When Harry first stepped into the flat, he couldn't quite suppress a grin.

"Sorry," Draco said, "it's a bit of a mess."

"It's exactly like I pictured it would be."

And it was. Harry moved into the sitting room – books by the pile, on every spare inch of available space. Huge, glossy photography books with names like Light and Shadow; old, thick, dusty tomes like A Survey of Wizarding Literature; heaps of dog-eared paperbacks with titles like Death at Pleasantbrook and Thin Paper Houses. The decor was refined yet homey with lots of dark oak and glass; the hearth was burning at a pleasant roar, and the whole flat smelled like tea and cigarettes.

"Normally Dolly would be out offering something to drink," Draco said, "but she doesn't do so well around new people. She's probably hiding under her bed… what's with the look?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Nothing. I like it. It's very you."

"I'd have a hard time making it anything else," Draco said, and Harry crossed the room, tangled his fingers in Draco's hair, and kissed him, long and lingering. He could feel Draco smile against his mouth. When they broke apart, he muttered, "What was that for?"

"Nothing, really," Harry admitted. "I just like that I can kiss you whenever I want now."

Draco laughed and it was such a wonderful sound that Harry tried to swallow it with another kiss, arms snaking around his waist. He was in love with the feeling of Draco's body pressed into his, drunk off the scent of him.

"If this is ephemera," Draco whispered onto Harry's mouth, "then it will have been worth every loss and terror that made it possible."

"Ephemera? It's not ephemera." Harry pulled at Draco's lower lip lightly with his teeth, which drew a delicious shudder from him. "It's a beginning. I'm here forever, for as long as you'll have me."

Draco groaned. It was a small noise, a plaintive one, and Harry had never heard anything so gorgeous in his life.

"That I could preserve your words in amber," Draco said breathlessly, his fingertips tracing patterns on Harry's chest, "wear them around my neck – oh, Merlin—!"

Harry had ducked his head to bite lightly on one of the long lines of Draco's throat, and the arcing and twisting of his body in response sent electricity down Harry's spine.

"I knew I liked listening to you talk," Harry muttered, "but I don't think I quite realized how much. God, keep going."

Draco whined desperately. "I feel like I'm coming alive again," he said, his voice taut and trembling. "Like every kiss warms my blood, like every touch jolts my heart and sets it beating. It's been so long – so long…"

Harry moaned and pushed his hips forward. His arousal was straining painfully against the front of his trousers. Harry couldn't remember a time since before the War that he was this turned-on, this white-hot and electric with want.

"My body's aching for you," Draco gasped, his head falling back. He was grinding his hips back against Harry's, just as desperate. "I've never needed anything so badly – I feel like I'll come undone without the heat of your mouth, the touch of your hands – Merlin, without your cock—"

Harry felt a tremor that started in his hindbrain and went straight down to his pelvis. Before he had fully processed the sentence, he was grabbing Draco by both arms and pushing him into the nearby wall, working his jumper over his head.

He kissed hot, breathy trails onto the pale skin of Draco's now exposed chest and savored every jerk and moan it elicited. Draco's hands were tangling in his hair, his heart thumping under Harry's lips.

"Bedroom?" Harry asked into the skin of his shoulder.

"Second door," Draco stammered, and it took all of Harry's willpower not to physically pick him up and carry him inside.

They landed on a soft, neatly-made, four poster bed and Harry went right back to kissing down his stomach. He was so desperate that his fingers could barely move. Draco lifted his hips in an effort to help Harry in peeling away his trousers.

Harry stared down at Draco, now laid bare. He studied the long expanse of pale flesh, all along the thin limbs and tousled blond hair and felt absolutely ravenous.

"Jesus," Harry said. "A mind like yours should not be allowed to be in this sort of package."

"There's no need to flatter me," Draco told him, grinning. "You've already won me over."

Harry laughed. Draco sat up and slipped his fingers under the hem of Harry's shirt, pulling it over his head. Once it had been discarded, Draco made a sound like a purr that Harry decided he wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life. He spread his hands across Harry's chest and looked up at him with sin in his smile.

"There's far too much I want to do to you," Harry muttered, snaking a hand through his hair, "and not nearly enough time to do it."

