Title: Are You There, God? It's Me, Draco - Part 2/3
"Oh, my God," Harry whined as he limped over to the bed in his pyjamas and crawled underneath the blankets, automatically curling up into a foetal-positioned lump. "Kids are idiots. And I'm never covering one of Hooch's flying lessons again."
"Poor Potty, what did the mean Hufflepuffs say to you?" Draco drawled, not looking up from the blue-covered Book of Mormon in his hands. He turned a page, one eyebrow raising. "Did Janie and Jennifer get their periods while you still haven't?"
Snickering despite his exhaustion, Harry tugged his pillow down to hug. "Shut up."
"Now, precious, you know that every girl develops in her own time. What if during the next Hogsmeade Weekend we go and buy you a training bra and some chocolates, would that cheer you up?"
Draco gave him a sidelong glance and a smirk. "Hm." He turned a page, and went back to reading it. "How's your headache?"
"Better. Thanks for the Pepper-Up."
"You owe me three Sickles," Draco said kindly.
"Stingy bastard. ...What're you reading?" Harry asked, trying not to call attention to his sudden blush as he scooted up the bed, close enough to peer over Malfoy's shoulder. "Ooh, it has pictures. God, look at the rack on that lady," he gawped, boggling at the bold-coloured illustrations.
"Mm, quite an emphasis on bulging muscles and loincloths as well," Draco said drily, shifting on the bed, dropping his shoulder so Harry could see more easily. "Oh, you have to see this one," he said, flipping to the appropriate page, giggling as Harry let out a low whistle. "Who knew that Native American Jews who wrote in 'reformed Egyptian' and wore Roman centurion outfits could be so fit, eh?"
"I like the big shiny sword pointing between his legs. "
"Mhm," Harry smirked, and yawned again, his jaw cracking. "Mmph, sorry."
"As you should be," Draco murmured, placing a bookmark on the chapter he was reading before he closed the book altogether. "Americans," he sighed, in a very 'what-can-you-do?' way. "And Muggleborns say our history is hard to believe."
"Well, any religion's history is going to be a bit weird, isn't it?" Harry reasoned, burrowing down into the covers as Draco fluffed his own pillow fussily. "The world getting flooded, oil lasting for eight days, loaves and fishes feeding thousands."
"The last two we could do ourselves," Draco pointed out.
"I know, but Muggles don't know that." Harry frowned and closed his eyes, a hand sliding automatically into Draco's hair as Malfoy slung an arm across his chest. "How many steps done?"
"Five. Found the one in the Vedas this morning," Draco sighed. "Also I found your Arrows shirt, it's in the wardrobe with your others."
"Thanks. Still want me to show your NEWTs students the Protean charm tomorrow?"
"Mm, if you would," Malfoy yawned, tracing the faded outline of the Cannons logo on Harry's t-shirt. "I think the scriptural comic book there was another joke from Percy."
"No, really?" Harry said drily.
"Mm. I'm still looking for the one in the Old Testament. It's in either Psalms or Isaiah, they have the strongest magical signature."
"Aha. ...Who wrote Psalms? Aren't they just songs?"
"King David wrote about half," Draco murmured sleepily, turning his face into Harry's chest. Harry could feel him break into a smile, a second later. "When he wasn't committing adultery and having his mistresses' husbands killed. And mourning his boyfriend."
Had they been open, Harry would have rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's gay," he said, chest hitching on another yawn.
"No I don't," Draco protested, eyelids fluttering a little as his words began to slur with sleep. "David was, though. At least a little. ...Jonathan." He gestured with a hand, looping it drunkenly til Harry grabbed it and tucked it in his own. "Soldier boy who got himself killed, 'thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women'? Please. Gaaaaaaay."
"Mhm. Goodnight, Malfoy." He kissed the top of the blonde head resting on his shoulder, spluttering a little as strands of hair got in his mouth.
Harry groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, overcome.
"Nervous, Potter?" Draco breathed into his ear, darting his tongue out to lick over the flushed-pink shell. "You should be."
"Oh, god, stop teasing - it's bad enough already."
"Mhmmm, and it's only going to get worse."
Harry opened his eyes again, at that. "Fuck," he hissed painfully, a moment later.
Draco bit his lip, and nodded.
"Not going to be long now," Draco muttered after a few minutes.
