bottom_draco

Title: Everybody Wants Some
Author:

pollyweasley
Prompt: PROMPT #63 by

snowgall
Turns out that being a horcrux stunts your growth. Once the horcrux inside of Harry is destroyed, he has a dramatic growth spurt over the following summer, and returns to Hogwarts taller, broader, and totally ripped. Oh, and with a ramped up sex drive too :) Draco almost can't believe he's the same scrawny git he remembers, and is almost beside himself with lust.

Note that there is art to go with this prompt as well :)

Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: around 6,700
Rating: NC-17
Contains (Highlight to view): * Light spanking; Dirty Talk; Rimming. *
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: Beta’d by

tavia_d. Thank you for all the tips and reviews! You are awesome c:
Summary: Harry comes back to finish his Eighth year at Hogwarts and it seems like the summer after the war has worked miracles on him. He's totally hot, muscular, and sexy - basically every gay boy's (and girl's) dream. Apparently Draco's body agrees, and all he can think every time he sees Potter is how badly he wants some of him.

Read it on AO3

Harry was breathing smoothly while his eyes wandered through the windows of the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Hermione were sleeping with their hands held very tightly into one another, and seeing it was enough to make Harry happy, even though his life was becoming really strange nowadays.

Adapting to all the changes after the war was so difficult...! Even though everything was finally okay, and almost all the Death Eaters where in Azkaban, Harry kept having nightmares and rage problems. Hermione wanted him to go and see a Mind Healer. Even if Harry had told her many times that everything was okay, it really wasn't. She knew him better than he knew himself anyway, so he trusted his friend and decided to see if the Healer could help him.

In the end, he had a case of Post-traumatic Stress disorder combined with... well, hormones. Since the final battle, when Voldemort himself killed the Horcrux inside Harry's body, the boy-who-lived-twice was having a late growth spurt. After the summer, he was closer to Ron's height, and his skinny, pale body had become broader, stronger and tanner. It looked like the Horcrux had made Harry's body so exhausted that it couldn't grow properly, and now he was finally becoming the man he was supposed to have been in the first place.

Thanks to a nice holiday playing Quidditch and swimming, he had a beautiful tanned skin tone, and also, thanks to the same amount of sun he caught, now his nose and shoulders were filled with freckles here and there. Ginny thought it made him cuter. He could always cut his hair off and do something about that damn barely-there-beard, she once said, but he didn't pay much attention to her. He never really had a beard before, and now that it was finally appearing, he wouldn't cut it off. His hair had always been a mess, but Harry found out that having longer hair made it easier to arrange it in some good ways, like now, in a loose ponytail that left some of it falling on his cheeks. The bad part was that he didn't have a fringe anymore, so everyone could see the faded scar. He couldn't care less, especially because everyone knew he was Harry Bloody Potter, so what was the difference in the first place?

Of course his body's appearance wasn't the only thing that changed over the summer. In the middle of it, Harry finally discovered that he wasn't really attracted to his girlfriend at all. "Blame it on the hormones", he thought, but he couldn't, not really. The hormones were supposed to make him very horny around her, but they didn't. Oh, but Harry was horny. Only it was over some nice pretty boys that he saw every now and then when he went swimming. After seeing a nice and particularly hot blond guy resting on his surf board he figured out that he was absolutely gay. Hermione's theory was that he had spent so many years repressing his desires that he never realised he didn't like girls. "Besides," she said, "that obsession with Malfoy wasn't just because he was a prick, was it? Maybe it was just because he had one."

And then the obsession came back again with a vengeance, thank you very much, Hermione.

Now, sitting on the Express' comfortable couch, slowly eating some peppermint sticks, he couldn't stop wondering if Malfoy would be back at Hogwarts for their last year. A lot of his old friends would be coming back now, and others would just end up in other schools or at home with their parents. He heard that Dean Thomas went to a Brazilian school and sent Seamus something called "Milk Candy" or something like that and now the Irish boy was addicted to the damn thing and couldn't stop ordering it from the other side of the world. Harry finished his sweet, and when he was about to have another stick the train stopped. He woke up his friends, and after a few minutes they got off the train. His question about Malfoy's decision was answered very quickly, actually. As soon as their feet touched the Scottish ground, he saw Malfoy's blond hair coming out from the other wagon door. The Slytherin lifted his head, and his eyes went straight to Harry's. The older boy opened his mouth as if he was surprised, and then as fast as he had appeared, he was gone.

