Title: Odd Reparations
Author: 0idontknow0
Prompt: The order has won the war and Harry is their hero. The new Ministry regime decides to auction off the Death Eaters and their services to raise money for war reparations. On a whim, Harry decides to buy Draco.
Prompt submitted by: hpfangirl71
Pairing(s): Harry/ Draco
Word Count: ~30,000
Rating: M
Warning(s) *Dark, kinky: deep throating; spanking, dub-con, minor character death*
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: I want to thank the absolutely lovely asnq8 for her last minute beta of what was my terribly incomplete fic.
Summary: Well, I think the prompt explains it quite well, but if I must: Draco did not quite expect Potter to be the one to buy him at the auction, he didn't really expect an auction to begin with, and he definitely did not expect Potter to be utilizing him in the way that he did.

Draco swallowed discreetly as he watched the goings-on. The Dark Lord had lost the war. Potter and the Order of the Phoenix had won. Wizarding society was in shambles. Despite all that, the Ministry apparently had enough time, and audacity, to auction off the surviving Death Eaters – those deemed stable without a wand - to the angry, suffering, vindictive public in the name of war reparations.

Draco awaited his turn.

He and the other Death Eaters were huddled in a waiting room dressed in the same drab attire, dark grey coveralls that were made with ridiculously cheap fabric and that came in about two sizes –large and extra large. Draco was swallowed in the garb and it did not help that he had thinned down during the war. He ceased concentrating on his attire and forced himself to pay attention though. There was no point in trying to distract himself now, there was nothing he could do to escape this. Not even his father's hand on his shoulder could calm him.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," said the orotund voice of the auctioneer, made all the louder by a Sonorus charm.

His father squeezed his shoulder and his mother whispered reassurances to him since she was too far away to do much else. They were arranged in alphabetical order and held shackle to shackle so that they could not successfully move their way through the group and cause any sort of trouble. Draco nodded his thanks to his parents, hoping that they would be able to see one another again. They all knew that a number of the buyers had malicious intentions behind their purchases and that many of the Death Eaters might undergo severe treatment, which to be completely honest, they deserved. They each hoped they were one of those lucky enough to come out in nearly the same condition they went into the buyer's possession with though.

Draco felt his shackles separate from those of his father's and he was dragged aside and pushed into a tall, narrow cell. The door clanged shut behind him and the ground below him rose. He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing despite his fear, opening them when he felt the first rays of sunshine on his head. It was bright outside, blinding even. It had been near a month since he had last seen the outside world.

He had missed it.

The wrought iron gate before him rose as slowly as his heart beat quickened and he was seized viciously by the arm and pulled harshly into the centre of the arena. He was in something akin to a coliseum, perhaps it was one. He glanced up at the crowd swiftly, using only his eyes, and they stared down at him. To say he was nervous was very much an understatement. Draco simply straightened his spine and looked ahead of him as he waited for the proceedings to begin. He would do what he had done at the Manor. He would stifle his emotions so that he could live through it.

"Charged with letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, torturing innocents, aiding in the confinement and ill treatment of a number of citizens and colluding with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to oppress those that are not pure-blooded or who are deemed blood traitors. May we begin the bidding?"

Harry was bored. He had come to the auction because Ron and Neville had wanted to see all the drama unfold. Hermione found the entire idea rather disgusting and wanted nothing to do with it. She also wanted to find her parents so she had left for Australia the day before, after spending the past month helping Ron to deal with Fred's death and then spending the rest of her time studying reversal spells for when she located her parents, not to mention a number of tracking charms so that she would have a better chance of finding them.

He fiddled with the end of his number, everyone in the coliseum got one "just in case", and listened half heartedly as people jeered at whoever was in the arena, called out bids and informed him of the various crimes the respective Death Eater had committed or was suspected of committing. Thankfully they had already gone through half the alphabet so he could leave soon.

I wish.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," said the auctioneer, his voice clear and overbearing.

Harry glanced down at the arena and watched the blonde. Clad in the bland coveralls that all the others had worn so far, he looked thin, tired, and distant. The man's eyes were fixed before him and he stood tall despite his controlled breathing. Malfoy was afraid. He should be. Merlin knew what half these people would do to those Death Eaters, never mind that some of them probably deserved it for what they had done and the lives they had taken.

"Three sickles!" yelled Ron.

"FOUR!" Neville hollered. The two had been doing that all day just for the fun of it.