"No - nononono just - oh, shit almost - "
"Yes, yesssss - "
Harry tensed and shouted, at the same time Draco did. A moment later, Draco slumped back, smirking hugely at Harry's groan.
"Shut up," Harry said preemptively, squeezing farther back into his seat so that Professors Sprout and Longbottom could shuffle past, out of the staff Quidditch box. "It was a lucky play."
"Of course," Draco said, still smirking as he stood to let the professors past him. "Entirely due to luck, that final 300 point spread. Tell me, Potter, did the Gryffindor team even have Chasers on the field after the first hour, or did they all just give up after the first twenty goals we scored?"
"All right." Draco subsided as he sat back down and whistled cheerfully. It took Harry a few minutes before he recognised the tune of "Weasley Is Our King."
"MALFOY," he shouted. "Could you not?"
"Actually, I think I'm being very good about not gloating too much over how my house just trounced yours," Draco replied evenly. They were the only two members of staff left in the box, and indeed in the stands, and a brisk October wind was whipping their old house scarves around their shoulders. After a moment, Draco stretched and rested an arm across the back of Harry's seat.
Harry shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then sighed and settled back against him, tucking his head halfway under Malfoy's chin, tracing a fingertip in whorls over his chest. "...We weren't...really serious about that bet beforehand, were we?"
Draco snorted. "Nice try, Potter. We were serious, and you will be wearing Slytherin colours for the next two weeks, so stop embarrassing yourself."
Harry scowled at that (and at having been seen through so easily), and gave Draco's nipple a vicious twist, through his clothes.
"Should we be having sex?" Harry mused aloud, circling yet another mistake in little Danny Cleaver's werewolf essay (he was having Lupin and Bill Weasley come for a guest lecture on the new Werewolf Rights Act after the next full moon). From the other side of the desk, Draco paused in his reading to give him a curious look.
"Well, I am in the middle of a sentence, but I suppose could fit you in sometime this afternoon if it's urgent."
Harry sniggered at the unintentional pun and glanced up. "I didn't mean now, git."
"Ah. ...It wouldn't be very heterosexual of us," Draco pointed out helpfully.
"I know, but - well, my chances of pulling a girl after all the Prophet articles are practically nonexistent, and you're gay as a spoon anyway, so I just thought - "
"I'm not gay, Potter," Draco said crossly. "And I don't see why the sexuality of spoons is so suspect."
"Oh, come off it," Harry scoffed, setting his grading quill down. "Everyone's known you were gay since third year."
"That's ridiculous, I took Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball and dated her through sixth year."
"Yeah, and now she's shacked up with Madam Rosmerta and they've adopted three war orphans, Malfoy, so that story's really not helping your cause."
Draco scowled. "I don't see where her decisions have anything to do with me."
"Look, it's not like it's a problem. Given that your tongue's been in my mouth about as much as it's been in yours for the past three weeks, I doubt I'm really in a position to judge you on your preferences."
"I'm not gay," Draco spat. "It's boarding school mentality, that's all. We're in a remote boarding school in Scotland, these things are bound to happen."
"...Draco, we're professors."
"You finally noticed? Congratulations."
"And Hogwarts isn't boys-only." Harry suddenly had a thought. "D'you suppose that's why your mum didn't want you to go to Durmstrang?"
"Oh my god, just shut up," Draco demanded, slamming his book shut.
"...Well." Harry subsided for a moment, and went back to reading over the essay. "When you're ready to tell me, I'll be here to listen," he said, quoting Hermione from a conversation they'd had after the first ridiculous Prophet article broke. Draco scowled at him, blushing faintly.
"Anyway, if I were gay, what would that make you?" he asked a moment later, eyes slitted suspiciously. "You've certainly had next to no trouble adjusting to being my pretend boyfriend."
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry shrugged, making another mark on the parchment. "I'm not gay, it's for the sake of the mission."
"Well, you might want to give your penis that memo, it's certainly not pretending to dig into my hip every morning."
Despite his best efforts, Harry could feel the heat start to seep into his cheeks. "Natural reaction to stimulus."
"Oh, of course," Draco hissed. "I'm sure lots of heterosexual men get turned on by cuddling the other man in their bed."
"Shut up," Harry snapped back, flush spreading to his neck and ears. "I'm not gay. ...I'm Harry Potter."
"'The Next Queen of England'."
