bottom_draco

Title: Draco’s Last Important Task
Author:

marianna_merlo
Prompt: PROMPT #85
Adapted from: Goldilocks and the Three Bears
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Various/Draco
Word Count: 8,200
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): *Flangst, Silliness verging on crack*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A huge thank you to C for the beta <3 This would never have been what it is without

g_bowneyes help!!
Summary: Being a virgin in Eighth Year is just not okay. But finding someone to have sex with is harder than Draco had imagined.

The long walk from the Transfiguration classroom to the dungeons seemed a lot shorter to Draco when he was fuming so intensely. His angry mind was too distracted to notice the distance. Too distracted with half-formed plans about the best way to end Potter’s meddling, little life. So far, he had come up with hexing (which wasn’t very imaginative), stabbing (which would be too messy), strangling (which held the risk of Potter throwing him off), and, what he personally considered a more unexpected scenario, hanging.

Why couldn’t Potter just leave him alone? It was as if Potter still suspected him of being up to something horrible. A nagging voice in Draco’s head reminded him that Potter certainly had reasons to be suspicious, and no one would blame him if he were.

If only Potter would stop staring at him, maybe Draco could relax enough in his classes to actually do well. Because if Draco wasn’t getting stellar marks, it was obviously Potter’s fault - not Draco’s fault at all. No, it was Potter, with his bright green eyes always aimed in Draco’s direction. It didn’t help that they sat near each other in every bleeding class, lumped together as Eighth Year’s.

Draco scowled at the memory of Potter staring at him in Transfiguration, only minutes ago. Draco had tried to catch him in the act - tried to stealthily turn his head at just the right moment - but Potter always looked away just in time. But Draco knew that Potter knew that he knew that Potter was looking at him; Potter’s cheeks were always pink whenever Draco almost caught him. This was part of the reason Draco was doing so bad in classes this year; it took a lot of time, effort, and mental energy to try and catch Potter in every class. How was Draco expected to focus on the professor when he had Potter issues to attend to?

Draco sighed as he hopped off the final stair on his way to the dungeons. This whole thing was making him ill. He had the most terrible stomach spasms every time Potter looked at him. Draco could only attribute those to stress, and maybe a little bit to disgust. Potter was disgusting, after all, so it was no wonder Draco started feeling all hot and feverish whenever Potter came near; Potter’s grossness was making him sick. There was no other explanation for his symptoms, Draco was sure. And if sometimes, in the dead of night, under his covers, behind his drawn curtains, Draco’s ill mind flashed images of Potter kissing him, well... that was only because Draco hadn’t got properly laid in a while.

Or ever, said that very unhelpful voice in his head, and Draco scowled.

He reached the expanse of stone wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and he entered. He felt even more ill than usual. At eighteen-years-old, he felt it was only normal to have properly lost his virginity by now.

But whom could he fuck who was even worthy? He looked around the common room, scanning the leather sofas and chairs for their occupants. A petite blonde girl sat by the fire reading a book. No, she wouldn’t do. In fact, Draco didn’t particularly fancy the idea of doing it with a girl at all. There was a group of boys sitting together on the other end of the common room, looking brooding and miserable. Draco grimaced.

With another sigh of frustration, Draco made his way toward Goyle, who was sitting alone at a table.

“What is that?” Draco asked, looking down his nose at the scroll of parchment laid out in front of Goyle. “You’re not doing homework, are you?”

“Yes.” Goyle barely looked up.

Draco huffed. “That’s a first.” He swung his bag off his shoulder and let it fall onto the table. Sitting down across from Goyle, he noticed his bag had just crumpled Goyle’s scroll. He smirked; Goyle was such a pansy, he wouldn’t say anything.

True enough, Goyle remained silent and didn’t even push Draco’s bag away.

Lounging lazily in his seat, Draco appraised Goyle for the first time in... ever. Goyle was someone he could control, someone he could count on not to judge him. Maybe Goyle was the perfect person to lose his virginity to. He trusted Goyle more than anyone else at Hogwarts, and Goyle wasn’t terribly bad looking. In fact, if you ignored his face and only focused on his body, the bloke was pretty fit. Draco had seen Goyle’s innate strength firsthand many times when Goyle pushed people out of the way in the hall. He had huge muscles....

Draco’s eyes widened. Surely anyone with muscles that big must also have an abnormally large....

“Goyle.”

Goyle looked up.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Goyle blinked. “Yeah?”

“How would you like to go to our room...with me... and....” He bit his lip. This was harder to bring up than he thought it would be. It was awkward, really. How was one supposed to go about asking his mate to fuck him? “Just come with me, Goyle.”

Draco made sure Goyle was following him. When he looked into their room and found it empty, he pulled Goyle inside and slammed the door shut.

He turned to look at Goyle, who was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. He took a deep breath and leaned in. And then he leaned in a little more... and then a little more....

He pulled back - there was no way he was going to kiss Goyle.

Goyle looked very, very confused. His face was beet-red and looked like an inflated tomato. Which made Draco even less inclined to kiss him.

When he realized he was scowling, Draco took a deep breath and tried to force himself to relax. “All right.” He exhaled. “All right. We’re gonna do this.”