∞

Harry Potter was fucking hot. How could it even be? Last time he checked, he was the same skinny twat Draco had known for almost seven years, and now... How the bloody hell had he gotten so tall? And those shoulders? How?! As he walked to the carriages, Draco kept ranting to himself about how life was so unfair. He was still taller than Potter, he could see that, but he was, too, still skinny, with narrow shoulders and barely any hair on his body. And Harry fucking Potter had a fucking beard! At age eighteen! Draco was so pissed he nearly flew backwards when some type of Dragon-Horse-of-Death approached him with curious dark eyes. The Slytherin was staring at it with huge, round grey eyes, stuck in place pleading silently, "Please don't eat me, I barely have any meat. Eat Potter, he's fat now," even though he knew "fat" wasn't the right word for the way Potter was looking now.

"Don't be scared. They're very sweet creatures, Thestrals," said a dreamy voice behind him, and he could finally move. Loony Lovegood was there, looking at the dragon-horse with tender eyes.

"Were they always here?" he asked, and she just nodded.

"You can only see them if you have seen death before," Luna said, and Draco's mouth opened a little, before he licked his dry lips and took a step back. "I'm sorry about what you must have seen at the Manor," she said, getting in the open carriage and waiting for him to sit beside her. Just that fast his thoughts about Potter died, and a lot of other things took their place in his head. Not only had he seen death at the Manor, but he had seen his friend die as well. He had seen more deaths than he’d ever wanted.

"I'm sorry you had to be locked there. I really am," he said as he sat at Luna's side, and she only smiled sweetly.

"I know, Draco. I knew you didn't want to hurt anyone. I saw how hard it was for you to pretend to be bad," she said, and he couldn't help the snort.

"I'm not a Hufflepuff," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. If he noticed the use of his first name, he didn't show it at all.

"I never said you weren't arrogant, or cunning, or a total arsehole. I just said you weren't bad," she replied as softly as before, but her smile was not even close to the sweetness of her voice. "I'm not a Hufflepuff, you know?" and he couldn't help the tiniest smile that was drawn on his lips.

The memories of what had happened in the Manor were still fresh in his mind, and so was the guilt. He could hide it perfectly from everyone else, but he found out that he couldn’t do the same with Luna. She had been there, locked up in a cold, humid enclosure, simply because she was Xenophilius' daughter, and he had been on the other side, holding up the wand, simply because he was Lucius' son. They were just kids, trapped in the middle of a war that wasn’t theirs. Still, she had been there, locked, and he had been the one who trapped her. The guilt was like a huge vermin eating him alive, and even after Harry Bloody Potter spoke to the Wizengamot about how he had given his wand to him, the wand with which he had defeated Voldemort, and how his mother had saved his life in the Forest, he couldn’t forget all the other awful things he had done.

Draco didn’t know if it was a good idea to have come back. Even though the sleeve of his robes was hiding his arm, he could almost feel the weight of the Mark on his skin, black and poisonous, even though the faded tattoo wasn’t all that visible anymore. It reminded him constantly how he had spent two years in fear for his family's safety, how he had been so terribly afraid about what would happen to his mother. Of how Potter helped him and his mother, but since he had nothing to say about Lucius - and Draco suspected that even if he did, he wouldn't say - his father was condemned to three years in Azkaban and five years of parole afterwards. Compared to the others, it was a very light punishment, but his family name was in such a delicate state that he was doing everything to set things straight, and that meant coming back to Hogwarts.