Glowering, Harry picked up his armful of parchment essays and stomped over to the bed on the other side of the room, spreading them out on the duvet and making sure his back was to Draco before he started to read his student's essay again. Draco frowned and opened his book, removing the bookmark.
They may have only been pretending to work, but neither of them was going to call attention to it.
Six steps done, and Draco had no idea where the last one could be, and Percy'd run out of possible books as well. So, he was effectively stuck at Hogwarts, a castle teeming with brats - a quarter of which were Gryffindors (and another quarter Hufflepuffs, which were almost as bad) - and house elves and Potter. Sighing a martyrish sigh, Draco paced the perimeter of the Owlery and went back to sulking near a paneless window, watching the first snowfall of winter dust the grounds below. Above him, there was the peaceful rustle of owls fluttering onto the rafters and fluffing their down as they settled in for the night. The night sky above them was starless, given the clouds, but the moonlight shone through regardless, giving Hogwarts an opaque, soft-focus quality as it reflected off the snow.
Despite himself, Draco was enjoying the effect. Hogwarts appeared now as it had in his dreams - cosy, idealised, with the window lights reflected on the lake and the turret-flags fluttering gently. The school's reality, of course, had been much different for him (Draco Malfoy had gone to his Sorting thinking that Slytherin House was well-liked and well-respected), but with the physical fact of students and professors and ghosts removed, with the lights shining cheerful and steady in the windows, he could almost see why so many people loved -
Draco paused and tilted his head, the skin on his arms breaking into goosebumps as he realised that the ever-present rustle of feathers overhead had stopped. Breath going shallow, he slowly began to raise his chin, eyes tilted upwards, and had just managed to make out a terrifyingly large, black outline on the uppermost rafter before the whole Owlery seemed to explode - post owls shot out of every opening as fast as they could fly, and Draco ducked and clapped his hands ineffectively over his ears as the shrill, horrible, portentous scream of a banshee echoed in the room like a belfry.
Harry'd never actually been bored enough to manage to send out his Christmas cards before New Years' Eve, so he wasn't sure whether to be proud of himself or really depressed with the state of his social life as he trudged up the stairs towards the Owlery to fetch Hedwig. Christmas holiday wasn't for another one and a half weeks and he'd be spending the whole of it at Hogwarts, alternating between sniping at his pretend boyfriend and trying not to touch him (he was trying not to analyse that impulse too much). Humming an off-key version of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," Harry sifted through the stack of envelopes. He skimmed for spelling errors as he crossed the footbridge and trotted up the highest enclosed staircase of the actual castle, opening the door that led to the Owlery tower.
He was nearly blown back down the staircase by the force of the banshee scream that ripped past the open door. Automatically putting his hands on his ears (one hand still had the envelopes in it), Harry squinted up through the sift of falling snow and fleeing owls to try to catch a glimpse of the banshee - he'd heard there was a pack of ferals that had invaded Hogsmeade til they were driven into the Forbidden Forest, but he hadn't considered that they might try to come on the school grounds. He actually stepped out onto the open landing, ducking as a little barn owl almost flew into him, and though he might have seen an abnormally large figure flapping around the tower, before he noticed something on the snow-blown staircase. His mouth went dry.
"Malfoy?" Harry called, rushing forward, taking the steps two at a time til a patch of owl shit and ice nearly threw him over the rickety stair railing. He grabbed onto it (half of the Christmas cards were sent fluttering down onto parts of Hogwarts' roof) and pulled himself back into standing, holding on tight as he picked his way up to where Draco was slumped, cradling his head between his hands. Another banshee wail ripped through the air above them, and Harry glanced up quickly - feral banshees had been known to help along the death omen that came with their scream, if the prey looked easy. "Malfoy, get up, there's a banshee," Harry ordered, prodding at Draco's shoulder with a finger.
Draco shuddered, the long-fingered hand on the railing curling tighter. "Just shut up," he mumbled, voice thick, and Harry was a hair's breadth away from giving in to his instincts and shouting before he noticed long, angry claw marks on the back of Malfoy's neck and robes. The banshee screamed again, and while Harry winced and had to put his hands over his ears again, he noticed that Draco seemed to shake with it, the muscles in his back and arms visibly tensing in pain.