“Do what?”

“Fuck.” Draco swallowed hard. He couldn’t believe he’d just said it. Goyle looked like he was going to bolt any moment. “Don’t be a ninny, Goyle, it’s just a bit of fucking. I figured since you’ve never fucked a girl - pathetic virgin that you are - I would help you out as a friend, see? I’m going to let you practice on me. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

Goyle let his jaw drop - rather dumbly, in Draco’s opinion - and looked, if possible, even more confused. “But I have shagged a girl.”

Draco burst into laughter. “Come, now, Goyle.... No need to make things up to impress me.” He ignored the put-out look on Goyle’s face. “I am going to undress now.”

It was possibly the most awkward experience of Draco’s life. In the space of a moment, he forgot how to undress himself. His fingers didn’t work when he tried unbuttoning his white school shirt. His legs became tangled in his trousers when he tried to shake them off, and he stumbled backward and landed on the bed. It didn’t help that Goyle stared at him open-mouthed the whole time.

When he was finally in just his pants, Draco sat on the bed panting. This was challenging, this fucking business. “Here goes...” he murmured to himself. With a determined set of his jaw, he gripped the waist of his pants and pulled them down in one, swift motion.

Goyle’s eyes immediately jumped to Draco’s cock and widened twofold. Draco felt his cheeks get hot, and he was painfully aware of how soft he was. Did it matter that he was soft if he was going to take it up the arse anyways? He wondered if Goyle would be able to tell he’d never done this before. No matter - he would just have to exude confidence.

“Come here,” he commanded, pointing a finger at the ground in front of himself. Immediately, he realized how stupid he had just sounded.

Nevertheless, Goyle came. In fact, he basically stampeded on his way over, and Draco momentarily panicked thinking Goyle was going to tackle him.

“Bloody fuck, Goyle.” He breathed heavily, trying to slow his racing heart. “Relax, would you?”

Goyle raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”

“Oh... right.”

As soon as Goyle began undressing, Draco realized he didn’t really want to see it; muscles or no muscles, it was Goyle. He had better be hung like a horse for all Draco was going through.

Draco turned around and climbed onto his bed. He really had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he did the only thing he could think of - he laid on his stomach. At first, he put hands at his sides and his feet together, but then he felt awkward, so he crossed his arms under his chin.

The bed dipped as Goyle got on it behind him, and Draco felt a sick drop in his stomach. It was nothing like the fluttery feeling his stomach had around Potter; this made Draco feel like he was going to be sick.

Goyle touched his arse, and Draco squeaked and jumped, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in his arms.

“Are you sure about this?” Goyle asked.

No, was Draco’s immediate thought, but he nodded instead.

He felt the stretch that meant Goyle was pulling apart his arse cheeks. Draco couldn’t help but clench his arsehole tightly; it was an instant reaction.

“I’m going in.”

Draco nodded again. He was so tense, he wondered if Goyle would even be able to breach him. His back muscles were taut, his arse was closed to the world, and his face was screwed up, anticipating the pain.

There was a soft push... and then another. Draco relaxed a bit; surprisingly, it was uncomfortable, but not painful. It felt like he was being stretched, but not like he was being torn open. Was Goyle using his fingers?

Goyle began to hump him, and Draco lifted his head. With a frown, he remained perfectly still and tried to figure out what Goyle was doing - he was afraid if he actually turned his head to look, he would develop Goyle nightmares, and that was not an option.

“Goyle?” he drawled.

Huff. “Yeah?” Huff.

Draco was bouncing on the mattress from Goyle’s ridiculous boulder-like weight, and his frown deepened. “Are you even in yet?”

“What?”

“Have you put your dick in yet, or what the fuck are you doing? Are those your fingers? Have you got only the tip in?”

“What are you talking about?” Huff. “I am in!”

“Oh, fucking hell....” Draco rolled his eyes. He settled his chin back onto his crossed arms and pouted. He was just going to have to wait it out.

Fuck that.

“Get off me.” Draco raised himself up, his hands planted in the mattress.

“What?”

“Off, off!”

Goyle pulled out - which wasn’t much of a process - and Draco turned to look at him. Between his muscular thighs was a little, pink prick, sticking up fiercely in a way Draco could only describe as an angry needle.

Goyle was breathing heavily. “Can I at least come on your arse?”

Draco thought about it. “As long as you clean it up.”

Goyle nodded furiously, so Draco turned back around. While he was facing the headboard, listening to Goyle’s grunts, that annoying voice in his head came back and told him it wouldn’t be so bad if he imagined it were Potter. Draco’s cock twitched for the first time all evening, and he suddenly became very hot. But he had to resist those types of traitorous thoughts. He forced himself to block them out and focus on the fact that it was Goyle behind him. He cringed when he felt hot wetness against his bottom.

What was worse was that Goyle forgot how to perform the cleaning spell, so Draco had to wait while Goyle got a tissue.

- - -

Draco had to get out of his room... out of the common room... and even out of the dungeons. That was a terrible experience, and he decided it didn’t count. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t lost his virginity. Goyle was misleading people with his body size, damn him, and he should be ashamed of himself.