And coming back to Hogwarts was triggering so many other feelings of guilt. He couldn’t stop thinking he was the reason why Crabbe was dead, and even though his last words with his friend hadn’t been friendly at all, he didn’t hate him. He hadn’t cast the spell that killed him, but still, he had been his friend. It had been Draco’s job to look after him, even though Crabbe kept saying that the Malfoys were finished. Yes, maybe they were. Maybe the family’s name was destroyed by now, but the Malfoy Heir was still trying his best to keep his family name up. Ironically, the one who had helped him with that had been Potter.

Potter, who was now hot as fuck. He sighed as the carriages started moving towards the castle, looking at the girl at his side. Luna didn’t look the same as he remembered. She smelled like fresh daisies, and even though her hair was still those messy beautiful curls, Luna had grown into a very beautiful woman. He thought that if he hadn’t been gay, he would for sure have tried to ask her out. But the only thing he wanted now was her forgiveness.

“I can only imagine how it was... being there,” he said tentatively, trying to say what he meant, but he was failing to form the words properly. “I tried to do everything to make it less... bad”

“I know, Draco, really,” Luna smiled, and he blinked as she said his name so naturally. “You looked after me even though you didn’t need to. And after Harry came with Ron and Hermione you didn’t tell them it was him...”

“I didn’t know- ”

“Draco, you knew. Stop trying to make out like you were an evil git all the time. Harry told me. He told me how you looked in his eyes and then lied,” she said simply, catching from her bag a copy of The Quibbler and starting to read it. “And then he told me about how you acted so humble at the Trial...”

“How many things has he told you, exactly?” Draco asked, looking surprised. Not only because Luna knew all those things, but because Potter had thought of those moments as if they were important enough to share. He touched his leg, feeling the wand in his pocket, the wand Potter had retrieved for him at the end of the Trial.

“This is yours, Malfoy,” he had said, and then smiled. Draco couldn’t help but bow his head a bit and say, “Thank you.” But he didn’t think it was humble, really. He just wanted to act with respect for Potter. The man had helped him out of Azkaban, saved his life right after Crabbe tried to kill him. Of course Draco had tried to spare his life too, but as far as Potter knew, it was because he wanted the Dark Lord to kill him himself.

Draco knew better, of course.

“Harry is one of my best friends. He talks to me a lot.” Luna shrugged, and then glanced at him with a smile. “Stop feeling guilty about what happened at the Manor. I’m glad you weren't arrested. It was your fault as much as it was mine,” she said, looking so deep in his eyes that he felt naked.

“It wasn’t your fault. You were a victim,” he said, and then she absently smiled, touching his cold hand with her warm, small one.

“Exactly,” then she released his hand, going back to her reading.

Draco sat quietly this time. He could see the castle closer now, and looked around, trying to see Pansy. She was going out with some Ravenclaw guy - whose name Draco had never really wanted to know - and had disappeared halfway through the trip. Now, he really wanted to be with her, because he had a lot to think about, and he could think better when he was rambling. He couldn’t do this to Luna. Of course she didn’t hate him, as he could see, but still she didn’t deserve a “Babbling diva” around her, as Pansy liked to call him. So he started to think quietly to himself. He didn’t consider himself a victim. Some of those things he really enjoyed, like the power he thought he had. It was good to be in control, to be tested, to feel as he was responsible for important things, as his parents had always trained him to be. On the other hand, those were the same things he hated. He could never enjoy his life and be a child, so filled with responsibilities too high for his young age, and at 16... Everything was blurry, his life passed before his eyes as a faded memory, and the only things he had wanted all year long was not being in control, not having that responsibility.

Even now he had two sides of him: the one who wanted control and the one who didn’t, and they both were fighting to surface.

He forgot about his wanderings as soon as he entered the Castle again. It was fixed, and almost exactly as he remembered, except for a few light spots on the walls where they had been rebuilt. He breathed heavily, thinking about why it had needed to be rebuilt. Once again, it was his fault. His fault for calling the Death Eaters inside the school, letting them destroy all his childhood memories... He turned his hands into fists and walked towards the Great Hall, barely noticing that Luna was still at his side.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Nothing will hurt you anymore,” and with a light touch on his arm, she disappeared through the big doors.