The banshee was circling above them now, and if that scream could set Harry's ears to ringing he didn't want to think about what it might be doing to the inside of Malfoy's head. "Come on, Draco," he murmured, ignoring Malfoy's flinch as he reached and halfway succeeded in pulling the other man into his arms. Draco gasped at the jostling and attendant pain, but tried to move along with him, slitting his eyes open and twining his fingers around the railing for added support as Harry manoeuvred back down the iced-over stairs and onto the open landing. The the banshee went into a dive.
"STUPEFY," Harry shouted, sending a bolt of light from his wand at one of its "wings," knocking it into a brief tailspin. Draco's whimper at the loudness of the shout was muffled in Harry's chest, and Harry muttered an apology as he dragged them towards the door, unable to get traction on the doorknob for a few precious seconds before he removed his glove.
"Coming back," Draco gasped, and Harry turned around just in time to see the banshee hurtling towards them, talons unsheathed.
"INCENDIO," he shrieked, going cold and terrified as he got a good look at the size of the claws. The fireball that erupted from his wand barely refrained from catching Draco's trousers on fire, but it did scare the banshee off long enough for Harry to wrench the door open and tug Draco inside. He kicked the heavy door shut, just barely closing it before the recovered banshee streaked towards it, colliding with the metal with a colossal thud. Harry gasped for air, eyes wild as he scanned the enclosed staircase for possible entryways, and didn't seem to notice how he was cuddling Draco into his chest until Malfoy's shoulders began to jerk. "...Shit," he breathed, looking down at him. "Malfoy?" He turned Draco over gently, trying to see his face, worried that he was going into shock.
He really wasn't prepared to see a pained smile on Malfoy's face - Draco was laughing at how the banshee had ricocheted off the door. "You complete arsehole," he hissed, beyond relieved. "Oh my god, I can't believe you. You had me bloody worried for a second, you git - "
Draco winced and gestured with a hand, sealing Harry's mouth shut with a wandless spell that seemed to pain him almost as much as Harry's talking had. Harry's squawk was mercifully muffled, and it took him a minute to figure out how to reverse the spell without saying anything, but by the time he'd managed it, he'd also managed to figure out that the ringing bells in Draco's head would settle more easily if he kept quiet. Outside, they could both hear the banshee scrabbling against the stone walls, trying to get in - it let loose a few more wails that made Draco shudder violently before Harry remembered his Silencio and managed to dampen the sounds coming from outside the small room. At the sudden quiet, Draco exhaled and seemed to relax in his arms, eyes closing again.
"Feeling b - " Harry's well-meaning question was cut off abruptly as Draco reached a hand up and pinched his lips together, one eye cracked open. Harry frowned, but subsided, and contented himself with checking Malfoy over, carefully tucking him in close enough to be able to start healing the slashes on his back and neck. Draco shivered and went pliant as the skin knitted back together in seconds, and gave Harry's shoulder a grateful squeeze. Harry shrugged it, making Draco smile a little, and hoisted him up enough to touch their foreheads together, feeling the rhythm of Draco's breathing from the air on his cheek. Their breath puffed together into the cold air, and Draco turned his head slowly, so that Harry's cheek slid along his, the cold tips of their noses pressed against cheekbones. Harry's glasses dug into his skin, and into Draco's as well, and he closed his eyes behind them as Draco's breath began to warm against his jaw.
Draco's lips were cold against his skin. Shivering at the feel of them, Harry couldn't help turning his head just enough to nuzzle, just a little, and then he'd tucked his chin in enough to press his own lips to the corner of Malfoy's, staying there to warm them with his breath until Draco responded by tilting his head just enough -
and then they were kissing, silent except for the faint sounds of chapped lips parting, small breaths gasped into the cold around them. Harry shivered, not from the cold, and hitched Draco's body closer in to his own, draping his own heavy cloak around them both since Malfoy (impractical git) had appeared to forget his own. And then Draco's tongue was on his lips, slicking them cold before tentatively moving inside and suddenly the air was a bit warmer around them. Draco sighed and fisted a hand in the back of his hair, and made a small choking noise in the back of his throat, and Harry couldn't help a whimper as -
The crunch of stone broke through the silencing barriers behind them. Draco shuddered, but opened his eyes as he pulled away, craning to inspect the wall near the door. "It's breaking through," he muttered, only slurring his words a little as he struggled to sit upright on Harry's lap. Worried (he'd never been worried on a mission before, what the fuck?), Harry nodded and rubbed Draco's back.