Draco found that his legs had carried him outside, and he breathed in the fresh air. It felt wonderful against his heated cheeks.

Oh, bugger, there was Potter....

Potter immediately caught sight of Draco from across the courtyard, and, to Draco’s surprise and horror, he began to walk straight over to him.

Draco turned around and pretended to be very interested in a flowering, green bush.

“Malfoy!”

Draco plucked a flower off the bush and began to examine it.

“Malfoy. Hey... Hi.”

Well, it seemed he wasn’t getting out of this. Draco heaved a sigh and turned around. His stomach immediately began to do that fluttering thing. “Hello, Potter.”

“Hey.” Potter’s face was flushed pink, probably from running all the way across the courtyard. Draco saw Weasley and Finnegan in the distance, staring with furrowed brows. Potter, however, grinned broadly, as though he couldn’t contain himself.

Draco waited for Potter to address him with some sort of question, comment, or concern - he must have had a reason for legging it over here. But, obviously, Potter was being dim.

“What?” Draco prompted.

“Er....” Potter licked his bottom lip. His very full, bitable bottom lip.

Draco almost slapped himself.

“Are you... Aren’t you...” Potter held up his broom. “Aren’t you on the Slytherin team anymore?”

“Quidditch?” Draco glared. “Am I on the Quidditch team?”

Potter nodded, his brows knitted together. He suddenly looked very unsure of himself.

Draco crossed his arms. “Well, considering the fact that flying through the air would make me a prime target for anyone who might be ticked off about the war... No, I am not on the bloody team. Idiot,” he added under his breath. Trust Potter to get his blood pumping like this.

Potter raised his eyebrows. He did not look amused. “Anyone who might be ticked off?” Now, he was pink not with exertion, but with what looked like annoyance. “Obviously people would be a bit ticked off. More than, I’d think.”

Draco scoffed and looked up at the sky, avoiding Potter’s eyes.

“Do you even understand what....” Potter shook his head, taking his comment in completely the wrong way, as far as Draco was concerned. “How could you even say....”

Draco felt a nerve in his temple begin to throb. “Why are you even talking to me, then?”

“I don’t know!” Potter turned on his heel and stormed off.

Draco suddenly felt a terrible, sad weight settle over him. Potter took everything so seriously. Of course Draco didn’t mean that people were silly to be angry about his role in the war. Hell, he was angry about his role in the war. He was just being sarcastic, because Potter was being so ridiculously awkward.

The voice in his head told him that, actually, the word he was looking for was nice.

“Potter’s not nice,” Draco hissed and kicked the bush.

Flower petals tumbled to the grass in a flurry of pink and white.

- - -

Draco let himself wallow in a strange mixture of self-loathing and self-pity for the remainder of the week, and when Hogsmeade weekend came around, he vowed not to go. He planned, instead, to spend a lot of time alone in his room being dramatically miserable. However, Goyle nagged him all morning about visiting Honeydukes, and, inevitably, the idea of chocolate took hold. He decided a trip to Honeydukes was not a bad idea, and began imagining what he would buy even as he pulled on his trousers.

To his great annoyance, Honeydukes was packed. Predictably, there was a throng of First Years milling about, because they had never before seen things like Sugar Quills and were much too bouncy with excitement. They clogged up the aisles in groups, and Draco could hardly get through. Draco hated First Years more than almost anything in the world - more than Potter, even - and he pushed one or two out of the way as he marched to the very back of the store. There is where they kept the chocolate. Draco knew this, because Draco bought a lot of chocolate.

Draco stopped and stared, wide-eyed. There, on the highest shelf, was what he needed. A chocolate wand.

He reached up and took one down, holding it almost reverently in his hand. The words Milk Chocolate Wizard’s Wand glittered in gold on the shiny, blue wrapping. Draco’s mouth began to water just looking at it. He was so sexually frustrated, all he wanted to do was suck on this wand and pretend it was a cock. It’s what he always did, since he was thirteen and had first come to Honeydukes. His friends asked why he liked the Wizard’s Wands so much, and he simply told them they were the best chocolate Honeydukes sold. No one, as far as he knew, even suspected that he imagined a cock while he sucked on one. He knew a real cock was much thicker, but, for lack of the real thing, this would have to suffice.

Goyle was still eyeing the candy in another row, so Draco quickly paid and left. Once he left Honeydukes, he immediately unwrapped the chocolate wand.

He made his way to the furthest end of Hogsmeade, toward the direction of the Shrieking Shack, where there was hardly anyone around. As he walked, he sucked on it like a lollipop, hollowing his cheeks and slurping the melting chocolate. It tasted so good, he even hummed around the wand. His mind started to travel elsewhere, sending him visions of blokes with their cocks out, holding them in tight fists while Draco knelt before them, his mouth open and ready to take anything. As he envisioned it, he stuck the chocolate wand far down his throat, gagging himself on it. He badly wished it were the real thing. He imagined it being a long, hard cock attached to a fit bloke, and Draco would take the soft head between his lips and suck, looking up into those bright green eyes and dark, messy hair.

