Disclaimer: First of all, I don't own the characters or any of the canon details, those are the wonderful Ms Rowling's. Secondly, sorry Ms Rowling for corrupting your boys in this way.

Pairings: HPDM

Warnings: Slash, obviously. Swearing, sex, etc etc. Rated for a bloody good reason - do not read this if you are under the age of consent in your country. In later chapters the story will feature m-preg and a subsequent miscarriage which may be distressful to some readers (I know from my point of view that it was distressful to write).

Beta: The wonderful, magical, incendiary Aima D. Duragon.

Special Thanks To: Consulting Shippers and Lovefremione

It wasn't supposed to happen. The universe had clearly dropped the ball at some point or another: sneezed while totting up its sums, or nipped out back for a cigarette when it thought no one would notice. And to be fair, almost no one did.

Wizards often laughed - and not always fondly - at those daft muggles who'd happily witness a parade of hippogriffs running down a busy metropolitan street and chalk it up to one-too-many glasses of sherry, but the truth was, wizards were just as bad. Most wizards would quietly bear witness to just about anything foretold in a prophecy - from a horrific disaster to the ruin of a young man in his prime - and chalk it up to fate.

These days, Draco would often look at Harry and think: 'Merlin's sparkly fishnets, that man needs to lighten up...' Because if Draco could find a way to see past the doom and gloom of the war then surely anyone could. He was beginning to realise that Harry and his merry band of minions weren't nearly as, well, merry as they'd made out. With the possible exception of Ron, who it seemed could maintain a bright outlook in nearly any situation provided his belly was full.

The first, and arguably most important, thing Draco had unearthed upon escaping the shackles of his father was a decent sense of humour. If nothing else, it kept him sane throughout the oppressive scrutiny of his first few months on the right side of the war effort. Everyone here had a rather morbid fascination with duty, and Harry was the worst for it. It wasn't that Draco didn't see their reasoning or underestimated the danger of their situation - he knew perfectly well how important it was to put Voldemort in the ground once and for all - but every time someone uttered that quintessentially British phrase: 'There is a war on you know,' he felt like he was on the verge of cracking up.

He was alive! He was free! He wanted to run through the castle caterwauling it at the top of his lungs. His whole future was out there for the taking, and even if that future was short, it was still his to live. With a bit of luck and, of course, a bit of work, who knew? Once the war was behind them he could make a little money and settle down, find a wife, have a few kids… wrangle himself one of those big furry mountain dogs that might as well be a bear but with longer ears... It seemed to Draco that these people, who trudged through their days of strategy meetings and walked defiantly into battle, had forgotten to appreciate the very thing they were so afraid to lose.

And so the day that Draco finally managed to get a sodding smile out of Harry, he really didn't expect much else.

He definitely didn't expect for Harry to kiss him like he was drowning from the inside out. Nor did he expect to find Harry - this cold, shuttered, excuse for a man - ablaze all around him, tangled in his sheets, whispering nervous secrets in his ear. Frankly it was absurd, but there he was, being pulled into the firestorm like oxygen, lying flat on his back and naked as the day he was born.

It all started in a room filled with every assortment of junk imaginable: Socks, swords, skeletons, and much more besides. Harry surveyed the articles around him without any real interest, scuffing his shoes idly as he paced.

"I thought you said this was important, Malfoy."

"It is," Draco called back from behind a pile of broken furniture.

"Well can you get to it at some point in the next millennium? I have a mountain of research to get through."

Draco swung back into view. "It's always work, work, work, with you isn't it, Potter? Even the boy-wonder needs a break every once and a while you know..." he said, snatching up a purple feather boa and throwing it around Harry's neck.

"Yeah? Tell you what, you do my job for a day and let me know how it goes," Harry retorted, pulling off the boa and throwing it at a pile of books.

"Oh cheer up will you, the wet blanket routine's getting old." Draco picked up a mannequin and began to dance it around the room.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get you to crack a smile of course. Merlin you're hard work, Potter!"

"What's up with you today, Malfoy, you're practically...giddy? It's weird. Stop it."

"Hey! How do you know I've not always been like this, and you've just been too thick-skulled to notice?"

"Well... Have you?"