"The footbridge," he murmured, wincing as he thought of the thirty yards of sprinting they'd have to do to reach the main body of Hogwarts Castle. "Can you?"
"Known how to walk for two decades, Scarhead." Draco gave him an unfocused smirk. "I'll race you."
They picked their way down the stairs to the door connecting the Owlery to the footbridge, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Along the way, Draco remembered that his wand had been knocked out of his hand in the Owlery, which was unlucky - being unarmed against a Dark Creature was considered tantamount to a death wish in Auror circles. However, Harry still had his wand, so they weren't entirely defenceless. They reached the bottom of the staircase, and while Draco leant against the wall and tried to keep very still, Harry slowly opened the door, hoping the rusty hinges would cooperate.
"All right, Malfoy," he muttered, once he'd got the door open enough for Draco to slip out of it. Looking a bit better than he had earlier (though still strikingly bad), Draco moved towards the door and slid out of it, trying to hold it in place as Harry made to slip out as well. They'd both managed to get outside the building, and stared at the length of the footbridge for a moment, intimidated by the length of it. They could hear the banshee still attempting to smash into the other side of the building.
"On the count of three, we run for it," Harry breathed, crouching low at a particularly rough-sounding crash. He reached for Draco's hand, and gave it a quick squeeze.
"Easy peasy," Draco murmured hoarsely. "I'll hold the door open for you when I get there."
Harry couldn't help a quiet chuckle, taking a deep breath. "One." He crouched lower, into a running stance.
"Two." Draco sighed and crouched as well, playing along.
"...Three," Harry hissed, and lunged forward at the same time Malfoy did. Draco took off on his way down the footbridge; Harry tried, but the corner of his winter cloak had got caught in the door when they closed it and when he tried to run, the door screeched shut, pinching the material inside it. A blood-curdling scream from the other side of the building sent a shiver up both mens' spines, and Draco skidded to a stop, going white when he saw Harry pinned by his cloak.
"Draco," Harry cried, tugging on the fastening at his neck and gesturing frantically for him to go ahead. Draco hesitated for a second, but then made his decision and dug his heels in for traction on the slightly-slippery bridge as he scrambled back towards the stairs.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuckfuckfuck," Harry muttered, shaking fingers useless as he tried to yank the fastening open, shrinking down as he and Draco both saw the banshee whip up into the night sky, searching for them. It spotted Harry easily, a dark spot on the white snow, and began to go into a lazy dive, sure of its prey.
"God, Potter, always make things so difficult," Draco snarled as he slid onto his knees on the ground beside Harry, not even bothering with the cloak fastenings, just shoving Harry's head under the collar of his cloak and pulling him away from it easily. "Now move," he barked, grabbing hold of Harry's free hand (the other was clutching his wand) and sprinting for the door at the other end of the footbridge. Harry scrabbled to keep up, the cold air like daggers in his lungs as they both ran as fast as they could towards the other end.
"Alohomo - " Harry began, pointing his wand towards the door as the began to get close, determined to just let them run inside. However, they were suddenly blindsided by the banshee; it struck through the open arches of the bridge, sending him hurtling forward, past Draco, sliding on the icy surface of the bridge as his wand went rattling onto the boards.
"HARRY," Draco shrieked, trying to keep up with him, making a lunge for his wand before it fell into the ravine below. He skidded onto his knees and twisted as he grabbed, only catching it on his fingertips, sliding into Harry at the corner of the footbridge and knocking his head on Harry's knee. Dazed, he shook his head and the first thing he saw was the door. "Harry, we're almost there, we - "
A strangled noise from Harry silenced him, and Draco turned around, gasping and attempting to burrow back into Potter as he was suddenly faced with a banshee not three feet away from them, hovering over the boards of the footbridge, its waxy pale skin seeming to glow in the moonlight. It gazed at them for a moment, black things moving behind its eyes, and then gave them a horrible smile, twice as many pointed teeth in its mouth as there should've been. And then it screamed.
Shuddering, hunching down into himself, Harry nonetheless had the presence of mind to cover up Draco's ears firmly with his own hands, whimpering as the banshee seemed to steal his breath as well as his ability to think and see. It finally stopped, looking almost amused at the way Harry's eyes were bright with pain behind his glasses.
"...You wouldn't happen to be related to the Blacks, would you?"