"Ten for the sodding git!" yelled a woman.

Malfoy flinched.

"Eleven!"

"Fifteen! The traitor isn't worth more than that!"

"A Galleon! He ought to learn what he put us through!" came the angry voice of some bloke Harry could not see.

These people wanted Malfoy and they were out for blood.

"Four!"

Malfoy had been a catalyst in the war.

"Seven"

He let the Death Eaters in.

"Ten! "

He had tried to kill Dumbledore.

"Fifteen galleons!" Harry yelled. He never used much of the money in his vault so he reckoned it would not hurt to spend some. He had enough.

"Twenty!" he heard after a few beats. The man's voice was vaguely familiar.

"Twenty-five!" he said.

"Thirty-four!" they said again.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered. "Fifty!"

There was a moments silence and he used it to look down at his school rival. Malfoy was scanning the crowd for the bidder but there were far too many people there for him to spot Harry so easily.

"S-sold! To number forty-two for fifty galleons!" the auctioneer said, glancing at the number that appeared in the air. "You may collect him at the south end of the coliseum. Next up is, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy!"

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron whispered, "Did you just..."

"I reckon he did," Neville said, awed.

"What for?" asked Ron. "Gonna have him clean Grimmauld Place with his toothbrush? I reckon he should do basically everything for you for the rest of summer. Fifty galleons, blimey, Harry."

"Not sure what I'll use him for yet. I just sort of felt like buying him," Harry said, and it was the truth. He had no clue why he bought Malfoy but he reckoned he might as well have the bloke help clean Grimmauld. Never mind that Malfoy would not be able to use magic so it would take forever. "How long do I get to keep him for?"

"Rest of the summer I think, so about 3 months," Neville supplied.

At the end of the auction Harry went to collect his purchase. He paid for Malfoy and signed all the necessary documents. He even got a receipt. While he waited, he saw Blaise Zabini standing with Narcissa Malfoy as she signed a few papers. The man sent a glare in his direction. Perhaps he was the other bidder. Well it seemed that at least one of the Death Eaters might get fairly good treatment then. If any of them deserved it, it was her. When the door opened Malfoy was escorted... well, manhandled really... to Harry's side, his eyes locked onto his mother's until he came to a halt. When he looked at Harry his eyes widened in shocked and a moment later they narrowed with suspicion.

"Potter," Malfoy whispered, as a Ministry official held out a quill for him to sign the papers with.

"That's Master Potter to you."

Potter's house was filthy. It was also the Black family home but Draco found himself less inclined to care about that the more he saw just how dilapidated the residence was. After they arrived Potter had escorted him to a bedroom down the hall from his own. It was not small but it was almost as filthy as the rest of the house was. It reeked of dust and dirt and Draco could see traces of Salazaar knew what stained on the floorboards. He worked his jaw discreetly and stepped into the room to get a look at the bed. The sheets were moth eaten and mouldy and he feared what the bare mattress would look like.

"Am I really expected to live in here?" he asked. He could do it, he knew he could, but moving from one area of detritus to the other was not appealing. The Manor had been in a rubbish state since the Dark Lord had claimed it as his headquarters, the Ministry had kept the Death Eaters in a prison he was sure violated health regulations, and now this.

"It's only three months, Malfoy. You can handle it," said Potter. "Now, you can put the few things they allowed you in your room while I tell you what you'll be doing first. I've got some Doxycide and I can spell your coveralls so that the Doxies won't be able to bite you, and you'll need to fumigate the house. I'll be out but there's food in the fridge if you'd like and Kreacher keeps the kitchen in a good state. He can show you how to work the stove."

"Doxies," he said. Potter was mad. How in Merlin's name did Potter let the place become this run down? Moreover, how did the house elf let it become like this?

"Doxies. Problem, Malfoy?" Potter asked, looking as if he did not ask Draco to rid the entirety of his house of Doxies, the venomous little vermin.

Of course there's a problem, Potter."Not at all," he said. He had gotten used to doing things he did not want to during the war, carrying out absurd requests, putting aside his dignity. He could rid a house of Doxies if he had to. And he had to. Potter had paid for ownership of him for three months after all.

"Good. You'll start tomorrow –and watch out for boggarts. There are... well a lot of them really. Now, I'll show you to the kitchen and the bathroom and you should be set."