"Nah, I really was that much of an arse. I guess being around a miserable git like you day in-day out does good things for my disposition. One of us needs to have a sense of humour..."

"I don't have time for a sense of humour, Malfoy.

"Well that's a bit depressing. Look on the bright side for once will you, it's your birthday after all... and, as of today, we're one step closer to winning the war."

"Oh? How'd you figure?"

Draco dropped the mannequin and turned to face Harry.

"Ah! Well..." he paused for dramatic effect, "I might just have a present for you."

With that, he disappeared off behind a pile of battered looking armchairs.

"Is it Voldemort's head on a pike?"

"Nuh-uh, much better than that."

Harry spun around as Draco sprung out again from behind him, dressed in a large fur coat, an acid green wig, oversized sunglasses and a pirate's hat.

"You look ridiculous!"

"Coming from you, scarface?"

Draco struck a comical pose, and Harry began to laugh. The laughter grew and grew and became interspersed with wheezing breaths as he bent double, clasping his stomach. Draco's face was painted with victory by the time he threw off the mismatched items.

"Oh, thank you," Harry gasped.

"What for?"

"Wasn't that my present?"

Draco surveyed him with a look of confusion for a moment. "Ah, the gift of laughter...if only I'd known you were that easy to please, Potter..."

"So, what is it then?"

"Close your eyes," Draco ordered, disappearing into the folds of the room once more.

"Are you going to hex me?"

"Potter, honestly! Do as you're told!"

"Fine!" Harry huffed like he was half his age.

Draco appeared again, and held a battered looking tiara out to his Harry. "You can look now."

"Um," Harry looked at it awkwardly, "It's really not my style Malfoy..."

"Oh no? Look closer."

Something dawned on Harry's face "Is this- It can't be- Is it?"

"Yup."

"I can't believe this, you- I mean, how?" Harry eventually spluttered, taking Ravenclaw's diadem with shaky fingers.

Draco stepped back and gave a sweeping bow, "I live to serve." Straightening up, satisfied, he added, "Night then."

He made to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm and stared at him with an unreadable expression. It made Draco decidedly uncomfortable, he swallowed and prepared to break the dizzy silence but Harry sensed it coming and pulled him into a reckless kiss before either of them could put a stop to it.

Draco took a step back, partly to break their connection but mostly just to get his bearings. "What was that for?"

Harry's eyes cut into him, still riding on the euphoria of it all, "You're amazing, you know that?"

Draco studied him, "Did someone slip you something at lunch? From a little shimmery bottle? Probably smelt like sweaty quidditch gear and chocolate frogs?"

Harry finally faltered, "You're going to be a dick about this aren't you?"

"I'm not, I just... I'm not connecting the dots here. Does everyone who finds a horcrux get a snog? Is it some kind of reward system? Or... are you just so rarely in a good mood that it gets you randy enough to jump on the nearest thing with a pulse?" Draco leaned forward. "Are you gay? Am I hot to gay guys?"

Harry clenched his fists. "You kissed me back," he pointed out through his teeth.

Draco pursed his lips and rubbed his face, "Yeah, I'm aware of that, I was there too."

Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "So?" he demanded.

Draco studied him a while longer. "Come here," he said eventually, in the softest voice Harry had ever heard him use.

Harry closed the gap between them. Draco reached out and put his hands either side of Harry's neck, testing out how it felt. He brought their lips together slowly, his eyes wide open as Harry's fell shut. The blood flooding to his cock told him enough - for the time being at least, and he wasn't in the habit of thinking much further ahead.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he breathed when it was over.

That night Draco recounted the whole thing to himself precisely sixty-seven times, fascinated by Harry's actions – not that that was anything new, he couldn't remember a time when Harry hadn't fascinated him, even if he was a frequently morbid bastard - but moreso by his own reaction. He was so wrapped up in it all that he nearly missed the knock at his door.

Harry chewed on his lip and scattered his eyes in every direction, "Can I come in?"

Draco started to reply 'Sure,'but Harry's hands were on him the second he opened his mouth. Draco felt like his brain was folding in on itself but he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck. Harry's tongue was about the only thing he could process and he was quite comfortable with that.

By the time he was able to piece together the rest of what had been going on, his clothes were somewhere else and his big regal bed was in chaos around them. He whistled and briefly let his head fall back against the pillows.