Both the banshee and Harry blinked curiously at Draco, who was lounging back against Potter as if he'd sprawled there intentionally and they were all discussing current affairs. Only Harry would have noticed the shallow breathing, the stillness associated with pain. "I have an aunt - well, had an aunt, and you remind me of her a bit," he explained. "Mad as a hatter. And she used the same line of cosmetics as you, I think."
The banshee blinked again, and tilted its head to an unnatural angle.
"Oh yes, she screamed a lot too. Especially at the end, I hear," Draco smiled, almost pleasantly except for a chilling thread of malice in his eyes. "Tell her hello, from me. Accio Harry's wand!" he shouted, arm outstretched for the two seconds it took for the familiar stick of wood to come hurtling from the middle of the bridge. "Sectumsempra," he snarled, watching with grim satisfaction as the curse hit the creature and appeared to slash it right in two. The banshee gave them a startled look, and then an aborted shriek of pain as it shrivelled in on itself, barely-contained magic dissipating into the atmosphere until nothing was left but a heap of tattered black fabric and spiderwebs.
Draco and Harry stared at it for a moment, both shivering with cold and adrenalin. "...Holy shit," Harry murmured, recovering first. "You killed it."
"It was already dead," Draco muttered, finally letting go of Harry's wand, letting it clatter onto the boards of the bridge beside them. "I didn't kill it."
"You did, I saw you! You k - "
"Harry," Draco said, turning around to give him a quelling look. Harry swallowed, taken aback, but then nodded and tugged him up close.
"It was already dead, then," Harry murmured, rubbing Draco's back, deciding not to comment on the shaking. "Thanks, by the way."
"Of course," Draco said, his shivering worsening. "Cold."
Harry tsked and reached for his wand, Accio-ing his cloak from the other end of the bridge (and Accio-ing Draco's for good measure). He draped the cloak around Draco's shoulders, not paying attention to the half-hearted protests Draco was muttering. "Shut up and take it. I was cold too," he reasoned, catching Draco's cloak when it showed up a moment later (it had had farther to travel). He arranged that one around Draco's legs.
"You know, you might have just moved me inside the door there, instead of making me stay outside in the snow," Draco pointed out, smirking as he watched Harry flush with embarrassment.
"What can I say, I'm hoping you contract pneumonia," he muttered, bringing a bit of cloak up to cover Draco's ear, pressing the backs of his fingers to Malfoy's cheek gently. "...Thanks, again."
"Please, Potter," Malfoy scoffed, dropping his eyes. "What was I supposed to do, watch you get slashed to ribbons?" He scooted closer into the circle of Harry's arms, his eyes going at the added warmth. "Without any help from me?" he added a moment later, smirking.
And then, before Harry could respond, Malfoy tugged him down into a thorough kiss and kept him there.
Draco grunted as Harry pressed him up against the corridor wall, pinning thin wrists to a point just above his shoulders. Harry kissed him again, firmly, demanding control and not letting up until Draco willingly gave over. He whimpered and nipped at Harry's lip, twisting his head away to suck in a lungful of air before coming back for more.
"Where on earth did you learn to kiss like this?" Draco asked, pleased, after Harry had coaxed a sharp whine out of him by sucking on his tongue.
"Well, I'd been snogging you for almost a month before you went frigid ice bitch on me, I suppose that counts for something," Harry pointed out, smirking as he provoked another interesting noise by licking at the underside of Malfoy's top lip.
"You learned from a master," Draco said loftily.
"...bater," Harry added, smirking as Draco just gazed at him confusedly. After a second, however, Draco caught on and smacked his arm irritably.
"How you've managed to reach this advanced age still a virgin is beyond me," he drawled, opening the door to their rooms.
"I was saving myself for Jesus," Harry said breezily, beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt, depositing his winter cloak in a heap on the floor. Draco watched him, eyes darkening interestedly as the pale, smooth skin of Harry's stomach was gradually exposed. He cast a drying and folding charm on the cloak on the floor, then crossed towards Harry, plucking his fingers away to take care of the buttons himself.
"No more talking," Draco decided, imperious, as he finished with Harry's buttons and pushed the material off his shoulders, looking him over approvingly. Harry smirked and tugged on Malfoy's belt, unfastening it as he crowded in for another kiss, shivering as chilly hands warmed themselves on his sides. They kissed easily (they'd had an ample amount of practice time, after all), content with an almost placid exploration until Harry managed to tug Draco's jumper up over his head and they were suddenly chest to chest, skin to skin - things were, after that, a lot more urgent.