AH! He choked on a bit of chocolate, falling into a coughing fit. He hadn’t just imagined... No, it couldn’t have been him. Surely, lots of nameless, faceless fantasy-blokes ended up having green eyes. It was a legitimate eye color, after all. People’s eyes were that color sometimes; it’s not like only he had that eye color. Similarly, Draco was quite sure that he was allowed to picture brunet men in his sexual fantasies without those men automatically equating to... him.

But then, why did he automatically assume he had just fantasized about Potter. About sucking Potter’s cock?

Oh, the thought left Draco with shivers running all the way down his arms and legs and spine. Blood rushed south, and his cock swelling instantly, and he had a sudden desire to take Potter’s cock so deep, he buried his nose in Potter’s groin.

Draco hated when he started to think about Potter like this. It’s not like Potter would ever feel the same way, and that only made Draco feel like a girl with a stupid, pointless crush.

He threw the wand onto the ground. It wasn’t useful anymore anyways, as he had sucked it so hard, it had formed a dip in the middle and the tip was tapered into a point. It no longer served his cock fantasies because it no longer resembled a cock, he thought angrily, stomping back toward Hogsmeade.

He stopped at the first pub he saw and went inside, heading straight for the bar.

“Oh, bloody hell, it’s you,” he said, scowling at Weasley’s red head and hideously clashing orange shirt. “Is that a Canons shirt?”

“Hello, Malfoy.” Weasley was sitting on a pub stool, and, for whatever reason, Draco took the seat next to him. “Yes, it is the Canons. I take it you don’t follow them?”

Draco scoffed. “Not likely. What a pathetic excuse for a Quidditch team.”

“Oi! They happen to be my favorite team! I followed them since I could get on a broom.”

“So since last year, then?”

“Oh, stuff it, Malfoy.”

Suddenly, Draco’s plan to order a drink vanished completely as images of getting stuffed made their way through his mind. He swallowed, pulling his shirt collar to let his neck breathe; he could feel himself heating up all over.

He looked at Weasley from the corner of his eye, assessing him for the first time ever. Tall, muscular, athletic-build. Long, straight nose, and strong jawline. Draco wondered...

“What are you doing here alone, Weasley?”

Weasley narrowed his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

Draco’s first instinct was to scowl and insult Weasley’s hair, but he decided that was not the best approach at the moment. Instead, he plastered on his most charming grin. “I’m just wondering if you’ll have enough time for another drink. Let me get you one.” He gestured to the bartender.

Weasley’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Are you all right?”

“I just want to make amends, and say thank you.” Draco grabbed one of the two pints and slid one in front of Weasley. “Let’s start fresh?” He turned in his stool, letting one of his knees brush against Weasley’s thigh.

“Er... sure. Malfoy, are you sure you haven’t hit your head? Tripped, maybe?”

“Oh, come off it, Weasley!” Draco paused. “I mean... no, I am totally fine. I assure you.” He couldn’t let his temper get the best of him, even if Weasley was an annoying sod. “Just trying to be nice, is all.”

Weasley frowned, staring at Draco for a moment, and then he shrugged and picked up his pint. “Cheers,” he said, before taking a generous drink.

Draco raised his own mug. “Cheers.” He needed this drink if he were going to be able to pull this off, so he threw his head back and drank it halfway in one go.

“Take it easy, there, Malfoy!” Weasley was smiling, which Draco took as a good sign.

With renewed confidence, Draco leaned forward with his elbow on the bar. “So tell me. Why are you here alone? Potter and Granger run away together?”

To his surprise, Weasley laughed, and, to his even greater surprise, Draco found the sound enjoyable, and he wanted to hear more.

“No,” Weasley said. “Can you bloody imagine? That would never work out.”

“Why is that?”

“Well...” Weasley’s cheeks actually colored, which Draco found very interesting. “Harry wouldn’t fancy her, for one thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said, wondering what Weasley meant. “They’ve been friends for long enough, and I’ve never met a bloke who wouldn’t try something. He’s thought about it, surely. Must have.”

“Well, see, I don’t know if he has.” Weasley picked up his drink again suddenly. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”

“Telling me what? All I know so far is that Potter would not shag Granger... which is not very gossip-worthy, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“I wouldn’t shag Granger, either.”

Weasley looked at him like Draco was treading on dangerous ground. “Watch what you say, Malfoy. I don’t want to hear that she’s a Mu - ”

“No, no,” Draco interrupted him, waving his hand and letting it fall on Weasley’s thigh. Weasley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he stared at Draco’s hand. The fact he didn’t brush it off was another good sign. “It’s a bit simpler than that, see? I don’t want to fuck Granger because...” He leaned in, whispering low in Weasley’s ear so no one else would overhear. “... I want to be fucked.”

Weasley exhaled in almost a whistle. “Bloody hell.”

Draco looked at him with a smirk, raising his eyebrows.

“Wh... Wha... What are you...?”

His hand was still on Weasley’s thigh, and Draco squeezed, feeling Weasley’s muscles stiffen. “Come to the loo with me.” Weasley looked more stunned and confused than he did in Potions class. “It’ll be our secret, I promise. Let’s make amends, like I said. Yes?”

Weasley bit his lip. “I don’t know if I should... Harry...” He glanced toward the door.