Draco sighed, walking through the same doors and then to the Slytherin table. He saw Pansy waving her arms so he could sit at her side, and walked to her, sitting on her left between her and Zabini. He looked around, inwardly wishing Goyle was there too. He had gone to Durmstrang, possibly afraid of what the other students would do to him as soon as he came back to Hogwarts, and he had already finished his studies. Draco couldn’t blame him. Deep inside he was afraid it would happen to him, too. But somehow, somewhere in the corner of his mind, he kept thinking it wouldn’t happen. He kept thinking he wouldn’t let it happen. When had he begun to believe in the Boy-Who-Lived like everyone else did?

'Maybe after he saved your life. Twice.' a voice said in his head, and then he stopped, looking at the Gryffindor table and losing his breath. Harry Potter was there, between his friends, laughing and rearranging his messy hair into a ponytail. Draco could see his white teeth as he smiled and talked to Weasley, and how big his hands were as he passed them through his black hair and then rested them both on the top of the table. Draco felt an urge to touch his hair, take off the elastic band that was holding the strands, and play his fingers through those locks, even though he possibly would kill himself before doing it.

“Draco, you’re drooling,” he heard Pansy’s voice, then looked at her, startled.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. I see not even the war or the time away from Hogwarts could make you forget your crush on P—”

“Can you shut up already?” he clenched his hand on her arm, shaking her a bit as Pansy started to laugh in his face. “I can’t help it, okay?”

“No one can!” Pansy said, looking at the other table. “I mean, look how hot he is. No one could ever imagine that skinny git could be so sexy at eighteen, right? No one can take their eyes off of him.”

And it was true. As Draco looked around one more time, almost all the girls at the Gryffindor table were looking at the Saviour, and at least half of the other houses’ girls were looking directly at Potter too, pointing and whispering to their friends. He could see that some boys were trying to avoid looking, and failing, just like he had been a couple of minutes ago.

“He's changed a great deal, don’t you think?” she asked, and then Draco sighed. He used to tell Pansy everything, but he had never really told her about his crush on Harry Potter when they were in school. After the war and after the Trial, he felt more confident, and as Pansy was still angry with the results of the war, he couldn’t help but try to make her see why it was better this way. And it was then he told her about his crush. She didn’t mock him or scream at him, but simply said she would have understood if he had told her before. And now it didn’t feel strange to talk to her about everything.

“No. Not that much,” Draco said, looking at the other table again. “His hands are the same. His hair. His eyes...”

“How can you possibly see his eyes from this distance?” Pansy asked, giggling.

“I can’t. But I saw them when we arrived. Big, bright and green, all the same.” He shrugged, and then McGonagall was standing in her place at the table, looking at them with tenderness in her eyes. She made a speech about how wonderful it was to see Hogwarts reopening, the new and old faces, and especially...

“I’d like to welcome the heroes of our school. You are all back this year to finish your education, regain the knowledge lost in the rage of war and be fully prepared for the grown up world out there. We hope the only battles you’ll have to fight in the future will be ones over jobs and raising a family. Now let’s start with the Sorting Ceremony so we can begin our feast!”

Everyone clapped, and the first years were sorted. The Slytherin table only contained half their normal number of students, but the few who were sorted into their house were welcomed as if nothing had happened. Draco could see that some students from the other houses had nasty faces and definitely wanted to mock those students, but there stood Potter, Granger and Weasley, looking around, as if daring people to do it. And Potter... Good Merlin, as if it wasn’t enough that he was the one to slay the Dark Lord. He was so totally handsome, and strong, and big and... It was nearly impossible to do anything wrong when he was looking.

Which meant that Draco just had to do all sorts of wrong things around him.