Harry's fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, and Draco knew that at any moment those fingers might start to wander, and could wander wherever they wanted - a notion he found both terrifying and euphoric.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Draco brought a hand to Harry's face and brushed his thumb over his cheek. "You used to smile like that all the time. I never realised I could bring it back," he said, compelled into pressing his lips to the pulse point in Harry's neck.

Harry drew in a shaky breath; Draco moaned something incomprehensible against his skin and pulled back. He shuffled himself down so that he was sitting on Harry's thighs and pulled him up into a sitting position, his eyes wide and bright.

"We're alive, Harry!" he said, shaking him slightly, "We could jump off the astronomy tower and sprout wings! We could take on an army of rabid goblins! We could do anything!" He placed a hand over Harry's heart and stared at it for a moment. "Don't you feel that?"

"Yeah," Harry ducked his head.

"Come on now, Harry," Draco took his chin in the crook of his finger. "Once more with feeling?"

Harry's cheeks flushed pink; he laughed and tried to avert his eyes, "Yes, we're alive!"

Draco grinned and kissed him.

"You're a certifiable nut job by the way, just so you know."

"Tell you what, I'll have the men with the little white coats come and get me in the morning."

Harry laughed again and it built and bubbled out from the depths of his stomach until he was clutching Draco and struggling to breathe.

"Alright there?"

"This is so bizarre."

"It is rather," Draco agreed. "Here I am stark bollock naked and you're still fully clothed? I sense foul play afoot."

"You planning on doing something about it?"

Draco smirked and made to grab the front of Harry's t-shirt but Harry caught his wrist before he could.

"This is just between us, right?"

"It's no one else's business, Harry."

Harry's shoulders dropped. His fingers played on Draco's chest as he looked up into his eyes.

"Out of interest, what would you have done if I'd said: 'No, Harry, I've got Creevey hidden in the wash basket - the photos will be on the front page of the Prophet in the morning'."

"Obliviated you," Harry replied as though it were obvious, "And him. Though I doubt Creevey would have the balls to be anywhere near your wash basket."

Draco tried to decide how insulted he was. Eventually he just shrugged, "Fair enough." He kissed Harry's temple and touched their fingers together. "Don't though, I think I want to remember you like this."

Harry chewed his lip; he dropped his gaze into his lap only to be startled by the obscene sight of Draco's cock sitting there, eager and unabashed. He jerked his eyes away and almost instantly scolded himself for it: he'd wanted this, he'd made it happen, there was no use being prudish about it now.

The trouble was, he had no idea what to do with it. He wanted to curl his fingers around it and find out if it felt different to his own. It looked different anyway. But once he touched it he was starting something new, and what if he couldn't finish it? What if what he liked wasn't what Draco liked? What if-

"Come on then: off," Draco ordered him, pulling Harry's t-shirt up and over his head. "Down," he added pressing against Harry's chest.

"What am I, a bloody cocker spaniel?"

"Well you do bear a striking resemblance."

Harry hit him with a pillow. "Arse."

"You do realise I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, Harry," Draco grimaced and brushed his hair away from his face with a sweaty palm.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him but quickly lost his nerve and picked at his fingernails instead. "I don't mind if you don't."

"Look, I really, really hope I'm not about to regret asking this... because, well this is hot... and you know I'm all about the new experiences these days-"

"I didn't know that."

"That's because your nose is always in either a book or a battle drill," Draco tilted his head and pointed a finger at him. "But for the record, I am."

Draco paused to consider Harry for a moment. "For the first time in my life I can do whatever I want, and honestly, I don't even know what that is, but I know I have the freedom to figure it out, which is a damn sight more than I had in a house full of deatheaters and werewolves and my demented-" Draco's eyes flared and he stopped himself short. "Getting off track, my point is, I know why I'm along for this ride, but what's going on with you?"

"Does something have to be going on with me?"

"No." He paused thoughtfully. "Mostly I'm just checking you're not having some sort of breakdown."

"How gentlemanly of you."

"Hey," Draco poked Harry's chest. "Don't get snarky with me Oh-Mighty-Exhaulted-Saviour-of-the-World-and-Magic-and-Decency-and-Tiny-Little-Baby-Penguins-Somewhere-in-Antarctica."