A horrible feeling, like this was very wrong, clenched at Draco’s heart, but he forced himself to swallow it down and ignore it. “Potter won’t find out. Besides, you can leave the loo first, and he won’t even notice I’ve come out after you.”

“No, it’s not that.” Weasley seemed to be battling with himself, his eyebrows furrowed together in worry. He continued to bite his lower lip until it turned bright red, sneaking glances from the door to Draco, and back. “Oh, fuck it. He’ll never actually admit he likes y- ” He cleared his throat. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Excellent.” Draco grinned.

As they walked through the pub, Weasley leading the way to the loos in the back, Draco’s body buzzed with nerves. He was antsy, and he couldn’t keep his hands still, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He was going to lose his virginity to Weasley. He was going to get fucked for the first time ever. Draco wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he pushed those types of thoughts aside, because... honestly, he was going to be fucked!

Weasley looked around the loo. “Empty. Thank Merlin.”

Draco suddenly realized, much like last time, that he had no idea what to do. He stood awkwardly by the sinks. His only comfort was that Weasley looked just as uncomfortable.

“So,” Weasley said lamely. “Let’s do this.”

“Yes.” Draco licked his lips, trying to think. He should probably undress... although he suddenly didn’t want to. “We should go into a stall.”

“Oh, yes. Probably should.” Weasley turned around, looking at the three stalls. He blinked at them, momentarily silent. “Which one?”

Draco assessed the stalls. “It’s hard to say. Probably the biggest one.”

“Which one is that? They’re all the same.”

“Very true.”

Weasley walked into the middle one. “This one’ll do.” He turned to look at Draco, suddenly blushing. “Come on, then.”

Now that Weasley was inside a stall, holding the door open, Draco realized the stall was not very large. Would he even fit in there? Weasley was such a tall and big sort of bloke, he took up all the remaining space outside the toilet and the roll of toilet paper that jutted from the wall.

He stepped inside, and he found his chest pressed against Weasley’s - it was the only way to get the door shut. Weasley’s body was warm, and he smelled rather good, like shampoo and Quidditch leather. Draco stared at Weasley’s chin, unable to look up and meet his eyes.

“I suppose you should turn around,” Weasley said in a strange, serious voice.

“Yes.” Draco turned, shoulder momentarily brushing Weasley’s chest, and faced the door of the stall. He felt Weasley’s breath tickling his hair, and he felt shivers run through him. This was really happening.

He heard a zipper, and some fabric moving, his heart sped up. Then Weasley said, “Take off your jeans.”

Trying to keep his hands from trembling, he unbuttoned and unzipped until he could slide his jeans down. He kept hearing whispers of “Shit” as he slid his underwear down, but they weren’t reverent Shits; they sounded more like scared Shits, like Weasley might be just as unsure about this as Draco was.

“All right.” Weasley said brokenly. “Here goes...”

There was large press against Draco’s arsehole, and his eyes flew wide open. Putting his palms flat against the door of the stall, Draco squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to take it. Either he was expecting something akin to the Goyle fiasco, or he simply wasn’t aware of how big Weasley truly was, because Draco had not been prepared for the excruciating pain that followed. “Oh, bloody hell,” he shouted, feeling as though his arse were being torn in half. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?”

Weasley’s voice was strained. “What the fuck do you think, Malfoy?”

“Are you fucking me with your bloody fist?” Draco bit his lip to stop himself from screaming.

“No!” came Weasley’s affronted cry. “It’s my cock.”

“What kind of a cock is that? A Hippogryff’s?”

“Not my fault you’re so tight.”

“Just stop.”

“I have stopped.”

“No, I mean stop! Pull it out. Just take it all out.”

The pressure went away, and Draco let out a strangled sigh of relief.

“That was only the very tip, Malfoy.”

Draco spun around, and when his eyes landed on the monster between Weasley’s legs, he nearly shrieked again. “Fuck!”

Weasley had the audacity to smirk. He gripped his thick cock in his fist and shook it once. “Nice, eh?”

“This is not happening.” Draco pulled his pants and jeans back on, quickly buttoning them and straightening out his shirt. “Weasley, you’re going to kill someone with that thing.”

Weasley grinned.

Draco turned back to the door and unlocked it, pressing into Weasley once more in order to get the door open. However, once he looked up, his heart almost stopped.

Potter stood there with his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide in shock, staring at the stall like he had been Petrified. Draco was frozen in place, his back pressed against Weasley’s body.

- - -

Harry felt his heartbeat pound against his chest, which was already tight from lack of air; but could he breathe after what he’d just seen? For a moment, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes, until Ron cleared his throat and began to pull his trousers up, and Harry caught a glance of his cock. That’s when his lungs decided to close up, and he rushed out of the loo, desperately seeing air.

He wasn’t sure which emotion overpowered him more, at the moment: anger or jealousy. Both raged so sharply, he was momentarily blinded to the people in the pub as he pushed one or another out of his way. The only thought on his mind was to get out - though out where, he hadn’t decided - and as far away from that horrific scene as possible.

Arms grabbed him and pulled his sleeve, voices laughingly shouted his and invited him for a drink or a dance, but Harry moved on. No sooner had he stepped past the front door and onto the cobblestone street when he heard the one voice he couldn’t run from. It paused him mid-step, forcing him to turn and face its owner.