"Let me help you overcome your indecision," he whispered in reply, pushing down Harry's trousers – or at least, enough to free his flushed, hardened cock. Harry hissed low in relief – and then again, more loudly, when he felt Draco's hot, wet, open mouth on the side of the shaft.

"Christ—!" Harry had to grab the foot of the bed to keep himself from falling over. His hips jerked reactively against Draco's lips, and he obligingly took the glans into his mouth, all lips and tongue and— "Oh, God, yes, Draco—!"

He wished for a moment that he had Draco's uncanny ability to speak in poetry, to tell him how incredible his mouth felt on Harry's cock, to beg him to do more and deeper and faster, but Harry's mind could only focus on the sensation; everything else was background noise. Draco was by then moving in earnest, one hand braced on his stomach and the other wrapped securely around the base.

He was bobbing, humming, making delicious, obscene little noises with each movement. Every now and then his eyes would lift and lock on Harry's, and Harry would shiver and tangle his hand in the sweat-streaked, silver blond hair.

It was all mounting far too quickly, and Harry only just had the presence of mind to use the hand knotted in Draco's hair to give him a sharp pull back.

Draco stared up at him, his lower lip shiny with precome and his face flushed.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Just the opposite," Harry panted. He did his best to catch up with his breath smiled apologetically down at Draco, who seemed, to Harry's eye, quite pleased with himself.

He sat up and promptly fell backward onto the bedspread, limbs splayed, neck and chest streaked with sweat, looking like something from a painting. After everything, the sight of it alone was nearly enough to do Harry in.

"God," Harry said, falling forward and pulling his fingertips down Draco's thighs. "I have to have you – every damn part of you."

"I'm already yours," Draco returned, his voice so low and sensual that Harry shivered.

He leaned down and they fell into an open-mouthed kiss. Harry's hand moved down Draco's chest, his stomach, his hip – stopped for a moment to appreciatively stroke the shaft of Draco's swollen cock, which drew a high-pitched whimper – and then down further, experimentally pressing against the tight ring of muscle.

Draco shivered violently. His back arced and his head turned away.

"Y-you should be careful," Draco warned breathlessly. "I'm very – it's a very, ah, sensitive are for me."

Harry raised both eyebrows.

"Is it? How sensitive?"

Draco's face went scarlet and took on a look of defiance.

"Very," he answered shortly.

Harry's mind filled with a million delightful possibilities, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He held out one hand and his wand, on the floor against the wall, flew into his palm.

"Very sensitive," Harry repeated, casting a quick lubrication spell. Draco whimpered at the sensation and his legs spread open further, one of them curling over Harry's back. "What, is that all you have to say about it? Is that very sensitive as in you'll turn into a writhing, moaning mess if I find the right spot, or very sensitive as in you can come without ever touching your cock?"

The moan that shook Draco's body was answer enough, but Harry had no intention of not making completely sure. He pushed one finger past the ring of muscle, and to his absolute delight, Draco did not so much groan as scream in pleasure, all the lines of his body tense and writhing.

"God, you should see yourself right now," Harry muttered, pushing his finger in more deeply into Draco and slowly, gently, thoroughly fucking him with it. "You are something out of a wet dream."

Draco was half-screaming, half-sobbing, bucking his hips against Harry's hand wantonly. Deftly, Harry slid in a second finger to join the first. The spell had made him slick, but he was still gripping him tightly and hot as hell.

"Please," Draco managed, voice strangled.

The word went straight to Harry's cock. "Please what?"

"I can't take it," he moaned, his hands fisting in the bedspread.

Harry added a third finger and Draco screamed. "Tell me exactly what you want," Harry said, even though he knew damn well what Draco wanted and he wanted it as well, so badly that he was surprising himself with his self-control.

Chest heaving, eyes screwed shut, toes curling, Draco gathered what was left of his eloquence and said, "I want you to fuck me. I want the imprint of your cock pressed indelibly into me. I w-want – oh, Merlin – I want to feel – f-feel the heat of your climax inside me, I w-want – I want to forget the meaning of words and my own name and absolutely everything until there's only you, only this—!"

Harry had no idea how Draco could wax poetry like that while Harry was three fingers deep inside of him and it didn't matter. It was the most impossibly erotic sequence of words he'd ever heard in his life.