"What?" Harry guffawed.

"Shut up."

"It's my birthday today," Harry said offhandedly, picking at his fingernails again.

"Yes, we've covered that," Draco said slowly before adding with pride: "I even got you a present."

"That you did."

Draco leaned in close to whisper in Harry's ear; the tip of his cock rested against Harry's stomach and it reacted with a flutter. "Seeing as we're all alone - you know, apart from Creevey - you can feel free to admit it."

"Admit what?"

Draco sat himself back up. "That my present was the best."

"It was the only."

Draco scrunched his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Excuse me?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not a big deal, there's a lot going on. I mean, it's the full moon so Remus is out of the picture, and Ron asked if I wanted to do something - go out for drinks with him and Hermione maybe, but I didn't see the point…."

Draco slumped and folded his arms, his mouth became a troubled pout, "And they just… accepted that?"

"I don't have time for birthdays," Harry explained as if to a small child; Draco just about smacked him. "Birthdays are for other people, and I'm just not…"

"What? A person?" Draco made no attempt to hide his incredulity.

"I think this was a bad idea," Harry said. He tried to sit up but Draco, though still lost in his thoughts and staring off into space, pushed him back down.

"Let me up!"

Draco snapped his head around again. "I will, in a minute, but let's just get one thing straight first: You are not a piece of bloody machinery with some kind of predefined shelf life Harry. Fuck!"

"I-"

"You're a human being: no more or less important than the rest of us mere mortals. You deserve birthdays and lazy Sunday mornings and awkward sexual encounters and to have your ass whooped at Quidditch every once and a while – by me if at all possible, but that's a whole separate issue - and, and..." he made a wild gesture, "The terror that is steamed cabbage! Along with countless other things that I can't think of right now."

"Are you quite done?"

Draco folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure."

"Oh screw it," Harry huffed as he wound a hand behind Draco's neck and dragged his lips down to meet his own.

"Stop!" Draco pushed him away. "A minute ago you said this was a bad idea."

Harry latched onto Draco's jaw line rather than respond. He rolled him onto his back again and moved his mouth to just behind his ear.

Draco started to panic for the first time that evening. "Wait, wait!" he beat his fits on Harry's shoulders. "What if you're right?"

"Why are we still talking about this?" Harry murmured against his skin.

Draco's throat constricted as Harry's lips trailed down over one of his nipples. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking for ways to hurt you, Harry. You can't just pretend none of those things happened."

"I've decided I'm over it."

"Is that why we've gone from civil conversation to full frontal nudity in the space of six hours?"

"Don't be a moron, Draco," Harry replied from somewhere near his belly button; Draco couldn't bear to look—he only knew because he could feel Harry's breath warming his skin.

"Hey!" Draco gently kicked his side with his bare foot. "I'm trying to look out for you, you dick."

Harry looked up at last. "You're sweet."

"I've been called a lot of things, Potter..."

Harry prowled back up his torso until they were eye for eye. He kissed Draco so softly it might have been a dream, "I've been over it since you showed up at the castle gates all those months ago and begged Dumbledore to let you in."

Draco's lungs hurt, stuck somewhere between relief and fear.

"What else?" Harry asked him, probing his eyes.

"I meant it when I said I hadn't done this before."

"You scared?" Harry whispered.

Draco knitted his brows together; he opened his mouth to speak but couldn't decide on an answer.

"I am a little," Harry admitted. "But I want this. Do you?"

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled. "Yes."

Harry pressed their foreheads together and gently brushed their noses. He pulled at Draco's bottom lip with his teeth; their breath and tongues mingled together.

Draco's fingers sought out the waistband of Harry's trousers; they shook slightly as he worked at the buttons. Draco broke their kiss to yelp when Harry kicked the last of his clothing off his ankles and inadvertently struck him.

"Sorry," Harry said, "But hey, at least we're even on the clothes front now."

Draco looked down between them; he both saw and felt his cock twitch. Harry took his own in his hand and experimentally touched it to Draco's - once, then twice.

Draco's stomach muscles clamped together painfully and he let go of a nervous laugh, "What are you doing?"