“Potter.”

Harry took in Draco’s appearance, which only made him feel sicker. His blond hair was slightly disheveled, and his cheeks were bright pink. Just the sight made Harry’s chest ache.

“Please, stop.” Draco walked toward him.

“No, go back to what you were doing.” A scowl formed on his face. “Didn’t mean to stop you. Walked in at the wrong time, that’s all. Go back to playing whatever little sick game you’re playing.”

Evidently, this was not the right thing to say, because Draco started to look less sorry and more ticked off. “Oh, so are you calling your best mate sick, too?”

“Of course not.”

“Or is it the fact that he’s shagging me that bothers you?”

Harry scowled, feeling anger cloud his mind. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, it is.”

“I see.” A coldness entered Draco’s eyes, sharpening his glare. “I’m that disgusting, am I? I revolt you that much, do I, Potter?”

Harry wanted to say, yes, that was exactly it, so he could hurt Draco as much as he was hurting now, but something tugged at Harry’s heart, and his gaze softened. “No, Draco, that’s not it.”

Draco yelled, “What is it then?” His fists were curled at his sides, his posture stiff with anger. “Tell me once and for all, so I can just know already and stop having to wrack my brain every day trying to figure out what I’ve done wrong. What is the reason you’ve been so horrible to me this year, when I haven’t done a single thing to get in your way?”

“What?” Harry felt as though Draco had hit him in the face. “Horrible to you?” Taking two steps forward, he met Draco nose-to-nose, and they both straightened up defensively. “I have been nothing but nice to you ever since this year started. It’s you who has been shagging everyone in that bloody castle except me!”

This time, Draco did hit him in the face. He punched Harry in the nose, making pain flame to life between Harry’s eyes. He cried out, doubling over and clutching his nose. It felt broken... and bloody. He didn’t have time to nurse his wound, though, because next thing he knew, his back was pinned against the stone wall of the hallway, and his circulation was cut off by his own shirt collar.

Draco’s fists were wrapped in it, holding Harry in place. “You bastard,” he said, voice breaking. “Don’t you ever insult me like that again. No one calls me a slag, you hear me?” He pulled Harry’s head off the wall only to knock it back once more.

Harry winced, pain clouding his vision as both his nose and the back of his skull ached. With all the strength he could muster, he shoved his entire body weight into Draco and managed to knock him back a few steps.

“That’s not what I meant, you raging psychopath. Get off me.”

“No, I hate you!”

With a grunt, Harry knock Draco to the ground solely to get him off, and Draco kicked out his legs, tripping Harry right next to him. In the space of a second, Harry found himself tangled with Draco limb for limb, rolling around outside and drawing a crowd. He vaguely heard the bell of the pub door and ensuing footsteps.

“It’s Potter and Malfoy,” came a voice that sounded like Seamus, who was supposed to meet them at the pub, and, apparently, he’d got here just in time to witness the fight.

“Harry?” That was Ron. “Get up, will you?”

Harry suddenly felt like he was fighting the wrong person. He did get up, spinning on his heel to face Ron, who looked confused.

Ron pointed to his face. “Harry, you’re bleeding.” His eyes traveled past him to Draco, who was just getting up off the ground, and back to Harry. “Listen, there’s no need to fight him. Don’t be mad at Malfoy; this time, he’s really done nothing wrong.”

“How could you?” Harry asked, trying to hold back from jumping on Ron and beating him to a pulp. “How could you touch him?”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “He’s not that gross anymore, Harry.”

Seamus nodded from behind Ron. “Yeah, Harry. Learn to forgive a little.”

“I know he’s not gross, you idiots!” Harry lost it, screaming at the two of them, because just looking at their dumb faces pissed him off royally. “Quite the opposite!”

Ron and Seamus shared a look between them, both tightening their jaws and obviously trying not to say anything. Ron looked guilty, which made Harry feel a tiny bit better.

“I know you’ve been obsessed with me, Potter,” Draco said, walking up next to him. “You haven’t stopped eyeing me all year.”

Harry swallowed. “And why do you think that is?”

“Because you hate me.” Draco scoffed and quietly added, “Obviously.” He sounded strangely cold, almost bitter.

It was all too much. Harry gripped his hair in both hands, nearly pulling it out and relishing in the distracting pain. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and assessed the three of them. Draco looked as snotty as ever, even with a scrape on his cheek that had just formed in their tussle. Seamus was grinning, looking between Harry and Draco like he were watching the most entertaining thing in the history of things. Ron, though, wore a strange look; he stared at Harry intently, as though he could see right through him. Again, it was too much.

Before he knew it, Harry found himself stomping down the street without a clue as to where he was going. This time, Draco didn’t call his name.

- - -

“Harry?”

Groaning into his pillow, Harry tightened his blanket around his neck and face, hiding from Ron. This didn’t fool Ron, though, because he sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, causing it to dip.

“I didn’t hear you get back last night. When did you come in?”

“Ahhdntnnow.”

“Harry, I can’t understand you when your mouth is full of pillow.”