The next morning Draco was up early, well he would have had to have fallen asleep for that to be true. He had spent most the night trying to find somewhere suitable to sleep in his room. He was not going to use that bed. He had thrown the sheets into a corner, tossed the pillows aside and examined the mattress. He had been correct in thinking that the mattress itself would be in a dreadful state. He had then hoisted it up, dragged it to one side of the room and leaned it against a wall that he had moved furniture away from. After that he had huddled all of the furniture before the mattress and covered them with the sheets so that he could have floor space on the other side of the room.

He then checked the sturdiness of the bed itself and it seemed stable enough. He pushed the bed around so that one side would be against a wall, he would lay a cloak on it and then sleep there. When he finished moving the bed he saw serpentine flames coming from underneath it. Fiendfyre. It surged towards him and he stumbled back before noticing a hand reaching towards him, as if someone was clawing their way out. Draco froze the moment he realized whose hand it was, his mother's. By now she was visible and she was burning and in agony, her skin searing and her flesh as well. Then his mother's form changed into his father's and Draco choked back a sob. Boggart, he thought, but that did not stop him from feelingwhat he was watching. His heart felt as if it was being crushed and ripped out of his chest and his throat felt as though someone was constricting it. He curled his knees up to his chest, not quite knowing when he had sunk to the ground, and bowed his head. He was wandless so what could he do? Potter was asleep and after the last two years he had learned not to harass someone in their slumber. The other Death Eaters had not taken kindly to disturbances. So he sat there and he waited, chanting in his mind that it was only a boggart that was before him and ignoring the nearly real smell of burning flesh and sounds of tortured screams.

At some point during his rocking on the floor it struck him that he could wait out the night in the hallway and then opted to do just that. After a while the tears stopped and his hands no longer trembled. Long after that the sun had begun to rise and leak sunlight into the hallway.

Harry stretched as he walked to the bathroom but paused when he saw Malfoy sitting in the hallway. The man looked as if he was asleep. Harry was swiftly proven wrong though, as Malfoy's eyes snapped open and locked onto Harry almost instantly. The man's body straightened and he had an unusual awareness about him.

"Don't like beds?" he asked flatly. He knew the room was not the best in the house. It was dusty and grimy and he needed to throw a few cleaning charms its way, but one night should not have been so difficult to withstand that Malfoy would rather sleep in the corridor.

"Boggart in the room," Malfoy replied, as he got up. He still wore the coveralls he came in and the way it swallowed him reminded Harry vaguely of having only Dudley's old clothes to use as his own. Malfoy looked horrendous.

Harry sighed and redirected himself to the room he had given Malfoy. "Where?"

"Bed."

Sure enough there was a boggart under the bed. Harry knew that the moment he saw an image of Teddy lifeless on the floor. He banished the boggart and after casting a few quick cleaning charms he exited the room, giving Malfoy a nod before heading to the bathroom to shower, Harry not once wondering what form the boggart took for Malfoy, or how long he had endured it.

Near the end of Harry's breakfast Malfoy came downstairs and went to fix himself a cuppa before sitting down and taking some toast and jam. He wore a long sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers as well as some socks. His hair was less messy than when Harry bought him but still more of a mess than he could recall ever seeing during Hogwarts.

After breakfast he charmed Malfoy's clothes so that the Doxies could not bite him through them and cast a Bubble-Head Charm so that the man would not inhale the Doxycide. Once that was done Harry left the house to visit Andromeda, and then later on, to visit the Weasley's.

Draco's arms and shoulders hurt. He had fumigated the bottom floor and was halfway through the second. The Doxies were in nearly every curtain he came across, as well as a variety of other places. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension in his muscles and closed his eyes in an effort to stop himself from swaying. He was hungry.

It was the middle of the night and Draco had managed to convince Kreacher to remove the Bubble-Head Charm from his person. He was in the kitchen having some tea, after having to fiddle with the Muggle stove contraption, and had settled for eating an egg and toast. He fared a lot better than he had expected to in terms of actually frying the egg. He was surprised he had even managed to usethe stove. The elf had to tell him how to operate it of course, and it took him several attempts.

He sat back and closed his eyes, wondering how his parents were doing at the moment. His mother had been bought off by Blaise and would be treated more than graciously. He had no clue where his father was though, and Draco felt his chest constrict at the thought of just how many people wanted Lucius dead and how many of them had just had the opportunity to buy him. He sighed and finished his meal half-heartedly before heading to the loo.