It was impossible to resist. Since he had seen Harry Potter for the first time, something inside his soul was telling him that he constantly needed to let Potter know that he wasn’t the perfect goody-goody he wanted to show everybody else. The only thing Draco really wanted was to reveal the true face of the Boy Who Lived, and maybe get to know him a little bit. It was a bittersweet sensation, actually. He wanted to mock and hurt him to know him better, because he knew that he was the only one who would take Potter off his pedestal and drag him to the ground. He only wanted to make him a little bit more... human. Except he didn’t do it the way he intended.

∞

It took months until they finally talked to each other. Even though neither of them were avoiding the other, there were so many things to handle now, the first year after the war. Everybody wanted to know how it was to defeat You-Know-Who, also how it was to live in the same house as him. Both boys were busy with studies and training – since Malfoy and Potter were, once again, Quidditch captains. The only times they could actually see each other were when they were taking Potions, studying Herbology, Magical Creatures, and surprisingly, Magical Theory. As he had gathered, Harry Potter wanted to be a Curse Breaker, regardless of what the rest of the world thought he should be, so he needed the course. It was his first time taking it, and Draco knew it was hard, so he thought that maybe the subject would be enough to make him talk to Potter or something... If Granger wasn't taking it, too. So it was like this for a month: Draco wanting to meet/talk/hex/anything Potter, and the whole school keeping them apart.

And it got worse, because now the Quidditch matches were coming closer and Draco couldn’t fucking concentrate on anything, especially after the so-fucking-real dreams he had been having for the past few days. It was becoming normal to wake up panting, all sweaty and hard. He avoided wanking as much as possible, but the dreams were becoming worse and worse with each passing week. And it didn’t help that every time he had to sit close to Potter – like in Magical Theory, for example – the fucking git had to smell so damn good. It was something fresh, like recently cut grass, and cloth and something very similar to chocolate. He couldn’t stop thinking that chocolate was one of the things he had smelled in potions when Slughorn had shown them Amortentia - and so was recently cut grass. He remembered the smells very well, just as he was smelling them now: apple tart, his mum’s perfume, recently cut grass and chocolate. He wondered what Amortentia smelled like to Potter. In a dark corner of his mind, he wished it smelled like him.

Harry wasn’t handling his new feelings very well either. He kept thinking that taking Magical Theory was one of the worst things he had ever done in his entire life, living with the Dursleys included. First: It was hellishly hard. Second: It had Hermione – and only Hermione in it, which meant that he couldn’t keep talking shite with Ron. Third: It had Malfoy. And Harry was forced to sit at his side every damn time. The teacher – a nice looking witch with very short jet-black hair and incredible blue eyes who insisted on being called Madame Starlight instead of Professor Starlight – hated seeing the students sitting with their own houses, and so they were mixed together. And she insisted the taller students should sit in the back of the room, and the smaller ones in the front. If he had been the same height as before, he would have been right next to Hermione, in the middle, but now he was right next to Draco Bloody Malfoy. And the git smelled so damn good! Besides, he had this habit of talking to himself all the time, as if trying to never forget all the subjects he studied. Still, it was incredibly hard not to look at him. Hermione had said that he had changed over the summer – yes, indeed he did – but Malfoy had changed as well. Not that he had stopped being pointy and sneering and that insufferable git he had always been, but he had this charm now that he didn’t have then. Or maybe he had, but Harry had been unable to see it. The fact was, every time Malfoy looked up and blinked his eyes in Harry’s direction, it gave him chills all over his body. Every time he talked in that low and controlled tone of voice, asking Madame Starlight something, Harry would lose his concentration automatically. Something in the way he moved his hands and his fingers was making Harry feel the urge to touch, to hold, to caress, even though he didn’t know why.

Maybe he was really becoming insane, after all.

Well, at least it didn’t seem like he was the only one. He could see a lot of other students were staring at him during classes and meals, but the only gaze he was searching for was usually upon him as well. It was enough to make him think all night about Malfoy’s pale complexion, or his stunning grey eyes, or the way he licked his pink lips, or how he worked with his slender, long fingers on his quills and parchment. All of this while looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Hermione and Ron noticed it, of course, but they said nothing. Hermione had that “I knew it” look every time she saw Harry staring at Malfoy, and would poke him in his ribs and giggle, making him blush like a maiden every damn time.