Harry jerked his head to the side, and Ron’s blurry face floated beside him. With a grunt, he reached out and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand, thrusting them onto his face. Ah, there was Ron... his worried expression came into focus. “I said, I don’t know.”

“Well, I reckon I went to bed around three, and you were still gone. And since I didn’t hear you come in, that must mean - ”

“I don’t know, okay?” Harry growled. “Will you just sod off?”

Ron’s mouth became a thin line, and his worry evaporated, replaced by a clear mixture of annoyance and anger. “No, I won’t sod off. I’m your mate, and I can tell something’s bothering you. It’s what happened with Malfoy, isn’t it?”

Harry sat up and glared, his cheeks burning; he didn’t want to admit it bothered him. “What do I care who that arsehole shags? He can shag you....” Even as he said it, he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. “He can even shag bloody Neville if he wants to. It’s none of my business. Go ahead and fuck him. It doesn’t bother me one bit.”

“Sure it does.”

“I don’t care about Malfoy.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Harry; I think I deserve that much, at least.” He pinned Harry with a pointed stare. “Don’t I? After everything we’ve been through together, don’t I deserve you being honest with me?”

He was right, and Harry knew it; he knew it deep down, past the mind-debilitating anger. Heaving a sigh, he let his shoulders sag. Looking away, he mumbled under his breath, “I suppose I was a bit miffed you hooked up with Draco.”

Leaning in to force himself into Harry’s line of vision, Ron raised both eyebrows. “‘A bit miffed’ is a fucking understatement.”

Harry pursed his lips and shrugged.

“Please just admit that you fancy him. It would do everyone such a huge favor.”

“But he doesn’t like me back, Ron. He’s going around humping every bloke at Hogwarts, and yet, everytime I try to talk to him or be nice to him, he shoves it in my face.” Harry shook his head, huffing. “How can I like him? He’s such a prick.”

“You have to admit, though, he did get less prickish since coming back.” The corner of Ron’s mouth turned upward into a cheeky smile. “And he is pretty fun to mess with. Hilarious, actually.”

Harry grinned. “I suppose so.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we didn’t actually get to the good part.”

Harry looked up hopefully. “You didn’t... you know... put it in?”

“Oh, I put it in, all right!”

Harry frowned.

“Just didn’t do anything much after that. He made me pull out.”

“What? Draco stopped it?”

“Yeah.” A huge grin broke out over Ron’s face, and his cheeks coloured. “Said I was too big for him. Couldn’t handle me.”

Harry shook his head, unable to suppress his own smile. “You can stop looking so smug about it.”

“Nope. But hey, maybe that’s good news for you, then. He’ll be able to handle you just fine.”

“Hey!” Harry shoved Ron as hard as he could, and Ron fell onto the floor with a thump.

- - -

“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Maybe he hasn’t propositioned you yet for a reason.”

Harry stared at Hermione from across the table at which they sat alone. The library was quiet and full of students studying for exams, so they sat at an isolated table squashed between two shelves of books.

Conversations with Hermione were never straightforward, and Harry felt he had to jump through hoops just to get a straight answer out of her. He couldn’t figure out why girls never just said what they meant. Too much of this, and he wanted to smash his head against the wall. “What reason?”

“Think about it.” She leaned forward. “Malfoy has been known to be more promiscuous than usual this year.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“And he has been going for everyone... anyone but you.”

“Right...” He narrowed his eyes.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Anyone but you, Harry.”

“Right, yeah! I got that.”

“He can’t let himself talk to you because he really wants you.”

Harry snorted. “Is that why, instead of easily chatting me up, he decides to pull my best mate?”

A very serious look crossed Hermione’s face, her eyebrows set together wisely. “Sometimes, when we really want something, it’s exactly the thing we ignore.”

With a heavy sigh, Harry leaned back in his chair and took up his book again. “Whatever.”

- - -

“Ron,” Harry whispered, lying on his side facing Ron’s bed. “Ron!”

Ron turned around and lay back down on his pillow. “Yeah?”

“Was he any good?”

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you. Nothing happened.”

“Well, the little bit that did - was it any good? What was it like?”

“Tight. Very tight.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Fuck.”

“Much tighter than anyone I’ve ever had.”

“Even Lavender?”

“Definitely tighter than Lavender. I didn’t put it in her arse, did I?”

“I don’t know what you did.”

“I put it in her quim, like normal?”

“Oh. Okay.” Harry bit his bottom lip. “So, Malfoy... he was tight, then?”

“Very tight. But he made me stop because it hurt.” Again, he grinned.

“Oh, come off it. But, wait - he made you pull out because it hurt?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“I thought he made you pull out because... because... er.” Harry’s cheeks flushed.

“Because he’s in goopy love with you?”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say!”

Ron snorted. “Was.”

“Shut up.”

“You are so obsessed with him, just admit it!”

“No.”

“If you had just admitted it before, instead of dragging yourself - and me - through this emotional wankery, Draco and I would never have even done that together.”

“What do you mean?”

“I almost didn’t do it, because I suspected you liked him. But since you never said anything outright, well... he was offering sex, you understand.”

“If you suspected it, then why the fuck did you go along with it?”

Ron sighed. “Harry, you were never going to admit you liked him.”