He was clean and he was less tense than he felt a moment earlier, though still tense enough. Draco spat into the sink and then rinsed his mouth clean of the toothpaste. He heard movement downstairs and assumed that Potter had returned home. He took in a deep breath and gathered all the emotional discipline he had acquired during Occlumency training before dressing and leaving the loo. When he came out of the bathroom Potter had just made it up the stairs. Something was off though. The moment the other man got near enough to him he knew what it was. Potter was drunk. He reeked of alcohol. Potter had also pinned Draco to the wall with a flick of his wand. Tonight felt as if it would be another long one.

"Why'd you have to do it, Malfoy?" Potter hissed at him. Draco had to reprimand himself for wondering what it would be like to hear the man speak parseltongue. "Why did you have to let them in? Do you know how many people died because of that? Because you helped him, because you did nothingto try and stop him."

He gave Potter no reply. He knew all the motives behind what he had done and why he had done it. He also knew that many lives were lost and families torn apart because his actions gave the Dark Lord enough leverage to move forwards. Once Hogwarts had been taken over one of the brightest beacons of hope the Wizarding world had left had been put out. To make matters worse the impenetrable fortress had been infiltrated by a mere boy. He was a catalyst and he knew it, but he had done it not just for himself but for his family, not that it served them much good at the moment. Most times he was sick with the guilt of it. That and all the other unthinkable things he had done, forced or not.

"Do you know how many people I lost? How many people that were close to me whose corpses I watched lying on the ground, broken and bloodied?" Potter yelled, while his hands fisted Draco's shirt. "Remus, Tonks, Fred."

Draco did not look at him, he could not. Not with the guilt and the hate and the disgust that bubbled inside of him. Guilt for what he had done and caused, hate for the cowardice inside of him, disgust at just how pathetic he was and that he had once been foolish enough to believe in all those things he now found revolting.

"Do you know how many of our classmates and friends died in that war?" the other man screamed at him.

He closed his eyes. Of course he knew.

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, say something! Saysomething! Or you could at least have the decency to look at me!" Potter yelled, before he stepped back from him and waited for a response. Once he realized Draco would say nothing he spoke in a softer, dangerously aggravated tone, "Part of me wanted to think that you had refused to identify me because you had a conscience and knew that nothing good would have come from it. But you don't do you? You're just a scared little boy who doesn't care for anyone but himself." And then Potter struck him across the face. Part of him wondered what had taken so long.

Draco's head snapped to the side painfully and there was a throbbing where the fist had connected with his cheek bone. He looked at Potter, who stood before him with anger in his eyes. "I didn't peg you for a violent drunk... Master Potter" he said, knowing full well that he should have kept the thought to himself. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment.

Potter lunged forwards, his hand grabbing Draco's neck tightly, "Don't stand there and judge me after all the things you've done," Potter spat. He backed away and surprisingly did not strike Draco again. The man huffed and swore as he turned to go to his room. Draco kept his eyes to the ground. He reckoned he would stay there until morning. Perhaps it would have helped if he had maintained the obedience he had acquired while at the Manor.

His head was pounding. Harry groaned and rolled out of the bed before fumbling around for his glasses and summoning a hangover potion. He downed the contents and cursed himself for imbibing so much alcohol. He had gone over to the Weasley's and told Ginny that he thought it was too soon for him to decide whether or not he thought resuming their relationship was what he really wanted, though what he really wanted to say was that he was possibly gay and needed to figure that out, before having a drink, well a number of drinks, with Ron. He was not quite sure what happened after that but he was home and he was uninjured so he reckoned everything was fine.

Harry scratched his head as he went to fetch some clothes before heading to the shower. He vaguely wondered how much of the house the spoiled prat managed to fumigate yesterday. When he stepped out his room though all he could wonder was why Malfoy was magically pinned to the wall near the bathroom. As had happened the previous day Malfoy heard him and looked his way, though this time those grey eyes looked a fair bit emptier.

"Would you like to have another go at me?" Malfoy asked tiredly.

Harry wondered what the man was talking about.

"Don't remember? Were you that drunk? I'm actually offended that you forgot the rather valid diatribe you gave me last night. I reckon I deserved the punishment though, all things considered."

"What?" he asked, as he went to get a good look at Malfoy. The man's face was bruised. "Ah..." Had he really been that pissed?

"My apologies. I'm a bit out of sorts. Could you let me down, please? I need to use the loo."