Ron wasn’t that subtle, and one day he just grabbed Harry by the hand and said, “Mate, if you won’t stop eye-fucking with the ferret, you may as well fuck him for real, you know?”

It was definitely eye-fucking, Draco knew. About a week before the official interhouse game of Quidditch, they stopped pretending they were not staring at each other. They would have staring contests every meal, and in the halls, and sometimes even during classes. Then one day, Potter smiled at him. A small, one-sided smile that gave Draco chills from his head down to his toes. He couldn’t stop wanting to pass his hands through Potter’s long hair, his square jawline, to take off his glasses and stare into those deep emeralds he had for irises. It was a truce, he knew, and somehow he was starting to wish he could talk to him for hours, to wish he could just let Harry hold him in his strong arms and embrace him into slumber.

After the game's first day, Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied with the same score, beating both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. It looked like the captains were even more competitive - almost aggressive - looking forward to fighting each other just as all the other students were looking forward to seeing Harry and Draco beat each other at the game. That’s where Draco found his opportunity to drag Potter down. The first time they stared at each other, Potter gave him that smile full of intentions. Draco looked down a bit, as the bludgers flew between them, then looked back at Potter, licked his lips and winked one eye.

It almost made Potter fall. The Snitch and the Quaffle were in the air, and the game began. Throughout the game, Draco was focused only on ruining Potter’s focus, and it was working. He was trying to catch the Snitch too, so it was kind of a busy thing to do at the same time. But seeing how Potter seemed thrown off from all the smiles and lip licking and sexy looks Draco was giving him, the blond thought that maybe it was going to be easy.

It wasn’t. Harry still flew like an eagle and had really fast eyes despite his bad eyesight. And even with all the teasing, he was able to almost catch the Snitch. Almost. They were side by side, arms outstretched, panting breathes, both of them trying to catch it, when Draco blurted out of nowhere “Damn, Potter... You’re so hot right now...” with the sexiest voice he could manage, and the raven-haired boy almost slipped from his broom, giving him space so Draco could catch the small golden ball. He laughed, looking at Potter from above and muttering “Want some?” as the Slytherin students went crazy.

He didn’t expect the aftermath, though. The boys' changing room was crowded with Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same place, screaming and beaming. Some were making jokes, others replying, but there were no fights or punches. Despite losing, the Gryffindorks were too honourable to scream at the rival team. Draco waited till the stalls were half empty before taking off his clothes, grabbing a towel and going for a shower. He smiled as the hot water touched his tired skin. The noises were gradually fading as his teammates and the Gryffindor players finished their baths and changed back, returning to the castle. Draco was so happy he was starting to think about the possibility of singing in the shower, but his thoughts stopped at once as he felt hands on his shoulders and brute force turning him and pressing him against the wall.

“Yes, I want some.”

Draco wanted to scream; he wanted to say it was abuse, that he would call the teachers to come knock some sense into Potter’s head. But before he could manage any words, he noticed how very naked Potter was and how fucking ripped he was now. Those shoulders should’ve been forbidden long ago, and those arms, and his abdomen, and legs and holy balls of Merlin that beautiful, already-hard cock. It was impossible not to get hard too.

“Then come and get it,” Draco said, trying to inject some teasing into his voice, but he was so hoarse and weak that it sounded more like a plea.

Potter didn’t waste any time. Suddenly his mouth was on Draco’s, and the blond couldn’t help the moan that came out of his throat as Potter’s hot body touched his. His big, strong, and calloused hands held him firmly by his hips, making Draco hug him around his neck to remain steady. Potter’s kiss was as messy and demanding as himself, and it made Draco even harder, wishing he could’ve been having this ever since he had discovered he had a crush on the Boy Who Lived. Potter’s hands slipped around and grabbed his arse, making Draco stop the kiss and moan even louder against Harry’s mouth, their cocks rubbing against each other and giving him more pleasure than it should. His hands found their way through Potter’s wet hair and grabbed a handful of it as Harry started kissing and sucking on his neck. Draco knew it would leave a mark, but he couldn’t care less.