“So what?”

“I’ve already said I’m sorry.”

“I know. Fine.”

“So will you admit it now?”

“No.”

“Merlin’s balls, Harry! It’s not that bad. No one will care if you fancy Malfoy!”

“That’s right, Harry,” called Seamus from his own bed. “No one will give two shites, becasue we’re all bloody sick of it already.”

“Yeah,” Neville said. “It’s pretty obvious you’ve fancied him for ages.”

“And no one hates Malfoy anymore,” Dean added. “Not really. Just a bit.”

“Yeah,” Seamus said. “He’s only a bit of a tosser now.”

“See, Harry?” Ron said. “No one gives a fuck. Mainly, we’re all just sick of watching you be in denial.”

“And we want to sleep,” Seamus added.

Harry heaved a sigh.

“Just go chat him up,” Ron said. “He seemed to want to apologize before you beat him to a pulp.”

“Fine.”

“Thank Merlin!” Neville said, eliciting a round of similar sentiments. “Now everyone, shut it.”

- - -

“Just go over there, and talk to him.”

“But Hermione,” Harry said, “I can’t.”

Draco sat alone three tables away from them, studying a large textbook that Harry guessed was Arithmancy. He stared intently at his notes biting his lip, one hand in his hair.

“Of course you can. No one’s sitting with him.”

“But he looks busy.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Everyone’s busy at the library. That’s besides the point.”

Harry gazed over at Draco again almost longingly. Nerves raced through him, keeping him glued in place. Then Draco looked up, catching his eye, and Harry’s heart skipped. Harry set his jaw and rose from his seat.

Draco held his gaze as Harry walked over.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Potter. Come to start another fight?”

Harry frowned. “I believe it was you who hit me first.”

“You still started it.”

Before he could begin to question why he even bothered trying, Harry took a deep breath. “Want to go somewhere?”

Draco bit his lip, appearing to consider it. After a moment, he nodded, and began to gather his things.

Excitement bloomed in Harry’s chest, and he walked toward the door of the library. Hermione caught his eye and smirked at him on his way out. Once in the corridor, Harry waited, feeling the buzz of anticipation rush through him.

Draco came out a few moments later, and Harry’s face broke into a grin. “My room?”

Draco shrugged, but he looked nervous. “Sure, whatever, Potter.”

They walked to Gryffindor tower in silence, the tension thick between them.

Once through the portrait hole, Harry ignored the stares all around him as people watched him walk up the stairs to his room with Draco Malfoy. If he were honest with himself, it gave him a rush to know they were watching, because he just wanted to tell everyone to shove it. He was going to shag Draco Malfoy.

Neville was in the room studying at his desk, and when he saw them come in, his eyebrows shot up. Without a word, he gathered his things into his bag and got up. Harry smiled at him in thanks on his way out.

The door shut behind Neville, and they were alone.

Harry stared at Draco’s lips, and he moved closer. He heard Draco’s breath hitch, and then Draco whispered, “I hadn’t even considered kissing.” He had no idea what Draco was on about, but he couldn’t care less, because soon their lips were pressing together and Harry gripped Draco by the waist.

The longer they kissed, with tongues and small nips at the lips, the hotter Harry got, his body burning up as he pushed Draco toward his bed. He placed kisses on Draco’s neck, his scent driving Harry even crazier. Draco jerked his hips up, rubbing their groins together through their trousers.

“Take them off,” Draco said, so Harry reached down to undo Draco’s trousers and pull down his pants. Draco did the same to him. “Potter,” Draco moaned as Harry gripped his hard cock in his fist, sliding it up and down. “Don’t stop.”

Harry kissed him again, and they slid their tongues together as Harry jerked Draco off. Soon, Draco was gasping into his mouth as hot come spilled onto Harry’s hand.

Harry was still hard and aching. He searched out Draco’s hole and inserted the tip of his finger. Draco’s eyes were shut, and he was breathing heavily, his head thrown back against Harry’s pillow. It was such a sweet sight.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked, moving his finger even deeper.

Draco nodded furiously. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Harry reached to his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lubrication, generously coating his cock and inserting some into Draco’s arse with his finger. With the lube, his finger moved in and out more easily, and Draco groaned.

“Yes,” he sighed. “More...”

Harry leaned over him, lining his cock up to Draco’s hole, and pushed his hips forward. The tightness was mindblowing, and Harry’s mouth hung open as he entered even deeper. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist.

It was slow at first as Harry got his rhythm, but soon, he was fucking Draco faster, pushing into his arse over and over. Draco’s cock was hard again, bobbing up and down in rhythm with Harry’s thrusts.

Harry felt his balls draw up, tightening against his body, and he thrust one more time before coming, riding out his orgasm with shallow pumps of his hips. Draco jerked his own cock, and soon, he came for the second time.

Harry collapsed on top of him. His heart was still racing and his breath was coming out raggedly, but he couldn’t stop grinning into the crook of Draco’s shoulder.

“How was that?” he asked, carefully pulling out and lying on top of Draco.

“It was just right, Potter,” Draco said, squeezing him in his arms.

Harry smiled and pulled the covers over them both, squeezing right back.