Harry didn't realise Draco had backed him to the bed until he actually fell down on it, arms windmilling a little until he realised the mattress was there to catch him and that Draco wasn't actually letting go - they both collapsed and wheezed for a second, before Draco clambered up onto Harry's stomach, straddling his hips, and licked a long line over his collarbones. Sucking in a startled breath, Harry groaned and arched, and then a moment later turned them over, so that they were in the middle of the bed. He settled between Draco's thighs and grinned down at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he pulled back enough to just look - Draco was too pale and thin, but pretty, his neck and chest flushed with arousal and his hair falling in waves around his head like a dandelion. Harry paused, almost frowning, and traced the silvery-white line of the old Sectumsempra scar from his shoulder to his side, glancing up as Draco shivered. "Hurt?"
"Did at the time," Malfoy replied, a little breathless. "Doesn't now," he added, shrugging a bony shoulder as he tugged Harry into another kiss, more heated this time as they started to move together on the bed, their hips working fitfully against each other until they managed to find a pace that worked. Draco squeezed Harry's thighs with his own.
"Fuck," Harry gasped, surging forward, his stomach twisting with wand as he felt the line of Malfoy's cock rubbing insistently against his own, between too many layers of clothing. Under him, Draco whimpered and hitched his hips up higher, rocking mindlessly. Draco's tongue was pink on his lips, wetting them just before they opened around an uneven yes and that seemed consent enough to both of them - Harry's hands were shaking with want as he fumbled with Draco's trousers and underwear a few seconds later, tugging them out of the way, gazing dumbly at an erection that wasn't his own until Draco huffed and wriggled the rest of the way out of the clothes himself.
"Come on, Potter," he said, grabbing for the buttons on Harry's jeans, startled when Harry grabbed his wrist and pinned it on the mattress.
"Harry," he said, having to kiss the confused look Malfoy gave him. "Not Potter." It took him a second, but then Draco relaxed and nodded, tugging his hand away from Harry's grip and lying back, letting him take care of his own jeans and boxers.
"Well, stop stalling, Harry," Draco smirked, stretching underneath him, eyes going dark and half-lidded as he looked Potter over.
"Eager, are you?" Harry smirked back, chucking his clothes onto a chair beside the bed and stretching out on top of him, closing his eyes at the feeling of so much skin against his own. Draco didn't respond, he just arched his back and squirmed, sending stars shooting through Harry's vision.
Both physically exhausted and emotionally raw (a near-death experience'll do that), neither Harry nor Draco were patient enough to discuss what it was they were doing (or, indeed, how to do it). Draco knew a lubrication spell, and Harry'd heard about the prostate gland from Ron (Hermione was very thorough in her sexual experiments), and luckily they were both limber enough not to do each other any permanent damage.
There was, also, a certain strange charge between them - one that had been tempered by mutual hatred and lately, ironic pet names - that made the experience...unique. Harry quaked with nervousness and lust as he made his first hesitant press inside Draco's body, and there was a long minute where everything was scarily on the brink of going pear-shaped. And then Draco gasped and opened his eyes, looking directly up at him, and Harry suddenly felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest as he gazed back down. He swallowed and moved, tentative at first, his breath sticking in the back of his throat as he watched Draco's chest hitch and judder in a fruitless effort to keep his breathing steady.
"Good?" he managed, sounding strangled. Draco nodded, his mouth falling open and his eyes closing.
They were uncharacteristically quiet - Draco's breathing was quick and nervous and loud in the room, slowly evening out, and Harry was sure that if he tried to say anything sexy, he'd end up sounding ridiculous, so he'd resolved not to before they even began. Then, a moment or two later, Harry's knee slipped on the bedsheets as he pushed in and Draco let out a ridiculous-sounding moan - Harry was certain he'd accidentally killed him. "Shit, sorry!" he gasped, trying to still his hips and failing spectacularly - he let out his own small groan as he thrust in again, and was shocked even more than the first time as Draco moaned again. "Oh God, am I killing you?" he whimpered, though he wasn't really planning to stop even if he was.
"...fuck yes don't stop," Draco choked a couple of seconds later, his hips giving a funny little swivel that served to push Harry even farther in. Harry gasped, startled, and then broke into a grin as he cottoned on, and he planted his knees more firmly, keeping about the same angle and watching, delighted, as Draco just came apart.