“You know how much I've been wanting to do this...?” Potter asked against his skin, and Draco could only manage a weak, moaned “no” before the Gryffindor continued, “Every fucking day since I saw you on the train.” He rubbed his cock against Draco’s even faster, his fingers grabbing his arse and opening his cheeks, pressing the point of his fingers to his cleft. “I wanked thinking about it everyday... Everyday thinking about your mouth around my cock... Thinking about my hands against your skin, about pounding you reckless against a wall. Do you want it too, Draco? Do you want my cock deep in your arse as much as I want to fuck you?”

“Oh my Goddess... Yesss...” Draco moaned, showing off his neck so Harry could mark him and suck on him even more. “I want your cock... I want it...”

“You’ll have it,” Harry said, but before Draco could reach his objective, Potter turned him against the wall, pulling his hips and bending him a little so his arse was a little up and his legs spread. “As soon as I have what I want.” the younger man concluded, kneeling behind Draco and opening his cheeks again, not losing any time before licking that pulsing entrance, ripping a loud scream out of Draco’s throat.

“Yes! Oh... Yes...! OhmygodPotter! More, more!” it was humiliating, but Draco couldn’t help his mouth, or his shaking body. He couldn’t help that Potter’s tongue was amazing, he couldn’t help that Potter was fucking him open with his tongue, wetting him and making him want to come only from this. Potter’s hands were opening him with brute force, marking his pale skin, making his butt cheeks all red, but it didn’t matter, especially because the pleasure was beyond any pain he might be having – because the only thing he could feel right now was deep, strong, mind-blowing pleasure.

“Gods... You are such a whore,” Potter’s voice said before smacking his but firmly and straight with his open hand, making Draco scream again, his hole pulsing faster, waiting to be filled. And then came another spank, and another, and another, and all Draco could do was moan and ask for more.

“Fuck me already... Stop playing...” the blond ordered, red cheeks – both face and butt – damp hair and closed eyes. “Come on...”

He heard a soft “pop” then of something opening and the smell of his conditioner, and couldn’t help his smile before moaning when Harry’s fingers found his hole, half loosened by his tongue, and filled him up to Harry’s knuckles. Two fingers were all the way inside him, and he held himself as firmly as he could on the wet wall, resting his forehead on his forearms as Harry finger-fucked him even looser.

“It’s beautiful... How you suck me all the way in...” Potter’s voice was hoarse and low, and his fingers were now going faster. One of his hands was holding Draco by his waist and slipped up to pinch one of his nipples, making him moan even more, pre-come falling from the tip of his penis to the ground and washing away with the water. “It will be amazing when I fuck you up to my balls...”

“Then fuck me already!” Draco panted, now fucking himself on Harry’s fingers, his legs wide apart. “Come on, Potter! Now! Put your fucking cock in me right now!”

“Such a demanding little slut you are...” Harry said as he withdrew his fingers from Draco’s stretched hole. Another pop, another rush of the conditioner smell, and few seconds later, Draco was being manhandled again, his face now right in front of Potter’s. His long hair was falling to the sides of his face, and there was so much lust in those green eyes that Draco felt like begging. Before he could actually do it, Potter’s hands grabbed him from behind his thighs and pulled him up, forcing Draco to straddle him and grab his waist with his legs to find balance. He was soon pressed between the wall and Harry’s body, hugging him around his neck and waist, the heels of his feet pressing into the curve above Potter’s arse. “I’m going to fuck you so nice... so deep right now...”

“Do it alrea--OHGODSPOTTER!” Draco screamed as Harry’s prick pushed inside him in one long thrust, all the way down to his balls, and his head fell to the wall behind him. It ached, and burned, and was so bloody glorious...! He felt totally stretched around Potter’s thick cock, and also felt slippery and aching for more.