"Playing?" Harry did his best to look coy in spite of the heart thudding up against his ribcage.

Draco's hand reached between them. He wrapped his fingers around both of them and stroked softly. His wrist was bent at an awkward angle, but before he could adjust it Harry batted it out of the way.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Draco felt the bed shift and then all of a sudden a wet tongue was running along the underside of his cock, a spasm of shock ran through Draco's whole body. "Fuck!"

"No good?"

"Don't be a tease."

"Who, me?"

Harry continued to explore with his mouth. It was wet and imprecise, but Draco watched in awe that someone else was doing this for him: the concept alone was enough to push his limits, the fact that Harry was that someone else had him fisting the sheets and fighting to conjure up foul images of Professor Slughorn doing inappropriate things with a potions vial.

Harry's jaw had started to ache quite badly after the first few minutes but he was determined to see it through. He took as much of Draco's cock in his mouth as could manage and began to move up and down the length of it; spit slipped from the corner of his mouth and trailed down over Draco's balls.

"Harry," Draco's plea sounded like one of pain.

Harry looked up, concerned. "Mmmm?" he questioned with his mouth still full.

Draco's mouth opened to speak as his hips bucked of their own accord. A stream of something hot and salty hit the back of Harry's throat so unexpectedly that he wasn't sure what to do with it. He swallowed on reflex but not before some had escaped. He lifted his mouth away carefully and wiped his chin with his wrist.

Draco's eyes were still screwed shut. Harry studied the way his fists clenched and unclenched; he was panting and sweating, and then he began to shiver. Harry pulled the blankets around both of them and nestled himself in the crook of Draco's shoulder, still watching, fascinated, unable to believe he'd caused it all.

"I'm sorry, I wanted," Draco swallowed, "To warn you, but..."

"Can I kiss you?"

Draco blinked his eyes open at last and gave him a confused look.

"I mean because," Harry struggled to find a polite way to rephrase: 'because my mouth is coated in your come' but found he couldn't. Thankfully it seemed to dawn on Draco. "Is that gross?" Harry asked in the end.

Draco languidly stroked his fingers through the back of Harry's hair and pulled him closer; he kissed him with an open mouth and a wandering tongue. "I think it's kinda hot actually."

Harry smiled to himself and chewed his thumbnail as he sidled in closer, resting his head and settling his hand on Draco's ribs.

Draco felt Harry's still hard cock on his thigh. "Just give me a minute to..."

"Recover?"

"I was going to say breathe."

Harry listened to Draco's heartbeat wind down. "So... not completely crap then?"

He was met with silence.

"Draco?" Harry lifted his head "Draco are you asleep!?"

Draco opened one eye. "No, but your face was priceless."

Harry thumped him on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright," Draco laughed. He sat up and pulled his legs underneath him so that he was kneeling. "Come here," he patted the space in front of him.

Harry mourned the blankets that slid off him as he manoeuvred himself.

Draco spun a circle with his forefinger. "Other way around."

"What are you..."

The start Harry gave made Draco curious and slightly relieved, "Not that."

"No?"

"Sorta tapped out at the moment Harry," Draco reassured him, "And I..."

"What?"

Draco tentatively put his hands around the back of Harry's neck. "I don't want to rush... whatever this is."

Harry drew Draco's arms away and turned himself around. He kneeled upright, mimicking Draco's own stance. Draco hung back, memorising the curves and shadows of his back, watching his toes curl and uncurl.

"Cold?" Draco asked as Harry began to shiver and wrapped his arms around himself.

"Just a little."

Draco lifted his wand from the bedside table and whispered a spell. Flecks of warm light appeared all around them.

"You'll have to show me how you did that sometime."

Draco brought himself forward so that his back was pressed to Harry's. He wound his arms across Harry's chest and rested his mouth on the join between his neck and shoulder.

Harry shivered again.

"Still cold? Or something else?"

"Something else."

Draco coasted his hand down over Harry's midriff and coiled his fingers around his cock; Harry's eyes rolled backwards with his head. Draco touched Harry as if he were touching himself. He imagined the sensations as if they were his own, and moaned with him, moved with him. He felt his own spent cock tingle futilely against the sweat slicked skin of Harry's back and grasped at Harry's chest with his free hand. He would be so close now, so close.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this, Harry?"

