Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge. Contains sexual content and adult language.

The biggest problem with having grown up exclusively amongst Muggles was that even now Harry still tended to forget about certain basic aspects of the wizarding world that most of his friends had been raised instinctively knowing.

Like that there was no such thing as a private moment in front of the fireplace when your house was hooked up to the Floo network, just for example.

The climate charms in Harry's house had been playing up again (he really needed to get Hermione in to look at the place one of these days), and so Harry had eventually retreated from the freezing cold of his bedroom to park himself for the night on the couch in front of the fire. Of course, even finally being warm and comfortable, he'd still been unable to drop straight off to sleep. As frequently occurred whenever he had a spare moment to himself (as if he were still a teenager), his mind had insisted on wandering to more pleasant things than just sleeping, and one thing had ultimately led to another. Harry ended up with his boxers and the blankets all pushed down below his knees and his cock in his hand, for the first time in days able to leisurely stroke himself without having to worry about freezing his bits off if he took too long with it.

Harry had just wanted a nice quiet wank to satiate himself so he could drift off to sleep. He didn't figure on making himself into an unwilling exhibitionist in the process.

But the fire unexpectedly turned green and a head appeared in it. Harry was too slow to yelp and dive clumsily off the couch, half caught up in his bunched underwear, to possibly shield the interloper from seeing precisely what he'd been doing.

Damn, and it could have been anyone, too. While it was true that most of his friends were unlikely to Floo call at a quarter to midnight under normal circumstances, a late night emergency was hardly out of the question, especially given that Ron worked with experimental explosive items. Or it could have easily been someone from the office calling him back in, which would be a hundred times worse; the last thing Harry wanted was to hand Robards any kind of ammunition to be used against him.

"Someone should have explained to you that leaping about with your dick hanging out is dangerous," Draco's voice called out from the fireplace. "You might break something important, and that would be a damned shame."

Harry sighed in relief. Draco. Well that was all right, then. It was nothing he hadn't seen before.

Harry hiked his pants up, then hoisted himself back onto the couch so he could see his visitor, and vice versa. "Jesus, Draco, you pretty much gave me a heart attack. You could've been Hermione or – or Mrs Weasley or someone!"

"Yes, I could see why you wouldn't want that old biddy to see you jerking yourself." From low in the fire where his face was floating, Draco looked him over appreciatively, his gaze settling on Harry's lap. "Still, funny how that doesn't seem to have dimmed your enthusiasm any."

Harry glanced down to see the very obvious tenting effect he was having on his boxers. "Oh shut up," he muttered. "It doesn't just go down on command, all right? It has a mind of its own."

Draco smirked, "I don't know about that. I think there's at least one order that it's likely to obey quickly enough, with just a little encouragement from the right person. Would you like me to come over and test the theory?"

Harry envisioned Draco with his hand wrapped around Harry's cock and his lips pressed close to Harry's neck, his breath hot against Harry's ear, commanding him to, "Come, Harry." The thought did nothing to diminish Harry's erection.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to sound casual, "all right. If you like. I know how you feel about letting a perfectly good experiment to go to waste, after all."

Draco disappeared from view, then a moment later the flames flared green again and Draco fully stepped through into Harry's sitting room.

As much as Harry liked Draco's face, he really did prefer to be able to look at his body as well. Especially when it also meant that if Draco just took a few steps forward, Harry would be able to touch that body as well.

When Draco did move towards him, though, he didn't join Harry on the couch, instead dropping to his knees in front of Harry.

"It's such a shame you covered up," Draco said, reaching for the waistband of Harry's pants. "I was enjoying the view."

Harry glanced nervously at the fireplace. "Wait, wait," he said. "C'mon, I've learned my lesson here. We should move this upstairs just in case someone else pops their head in, don't you think?"

Draco shook his head and urged Harry's hips up so he could work Harry's only item of clothing completely free. "Let them see."

Draco pushed Harry's legs apart so he could lean between them and duck his head down, swirling his tongue around the head of Harry's cock. All contemplation of stopping Draco so that they could relocate quickly flew out of Harry's mind, replaced by thoughts of 'oh, yes, suck harder, right there'.

The eventual command to come was non-verbal (Draco's mouth was rather too busy for talking), but Harry nonetheless sensed Draco's intention as clearly as if it were spoken and complied instantaneously.

"Looks like I was right," Draco crowed afterwards. "In the hands of the right instructor, apparently even the most wayward parts of you can be trained into submission after all. What do you say we move on to your hair next?"

~FIN~