"Ohoh, shit, P - Harry, don't fucking stop, don't you dare - " Draco whimpered, graduating to just rutting shamelessly, his face flushing redder than Harry had ever seen it. Harry couldn't help it, he stared at Draco, hypnotised by what he was causing. A shiver of need worked through him, making him fuck in harder as he watched Draco thrash and bite at the corner of the duvet to try to shut himself up.
"No, keep, it's - fuck," Harry gasped, dragging the duvet away from him, tugging it out of his mouth. "Keep going," he groaned, having to rest his forehead against Draco's neck as he sped up, trying to match the rhythm Draco was setting. His arms were shaking, threatening to give way, and after another minute Harry just gave up and curled around him entirely, hands clutching his shoulders as he tried to get in deeper, faster. A sharp lance of pain in his arm distracted him, until he realised Draco was biting him, hard enough to bruise, and Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and his hips pounded against Malfoy's arse mercilessly.
Draco's whimpers were gradually rising, til they were a good octave higher than where they'd begun, before he let go of Harry's arm and pressed his head back into the pillows, neck stretching as far as it could as he alternately pleaded and demanded for Harry not to stop, to keep fucking him, to make him come. He managed to get a fistful of hair and drag Harry's mouth to his neck, pressing him in until Harry took the hint and bit down as well, not hard, licking at salt-sweat skin as he felt Draco's legs start to twitch around him. Draco accidentally elbowed Harry in the gut as he wormed a hand between them to pump his own cock feverishly, his fingers starting to shake as he felt the first firings of his climax low in his belly.
"Going to - fuck, Potter," he whined, the shaking spreading to his limbs, "fuck, you're going to make me - " and he gasped, interrupting himself and going rigid in Harry's arms as he came, spurts of white slicking over both their stomachs as he kept shaking. The hand that had been in Harry's hair was suddenly on his back, slipping on sweat, and Draco's uneven nails were scratching pink trails in his skin, shocking him that much closer towards his own end.
Harry nearly choked on a desperate little moan, his skin prickling with how close he was, and his mouth had fallen open against Draco's neck as he felt the heat of the scratches and the pulses of come hitting his skin. He didn't last another two thrusts before he was coming as well, his vision going swimmy as he shot inside Draco's arse and swore he could feel his own come slick and hot around him, the pulse of his heart in all of his extremities.
(Given Harry's reaction to the scratches, Draco quickly made plans to appropriate one of those scarring quills of Umbridge's.)
Overcome and half-conscious, Harry slumped down onto Draco, breath hot against his neck as they both tried to recover from being nearly killed twice in one evening - first by a banshee and then by inescapably earth-shattering sex. "Oh, my god," he breathed, eyes closing. He felt, rather than saw, Draco nod.
"That was...surprising," Draco sighed a moment later, his own eyes closed as well. "Christ, Potter," he murmured, breaking into a genuine smile.
"Mmmmm. Yeah," Harry muttered. "...Maybe I am gay."
Draco couldn't help it; he started laughing - tired, half-whimpering laughter that shook Harry on his chest. "Don't know where you'd get that idea," he murmured, opening his eyes enough to tap Harry's shoulder. "Oi there, no falling asleep where you are, we'll be glued together when we wake up."
"Mmrph," Harry mumbled, hiding his face in Draco's chest. "You'd like it."
"...Hm." Draco seemed to consider the idea for a moment, but then went back to pestering him. "No, no. Get off, we can do it again tomorrow. And do some cleaning spells, you're the one who's good at them."
"What? No! You do them."
"Potter - Harry, you know that I'm terrible with them, we'll just get spunk all over the sheets if you don't."
"Hmm. ...All right, I will if you'll say the word 'spunk' again."
Draco snorted and hit his shoulder. Harry blinked his eyes open and gave a huge sigh, and propped himself up on an elbow as he got off of Malfoy and reached for his wand. A round of cleaning spells later, Draco had mercifully stopped nagging, and they were both burrowed comfortably down into the bedcovers and pillows. Draco yawned hugely, and dragged one of Harry's arms around his waist, hugging it. Harry stretched and curled around him comfortably.
"Night, sweetpea," Harry teased gently, squeezing the arm around him.
"Night, darling," a half-asleep Draco mumbled back.