Harry frowned at the change of tone but nodded and released Malfoy from the spell. The man stumbled before he caught his balance.

What the fuck did he do last night?

He watched as the blonde rubbed his wrists and trudged to the bathroom. His muscles were probably stiff from being pinned to the wall all night. Harry sighed and went to use the loo downstairs. When he caught a glimpse of a curtain in the library however he went and examined it. Malfoy had done a fairly good job getting rid of the Doxies. As he headed to the loo he wondered once more how far along the bloke had gotten yesterday.

For breakfast Harry asked Kreacher to make him sausages and eggs, along with some toast. He was nearing the end of his meal when Malfoy came inside, his hair dripping onto his shoulders and clinging to the sides of his face. He wore a deep blue jumper and black trousers. The blonde went over to the hob and set a frying pan down before turning it on. Harry reckoned Kreacher had told him how to use it, despite the fact that the elf absolutely hatedthe appliance. Malfoy fried himself an egg and made some toast while Harry sat and watched.

Once he finished cooking Malfoy made to leave the kitchen but Harry stopped him. He would eat in the kitchen for all his meals. Harry did not want crumbs and bits of food lying around the house. There were already enough magical pests about, no need to attract the usual ones as well. Malfoy sat reluctantly at the table and ignored Harry as he ate, rather slowly at that.

"How much of the house do you have left to fumigate?" he asked, when Malfoy was half-way through his egg sandwich. The man managed to make eating look like a task.

The blonde finished chewing his food and swallowed before he replied. "I have half of the second floor and the entire third floor left."

"Right, well, once you've finished with that I want you to scrub the floors. They seem a bit resistant to cleaning spells," he said. Truth be told, if he had not bought Malfoy hewould have been cleaning the floors. Harry did not particularly want to have to go through the painstaking task of doing that, not considering the surface area he would have to cover, the stress the past year had put on him and how bloody often the Dursley's had made him scrub their ruddy house clean.

Malfoy looked as if he was expecting the extra work and nodded in acknowledgment before returning to his meal.

"Verbal responses would be appreciated," he said, knowing Malfoy would read it as the command that it was. He had had no intention of having the man spend a night stuck to a wall but that was done and Harry would move on and try to avoid lashing out like that again. That did not mean he would soften the way he treated the Malfoy though.

He rose from his seat and stretched. "I'll have Kreacher cast the necessary spells on you once you've finished eating. And I rather hope you don't take as long with that half as you did the first. You have a fair amount of work to do." With that said Harry went and fetched his things, gave Kreacher his instructions and headed off to visit Andromeda before he went to the Ministry. They were holding trials for those suspected of aiding the Death Eaters and he wanted to speak up for Xenophilius Lovegood.

Draco rolled his shoulders as he paused in his fumigating. His limbs were aching from both the labour of the previous day and the position he had held for the night. He closed his eyes and shook his head to bring himself back to awareness. He had begun to stare off into space. Draco resumed his work, spraying the Doxicide and then collecting the creatures that fell, paralyzed. He rather unwisely let his thoughts wander as he worked.

After what happened the previous night he had thought long and hard about how he should behave while living with Potter. While he was in no way going to be subject to some of the things the Dark Lord had done -things he could hardly recall at times because of how deeply he had buried them- he was still going to suffer some sort of ill treatment. He was living with Potter after all, his long time rival and the one who had the Dark Lord looming over his entire life. Draco doubted the man could have come out of that unscathed. The way he had nearly killed Draco in sixth year was proof enough of that, not to mention what had happened the previous night.

So he had decided to reinforce his walls. They had begun to weaken once the Dark Lord was defeated. They should not have, he knew, but his greatest threat had been handled and the natural reflex to hold them there had died down a great deal. So now Draco would once again lock away his complaints, his emotions and his pride as best he could. There would always be an instance when he slipped up, there always was, but for the most part he would survive his new master the way he had the last. He would shut down as best he could. He would do what he was told. He would ask no questions.

Draco could admit that he had slipped up in the hallway earlier that morning when he had seen Potter- I should think of him as Master Potter if I'm going to revert to that mentality. But from now on he would maintain his calm and simply complete his tasks as told. At least he would not have to torture anyone and pretend he could stomach it, when really he was squirming in his bones. He quickly shoved those memories to the back of his mind. They would do him no good.

