke. "You know I don't love you, Potter."
Harry sighed and pulled the covers up higher on their bodies. "I know, Draco; I don't love you either, but could you at least call me Harry?"
Draco relaxed and finally let himself be cuddled, melting into Harry's arms like chocolate, his eyes closing reluctantly. "Goodnight, Harry."
Harry woke early to the harsh morning sun peeking through his curtains, knowing he should have definitely been up by now. He was starting to groan against the daylight when a gentle weight shifted next to him, and he remembered just why he had slept in so late and why it didn't matter because his only engagement couldn't yell at him for being late as he was laying right next to him. Draco looked gorgeous with the morning sun streaming over his hair, his clean white skin nearly glowing against the midnight blue background of the sheets.
All of a sudden, Harry had an idea. He gingerly extricated himself from Draco's embrace and walked quietly to his closet. When he emerged a few seconds later, he was carrying his Muggle Polaroid camera – a gift from Hermione. He knelt at his side of the bed and focused the camera on his new lover's pale, sweet face, and with a click it was captured forever. He tucked a strand of wayward hair behind Draco's ear and waited for the photo to develop; he'd take one later to keep in his temporary office at the Ministry, but this one was just for him. Walking back into the closet, he plucked a shoebox out of the disaster that was his floor and emptied it, placing the photo of Draco sleeping at the bottom. He smiled. Harry stood on his tiptoes and placed the box on the highest shelf, making a mental note to ask for a Wizarding camera for his birthday, and find some spare time later to add some…modifications to the floorboards in his bedroom.