Harry tensed suddenly; he bit down hard on his lip as he came in streams all over the silk bedspread that decorated the end of Draco's bed. Draco held him as he shook and lay them both down on their sides. He pulled the blankets over them and shook the bedspread onto the floor with his foot. They fell asleep as Draco whispered nonsensical things into Harry's ear, the lights still flickering above them.

Harry awoke several hours later and shifted carefully onto his back so as not to disturb the arms around him.

"Draco?" he whispered.

"Mmmm?"

"Thank you." It sounded flat to Harry, those two simple words didn't seem enough.

"Any time," Draco sighed through a yawn.

The sentiment made Harry uneasy, and he wasn't ready to think about why yet; it was still dark, the night was still his own.

"I keep having this dream," he said. "It started a few months ago."

"Yeah?"

"The war's over, or, I dunno, maybe there was never a war to begin with."

Draco's eyes fluttered open. "Sounds like a good dream."

"You're there."

"I am?"

"Yeah," Harry felt a sad tug at his heart.

"What else?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Please tell me."

Harry just shook his head again.

"Do I do something to hurt you?" he asked quietly.

"Why are you so scared of that?"

"Because," Draco creased his brow, "I wouldn't want to."

"We're lying like this," Harry said eventually. "And you're looking at me the way you're looking at me now."

"How am I looking at you now?"

"Like...I don't know...the way other people look at people who aren't me. No hatred, no grand expectations, just...it's hard to explain."

"Harry," Draco brushed his eyebrow with his thumb, "I'm looking at you like someone who thinks there's more to you than that fucking scar, is that what you mean?"

Harry looked away. "I guess."

"So, this isn't some spur of the moment 'It's my birthday and I'll misbehave if I damn well want to' lapse in sanity after all then?"

"Oh it is," Harry smiled almost apologetically, "But..." he gnawed his lip, "There's a reason I'm having it with you."

Draco wasn't prepared for the force of disappointment he felt on hearing this revelation but he did his best not to show it. "Well don't I feel special," he tried to joke.

"Make love to me."

It was spoken so softly that Draco nearly missed it.

"What?"

"Make love to me," Harry repeated through his fingers.

Draco's jaw worked around several disjointed responses. "That's a pretty big line to cross, Harry," he said in the end.

"We've crossed a fair few already."

"I'm not going anywhere, so why are you in such a hurry?"

Harry rubbed his face with both hands. "Look, this can't happen again."

"Do you turn into a warty toad at first light or something?"

"Not far off."

Draco scoffed bitterly.

"Look, I can't afford to be a normal person. I know you think that's a crock of shit but it's true and I don't need another lecture about it."

Draco's scowl scorched holes in the ceiling.

"People will die, Draco."

"People will die if you let yourself be happy? Seriously? Are you hearing yourself?"

Harry ground his back teeth together. Draco looked over at him and deflated at the misery he saw, such a contrast from the carefree glow he'd given off before.

He rolled himself gingerly on top of Harry, found his hands, and kissed him slowly. "You can't fit a whole life's worth of... life into one night. It doesn't work like that."

"Why shouldn't I try?"

Draco sighed, defeated. "You'll never get it back."

"I don't want it back," Harry said. "I want you," he added in a murmur.

Draco hung his head and let the musk of Harry's skin overtake his better judgement.

"Can we stay this way? Does that- is it more uncomfortable for you this way?"

"I..." Harry pulled his shoulders up around his ears and made a vague gesture with his hands.

"Can we try?" Draco swallowed, "I want to see you."

Harry bit his lips together and nodded. "Do you have, um... sometimes when I... I..."

Draco squinted at him for a moment as he attempted to decipher what on earth Harry was trying to get at. "Oh, OH! Yes. I think. Hang on." He sprawled across Harry and stretched a hand into his bedside drawer.

"Is this what you mean?" he asked, holding up a little green bottle for inspection.

Harry's cheeks lit up red; he nodded into the pillow rather than make eye contact. Draco's stomach flipped over as he tried to remember how to breathe.

"Right then," he said to himself, and then to Harry: "You're sure? Really absolutely positively-"

"Draco!"

