I don't love you.
Summary: Two wrongs don't make a right and saying a lie two times doesn't make it the truth. So what of it?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I simply love him. (and Draco)
"I don't love you" he said through clenched teeth. His partner didn't even respond and merely shrugged. After that they parted ways and proceeded to do their daily business.
Harry sat in the Gryffindor table with his friends, Hermione to his right and Ron on his left. Again the two were having a rather boisterous conversation—argument, rather—over his head, giving the poor boy-who-lived a major headache.
Harry sighed to himself. They fought again. They were going to make up sooner or later—they always did, so he didn't worry. After all, he has spent the last two years watching them fight and make-up, over and over again. He stopped making the effort and refused to interfere with their relationship anymore.
He sighed again; he was going to need him again. He quickly went over his meal and hurried back to the Gryffindor common room to send Hedwig out again. The white owl was flying at lot lately.
He enchanted a parchment with a wave of his hand and let the bird out of his window quietly.
Tonight, it read.
Then he walked off to the baths and came out looking refreshed. It seemed that tonight they would also meet, like the previous night, and the night before that…
He walked into a room he knew very well—no matter what the circumstances, they always met here. He surveyed for a moment before his eyes were set upon his—lover?—and for a moment admired those golden locks.
Though they met many times before, he couldn't help the words coming out from his lips "You came" he muttered, as if half-believing the other wouldn't show. Again his partner said nothing to him and merely looked at his direction with a foxy smirk on his lips.
The gap between them was broken as their lips met seconds later. Instinctively, pale arms wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer. He, in return, encircled the blonde's waist.
Draco moaned; letting his leg fall carelessly off the table's edge as his back touched the wall behind him.
Harry tugged his arms loose and they were now limp on his side. He didn't know where to put them anymore. Tonight Harry needed him.
He let the boy-who-lived ravish his body—again and he purely reciprocated with noises the other boy seemed to like. His body jerked when Harry sucked on a particular sensitive spot near his navel and a shiver ran down his spine whenever Harry caressed him.
During these times the Gryffindor golden boy was different from what they were in public—what they were in the eyes of their housemates and everyone else in the wizarding community. Harry was gentle with him, not like he was made of glass, but something was there.
He let lips worship every inch of skin that was uncovered by clothes, first his neck and later other parts as his clothing one by one disappeared. He shuddered and let out a loud moan when a hand came to lift stray stands of hair from his face... but what made him want to come was the piercing emotion in those green pools staring at him.
Tonight he was different; he wanted to see and feel what Harry was doing to him, to his body. Hands roamed his stomach as his shirt was almost ripped open; those same hands caressed his arms but never moved to fully remove his top; lastly he sucked in his breath as Harry hands teased him through the material of his trousers.
Oh god, that made him moan and groaned louder.
Again he watched as those same skillful hands pulled down his offending articles of clothing and stripped his lower half naked. They'd done this numerous times, in many varied occasions, yet just having those green eyes look at him with such lust—made his face flush.
He was excited, he knew. His lower end twitched, already weeping with pre-cum, with anticipation and he wanted his—lover?—to speed the process a bit. Still, he remained silent and said nothing; they didn't talk during these times, they never uttered a word.
Perhaps they were afraid of ruining the mood. In reality they were afraid to let something slip and offend the other; therefore destroying the silent agreement between them. They had sex, yes, but that didn't make them lovers—fuck buddies maybe, but not lovers, never lovers. Because this didn't have love, it had lust and only that.
His eyes transitioned from sultry half-lidded to open wide when lips came to kiss his tip and moments later he was engulfed by a heat that was special from the rest because it was different. It gave him a separated more specific pleasure compared to wanting warmth during a cold winter morning or heat of hot cocoa to fill you stomach. This heat was Harry's mouth on him.
He nudged back as a finger penetrated him. It had been done on many occasions before, yet he still squirmed over it.
Another finger was added, and then another. Three digits were in him now, feeling around inside his ass trying to look for something. Why couldn't Harry find it sooner?
Those fingers slowly curved down and hit something making him arch his back with the pleasure that ran greatly through his system. Harry kept on moving over that spot for sometime before…
"Uugh!" Draco moaned aloud as he was impaled on Harry. Hands immediately flew on his partner's neck and clutched hard as immense waves of pleasure rocked his body.
"Tight" He heard the other mutter.
Draco half-groaned as Harry pounded harder onto him, touching his most private part in the most intimate way. No one else knew him better. No one else knew either of them any better than they did.
His hands gripped those unruly black locks that often fell on Harry face as if trying to reach his release from them and Harry let his hands mold onto Draco's back and his face into Draco's neck. Neither one of them ever admitted that they always had sex facing each other, looking into each other's eyes as they caught their climax.
The aftermath was always worst. They never looked at each other much after that; they had always dressed in silence then went their separate ways.
Harry clutched onto Draco as he came inside him and breathe out one sentence.
"I don't love you"
Draco listened to the words. He'd heard them before. Lifting his face to let his eyes meet with Harry he whispered back "I know" and once again they left their separate ways.
I don't love you, then why is my chest tightening? He sighed.