“Like this...?” Potter hissed close to his ear, his breath hot near Draco’s neck. Harry then got almost all the way out, before thrusting again, and again, and again, strong and fast from the beginning, his hands clenched around Draco’s thighs with a mighty strength, pushing and pulling the blond as his body forced him over and over against the wet and cold wall. The hot water was still falling over them, and all Draco could do was moan and scream in delightful pleasure, his eyes closed, his entire body asking for more and more, his cock red and rock-hard, pleading for attention, which Draco was not even close to giving. Besides, Potter was fucking him senseless, the head of his prick pounding on Malfoy’s prostate over and over, sometimes right on the spot, other times just close to it. It was enough to make the Slytherin forget how to think, how to breathe, how to do anything more than moan Potter’s name and scream for more, his nails digging into Potter’s back, leaving red, sore marks on the bronze skin.

“Yes... Oh, Merlin... Yes, Harry...! More... Harder... Harder... Oh--!” Draco opened his eyes to see Potter looking at him like he was seeing the most beautiful thing in the world, and it made Draco’s cock pulse with a rush of blood.

“Say it again... Say my name again...” Potter managed to say, his voice so low it was difficult to understand, but Draco could do nothing but obey.

“Harry... Fuck me... Fuck me, harder... Please, Harry... Make me come while I’m around your cock... Make me come...” He asked over again, feeling the hot, clutching sensation above his cock, telling him he was about to reach his orgasm. “Come on, come on, faster fasterfasterohmygodI’mgonnac— Oh FUCK!” Draco screamed even louder, his body turning rigid as he came all over his stomach, his muscles clenching around Harry’s cock, milking him to his orgasm as well.

“Oh, God... Fuck, Draco! Aaaah! Yes, yesss... Ask me... Ask me to come...” Harry hissed, his arms holding Draco too tight, too strong.

“Come inside me... Now, Potter... Come inside me...!” Draco said, his eyes watery from his orgasm, and he closed his eyes, a prideful smile on his face as Harry screamed his name, coming hot and strong inside him.

A couple of minutes passed before Harry withdrew his cock from Draco’s arse, his come slipping through the blond’s hole down his thighs as Harry put him on the ground, not taking his hands off him until he was sure Draco was steady enough. Both of them smiled, their breaths still fast, but pure satisfaction in their eyes.

They washed in silence, still smiling, but with nothing left to say, not today, at least. It was so fast, so strong at once, that they needed time to compose themselves before facing the consequences of their actions – both of them knew, though, that there would be marvellous consequences.

When they got out the stall, Harry was startled by Draco’s scream, and looked around to see a flushed Ginny already in her school robes, looking at them as if there was nothing wrong with the fact that she was in the boys' locker room.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” she said, swallowing thickly, looking at both of them with lustful eyes. “Do it again.”

∞

Truth was, in the span of a week, all of Hogwarts knew about their affair. The girls seemed quite disappointed, the boys seemed deeply jealous, and Draco wore a disdainful smile 24 hours a day. It wasn’t official, they never said “boyfriends”, but it didn’t seem like they needed to. Potter – no, Harry now – was a thoughtful lover. He had no shame in kissing him in front of anyone, or hugging, or touching his hand even when Draco clearly said “don’t”. Harry just smiled and kissed him again, a lot of times. Harry messed with his hair, his robes, everything, and even though Draco never stopped teasing him, or calling him names, punching his arms, slapping the back of his neck, he couldn’t help the fact that he was happy. After their encounter in the locker room shower, it was incredibly easy to let things go their way. There was no deep talk: both of them knew how life was before and after the war, and even though they knew they needed to talk about it someday, it wasn’t strictly necessary. The things that were to be forgiven were already forgiven. The things they needed to understand about each other, they already knew about themselves.

Of course they knew they would still fight and have disagreements – they were Potter and Malfoy after all – but it wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. The most important thing was that Harry finally got the guy he had been craving since the beginning of the term – who maybe he had even had a crush on since sixth year or something. And Draco had had his crush since forever – who fortunately was also the hottest guy at Hogwarts.

Yeah. It was going to be a very nice year.

fin