"Yes?"

"Stop talking now."

"Right. I can do that," he said, fumbling with the bottle to get at the slippery contents within.

At first, all Harry could see were red blotches of pain occurring in time with the nervous thump of his heart. Somehow, he hadn't imagined it could hurt so much; part of him wanted to take Draco up on his suggestion that they stop. His ears filled with a loud buzz and the dull sound crowded out his ability to think and weighed on his arms. When the world of sound came back Draco took his cue to move his hips in time with his hand on Harry's cock.

"This... feels..."

Draco couldn't manage more than a grunt. They'd found a gentle rhythm and he fought to hold onto it for as long as possible but once it collapsed out from under him there was nothing left but frantic need and Harry. Both of them were blind and building towards the end and it came with a rush of sparks and wet heat.

"Harry! The sun's not even up yet!"

"It's getting that way though," Harry replied as he pulled on his socks.

"Sadist," Draco grumbled.

Harry scooped up his jeans and pulled them on, standing to fasten them. "I can't risk anyone seeing me."

"Harry Potter's dirty little secret, my father would be so proud."

"Draco!" Harry huffed and swung around only to find that Draco was wearing an amused smirk and dancing his fingers over the sheets. "Sorry, I thought you were being-"

"Difficult?"

Harry turned his attention back to getting dressed; he found his t-shirt halfway across the room. As he pulled it on, he was struck by the image of how it had come off and felt another excited twinge in his gut.

Harry stilled, "Any regrets?"

"Life's too short, Harry," Draco reassured him. "Hey, come here."

"Don't."

"Dear Merlin you have a suspicious mind, Potter," Draco extricated himself from the bed, holding the sheet around him at the neck and using his free hand to take up his wand; he looked something like a muggle parodying a wizard. He stepped toward Harry, gracefully ensuring he remained covered. He touched his wand to Harry's t-shirt and muttered something; it changed from blue to red.

"Can't have you getting caught sneaking back to bed in yesterday's clothes now can we?"

He ran his wand over the line of Harry's jaw and the stubble there disappeared, he touched it to the hollow of Harry's throat and a tinkling sensation spread outwards, removing the sticky traces of sweat and saliva and Harry dared not think what else.

"There, all gone. Never happened," Draco purred.

Harry shoved him back, "What's your game?"

"Well I'm rather fond of gobstones..."

"How about a little less sarcasm and a little more honesty. I know you disagree with this, you were quite vocal about it last night."

Draco thought about making another quip but decided it wouldn't help anything. "I wasn't trying to be sarcastic, I just didn't think you really had the time or inclination for a 'cards on the table' conversation right now. Aren't you supposed to be skulking your way across the castle?"

Harry's eyes flicked to the door, he clenched and unclenched his fingers. "Well let's have them then, your cards," he demanded with an agitated gesture.

Draco raised his eyebrows until Harry crossed his arms and looked down at his feet.

"I never imagined a person could feel the way I felt last night," he started carefully, "And... I really want to feel that way again. And just so we're clear, I'm not talking about the sex, mind blowing as it was," Draco saw Harry raise his eyes from the floor. "I'm talking about being with you. You're pretty amazing yourself, Harry. You can deny it all you want but I've seen it up close. And yes, I think you're an idiot for denying yourself the things that make you happy. And yes, I think you're an egotistical twat for believing that it's solely your responsibility to bring down that lunatic, but I said all this to you last night and you're still leaving now, just like you said you would," Draco shrugged, "I knew what I was getting into."

"Yeah, you did," Harry said quietly.

"So what's the point in talking about it?"

Harry bit his lips together in a small smile. "Not much," he turned to leave.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want my honesty I'll make sure you always have it, but don't expect to always like what you hear, okay?"

Harry nodded without making eye contact and escaped into the empty corridors of the castle.

A/N: So, there it is :) Phew! Hope you liked it!

This is hereby dedicated to the wonderful Consulting Shippers! My ever faithful muse who has stuck with me, inspired me, and pestered me to write this for literally years at this point! Dear god, thank you! You'll never know how much it's meant :)

Massive gratitude also to my Beta, the marvelously talented Aima D. Duragon, and my chief reviewer and all round source of sparklyness Lovefremione.