He pulled his hand free, pushed one of Draco's thighs aside and—

"Aaahhnnnhhhaaaaarryyyyyy—!"

He had to hold onto Draco; there was a very good chance that without that anchor, Harry might drift off into the ether.

The sensation was incredible – being hilted inside Draco was like sinking into a bath. Harry felt the heat of him seep right down into his bones, and he held Draco tightly with both arms around his back, kissing frantically, wantonly across the skin of his neck. Draco was clawing at his back, fingernails digging across the skin, and when Harry started to thrust, everything around them amplified and warped.

There was no more talking – words stopped having meaning. There was Draco scream-sobbing in delirious pleasure, Harry groaning into the silvery hair, the feeling of Draco's body gripping Harry so tightly that it felt like he was trying to pull his soul out through his cock, and nothing else. The universe stopped at their skin.

Harry could feel the heat mounting in his stomach, the frantic bucking of Draco's hips, the twitching of his cock against Harry's stomach. Fireworks were building behind his eyes, set to explode. He pulled Draco's head back with both hands and kissed him ferociously – the sweat, the heat, the delirium, the salt on his lips, faster, deeper – Draco spasmed and writhed under him and Harry could feel his release against his skin – the rise, the fog of near climax—

He stilled – jerked. Hands knotted in Draco's cornsilk hair, he emptied inside him, pulse after pulse of blinding orgasm so powerful that he couldn't even see through the fireworks. Draco was gasping, moaning, shaking and saying words that felt like Harry's name – Harry, Harry, Harry…

There was sunlight on Draco's face, and from somewhere not too far, the smell of a strong brew of breakfast tea.

He pulled open his eyes. He was in bed, naked and – what was this heavy sort of feeling? Sort of between weak and giddy and sleepy and sore?

Oh, he remembered, biting down on the smile suddenly tugging at his mouth. Well-shagged. Not something he'd felt in years.

The bed was empty, but the bedroom door was ajar. Draco stood up with some difficulty, pulled on his dressing gown, kicked on his slippers, and headed out.

As he approached the kitchen, muffled voices got clearer:

"… a raspberry bush just down the street, wild raspberries, Dolly goes there when they're in season and picks them."

"It's incredible, I didn't even know jam could taste this good…"

Draco came around the corner. Dolly was on her stool in front of the stove, fussing over what looked like eggs benedict, and Harry was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea and toast with what Draco guessed was raspberry jam.

Harry looked up when he saw him – there was a moment of surprise, but it quickly melted into a smile.

"Draco," he said, rising out of his chair. "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you."

Draco laughed. "You didn't wake me," he said.

Harry crossed the kitchen and kissed him. It was a quiet, serene, lovely feeling that made Draco's insides twist. The same feeling when Harry'd kissed him the first time. He wondered if it would ever go away, and found himself sincerely hoping it wouldn't.

"Did you know that your house-elf is a genius?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Potter is exaggerating!" Dolly squeaked.

"She made her own jam!" said Harry. He reached over for the slice of toast and offered it to Draco. Laughing, Draco took an obliging bite. The jam was delicious and rich and sweet.

"It's really not very hard," Dolly said, filling a second mug with tea for Draco. "It's Dolly's hobby."

"Be modest as you like, Dolly, this is the best jam I've had in my life. You could start your own business and put the Malfoy fortune to shame."

Draco laughed and watched them argue about just how talented Dolly was at making jam and exactly how much money she could make if she wanted to start selling it. He was smiling so wide his face hurt. He was half-expecting to wake up at any moment – when had his life become this simple and beautiful and lovely?

Eventually, Dolly lifted a mug of tea up towards him and nudged it into his hand. He smiled down at her and took a sip.

"Did Master Draco sleep well?" she asked him, having now decided that ignoring Harry's praise was the best way to avoid embarrassment.

"I slept wonderfully, Dolly," Draco said, looking for a moment at Harry and catching his eyes.

"A good day always starts with a good sleep," Dolly replied, shuffling back toward the stove.

"A good day," Draco repeated. "Yes, I think it is going to be a very good day."

Author's Note: Hey, guess what? I've written a sequel! Go check out Sins and Scars and Shattered Things in my profile! Also, please leave a review; reviews are like crack to me.