Not even half way through the third floor Draco began to feel the beginnings of hunger in his stomach. He sighed to himself as he swung a closet door open. He would eat once he was-

Flames leapt at him in the shapes of snakes and dragons. He leapt back, tripping over his foot and falling to the ground as he yelled in fright. Once again he was face to face with his parents as they burned in front of him. Another boggart then, but this time both his parents were visible at once. His father barked at him to save his mother while she reached out for him. It had to be more than... more than one...

Just boggarts.

His parents were burning.

Not really there.

They were screaming at him.

Mother's safe at Blaise's. She's...

She was wailing.

I don't know where father is... He could be...

He was searing.

He tried to get up, to leave, to flee down the stairs. He could not. His parents flanked him and so did the fire. He sat there trembling as he curled into himself. Tears burned his eyes and he shut them tight. His parents carried on asking him for help even though there was nothing he could do to help them. He covered his ears.

He muttered apologies.

He begged for forgiveness.

Harry sighed as he left the club with Ron and Hermione. A good few weeks had passed since he had broken things off with Ginny and while he had not told his friends about his extremely probable homosexuality, he was looking for ways to explore it. He had one major problem though.

His fame.

The fact that the war had ended a little over two months ago did nothing to help that either. He had been steadily receiving more attention as the days went by.

The papers would print articles about him whenever he went out. For instance, all the trials he spoke at, or simply sat in on, had been on the front of every newspaper but the Quibbler. If he went shopping in Diagon Alley he was subject to flashes from cameras and requests for autographs or hugs. A few people even proposed to him. He had no privacy except within his own home, and then only Kreacher and Malfoy happened to be there and they were not exactly what he would consider options. Well, Kreacher was not. Malfoy, perhaps, was useful. Maybe Harry could find some way to utilize him for something other than just household chores.

When he went home he headed straight for the blonde's room. He knocked on the door and went inside, because really the knock was just a courtesy. Malfoy was already sitting up when Harry spotted him. His hair was mussed and his shirt was crumpled but his eyes were lucid, as if he had not been asleep. Lucid as the man's eyes were though, they were lifeless. They had been that way since some time after the wall incident. At first he had found it odd not to see that hateful glint in the man's eyes, or hear the various quips he used to give, but with all the excess attention Harry had, he found the indifference rather tolerable.

"Good, you're up," he said, as he turned on the lights. Malfoy winced and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sharp change in light. "I've got something I want you to do for me."

"Yes, Master Potter?" the man replied, as he swung his legs over the bed. Harry had even gotten used to being called Master. Hermione did not quite like it.

"Stay there would you," he said, as he walked over. He took a seat beside the man. "Now, just... just stay there, okay?"

Malfoy nodded and repeated his original response, but this time as an affirmative.

"Right," Harry mumbled, as he shifted closer to the man.

Looking at Malfoy now, Harry could see that he was tired and still too thin, if not more thin. He was not sure. His eyes were hollowed and his skin had pallor. The man probably needed to get some sun, and food, maybe some rest. Harry briefly wondered how he had not noticed that before but then forgot about all that when his eyes landed on the man's lips, chapped though they were.

He licked his lips and leaned in slowly, more for himself than Malfoy, and tentatively pressed his lips to the blonde's. Malfoy did not move. Harry pulled back and concentrated on how he felt. He was nervous, but that was normal. He had been nervous since he had sat on the bed. He leaned forwards once more and kissed the man again, lightly, slowly. Apart from being chapped, the man's lips were no different than a girl's.

"Kiss me," he said quietly, between his kisses. If Malfoy just sat there this would be pointless.

Harry nearly told Malfoy to kiss him again before the man finally moved his lips. Harry felt a small flutter in his stomach as he thought to himself, I'm kissing a bloke. He abruptly pulled back at the sensation.

"Have I done something wrong, Master Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"No," he said. He leaned in again and pressed their lips together. "Carry on."

He tilted his head to get a better angle and wet Malfoy's lips with his tongue before he began to explore the man's mouth. Malfoy sat there and kissed him back and took whatever he gave him, and rather well at that.

Once he was satisfied with the experiment Harry pulled back and licked his lips. Malfoy watched him with parted lips but said nothing. Harry was glad for that. He nodded and got up, not quite sure what to do with himself, then headed for the door. Before he turned the lights off and left, he turned back to the man.

"That'll be all, Malfoy," he said. "And, I'll be adding that and more to your chores... How do you feel about that?"

"... Sex is sex," the blonde said.

And with that Harry nodded and left, to go to his room.