The only thing Draco couldn't handle was his lust. It wasn't the war that bothered him—it was the torturous lust, his empty bed. And although he suppressed it, he knew exactly what he needed—who he needed.

Just as he had disappeared out of Potter's life during their sixth year, he knew exactly how to reenter it without disturbing anything.

He was at a local pub that night, a Muggle one, mind you. The bar full of crazy sports-fans, yelling and hollering at a small box with moving pictures inside it (and they thought Wizards were weird?), following a seemingly important match between two ridiculously-dressed teams, boringly passing the ball to one another. Draco sighed and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. He had taken a liking to the drink—it was the only thing Muggles were good for.

Even if the Muggles did notice him, they likely weren't going to say anything to him, obviously. The pub was full of weirdoes; take, for example, the man sitting in the corner of the bar, his eyes blearing as he ordered shouts of drinks over and over again. He had pierced nose, and chains and things as ridiculous as that hanging off his all-black attire. To Draco, he seemed like the man had come from a funeral—though, it was beyond him why anyone would go to a funeral with so many … accessories, for the lack of the better word.

Suddenly, the entrance swung open, introducing a bunch of odd-looking bunch (wasn't that a surprise?). They were all wearing … robes? Oh dear. This could be complicated. If anyone from the wizarding world found him here, the Dark Lord would, quite literally, raise hell.

And then what he saw next through him off balance so that he almost fell off his chair.

"Hey Scar-head," he drawled before he could stop himself. Stop! he was telling himself. Stop while you can! "Fancy seeing you here."

Potter whirled around so quickly, Draco heard his neck make a small crack, which couldn't have been good at all. "Malfoy," Potter breathed, narrowing his eyes.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through his body, Draco smirked. "Miss me, did you?"

"Why you—" But Potter stopped himself just in time, smiling nervously at a few Muggles who had abandoned watching the sports game to pursue a far more entertaining one. Potter nodded nervously to his companions in robes, and sent them out of the bar again.

To his horror, Potter took a seat next to Draco's. "What the hell do you think you're doing Malfoy?!" he shouted in a whisper, eyeing Draco like a hawk.

"Having a drink, Pothead," Draco motioned to his beer, surprised how serene and smooth his own voice was. "Unlike you, I have a life."

Potter threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "I meant, where have you been all this time? And oh god … why am I not killing you?"

"Because you are the 'hero' of our world," Draco replied, his mind buzzing comfortably with the booze. "You won't want to go murdering an old schoolmate, now would you? Even though he's a Death Eater."

"Screw you," Potter spat while managing to keep his voice low. "You're coming with me."

Draco's lips curled into a nasty smile. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"What are you talking about? Everyone's been looking for you and Snape since you disappeared when Dumbledore— well, when he—"

"Died?" Draco finished the sentence for the young Auror easily, downing the rest of his alcoholic beverage. He always got like this when it came to Potter: sarcastic, calm, and witty. It was his only way of concealment, he knew.

"Shut up!" Potter's voice was rising at an alarming rate now. "I don't want to hear you talking about him! You were the one—"

Before Draco could stop himself, his lips were brushing Harry's soft ones. Draco realized Harry smelled of ground coffee and, oddly enough, tobacco.

After eight years of hiding, Draco had finally done something, instead of pouring anger into his apparent attraction to Potter—except, he knew, it wasn't attraction anymore. It was something more like obsession now.

Before Potter had time to react, Draco pulled apart abruptly, Dissapparating into thin year with a soft pop.

Draco Malfoy paced around his empty hotel room, his hear in his throat as he relived every second of what had happened: Potter had walked into the bar; then he wanted to take Malfoy into custody … which led to Draco kissing him?!

Running a hand through his white-blond hair nervously, trying to figure out what to do next. Dammit, he thought. Dammit, I bloody messed up everything, didn't I?

He wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone, on either side of the war. Everyone supposed he was dead in the first place. But he had just screwed everything up, hadn't he? Goddamn the beer!

Draco plopped on his bed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, as if to make every problem that he had just helped create disappear. He wished he would vanish into thin air; that would solve everyone's problems, including his own.

He buried his pale face into the cool white pillows, letting his tears flow for the first time in two or three years. He honestly did not recall the last time he had cried. His dad's words still lingered in his mind, reminding him how real men did not reveal their emotions.

But he didn't want to hide anything anymore. He wanted to let Potter know everything, how he felt about him. Hell … he wanted Potter so badly, he would pay him.

Malfoy groaned from the thought of making Potter a man-whore, rolling to his side. He had thought his desires had disappeared a while ago.

"Seemingly not," Draco said aloud, trying to wipe the image of him and Potter being a couple out of his mind for the hundredth time.

By and by, he fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams waking him every now and then.

Crash!

Draco sat up in his bed, startled. In the dark, the outline of a hooded figure approached him. Malfoy stumbled to the floor in a futile attempt to locate his wand.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded, his voice trembling.

"The Tooth Fairy," a familiar voice taunted right before the room was illuminated with a lumos.

"Harry!" Malfoy exhaled with relief. Despite the fact that he was blushing vividly for making a fool of himself, he was greatly revealed it was just Harry. Although he was sure that now Potter would surely murder him.

"Why'd you do it Malfoy?" Harry's voice was a threatening whisper now. "Why the fuck did you kiss me?!" He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he lifted Malfoy off his feet by grabbing his collar, slamming him against the wall. "Do you want to play games, Malfoy? Why do you always manipulate me and other people? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU?!"

Harry's face was about an inch away from Draco's. Malfoy just chose to remain silent; he was done with fighting back for what he didn't believe in. He was done with playing games.

"Do you want to play games, Malfoy?" Potter said in an eerily calm tone. "Because two can play the game."

He slammed the blonde's frail torso against the wall once more, jamming his mouth on Malfoy's with such force, tears encircled Draco's eyes. He only seemed to calm down when Draco put his hands around his broad shoulders.

"No more games," Draco whispered. "No more games, Harry. I can't take it anymore."

Draco stood up on tiptoes to reach the Gryffindor's height, his arms encircling Harry's neck as he tenderly kissed him. He loved Harry's smell, he loved everything about him.

Surprisingly, Harry responded back (thank God, gently this time), his hand traveling down Draco's pants.

"Nnn…" Draco let out a soft groan as he felt Harry's hand inside his pants. He had often dreamed about this moment, but never thought it would come true.

Another minutes passed as exchanged saliva in a passionate silence. "Harry," he panted. "Please…"

Harry, Draco knew, didn't need to be begged twice. In a moment, all their clothes were strewn all over Malfoy's hotel room, as the brunette almost threw the blonde to the bed.

"Malfoy," he breathed as he straddled the blonde by the hips. "Goddamn you. This is for all the fucking years we lost."

Draco smiled maliciously in the dark of the room. "Then make up for it, won't you?"

Without hesitation, the brunette boy entered Malfoy, making Draco feel like he'd been split in half. I deserve this, probably, the pale boy said to himself as Harry started pumping inside him faster and faster.

The first couple minutes of their love-making were so hungry and ferocious that it reminded Draco of animals during mating season. But when Harry calmed down a bit, they resumed their kissing.

The young Malfoy could hardly believe what was happening. One minute he was afraid for his life, the next he was kissing the Boy Who Lived. All these years, all these years of waiting had come down to this one day.

"M-more," Draco caught his breath and let out a soft groan that was lingering in the back of his throat.

He heard Harry chuckle. "With pleasure."

The pulls and thrusts became quicker and the blonde thought he would die of sexual pleasure right then and there. Was Potter good at every damn thing he did?

Harry's pants came out audibly now as he pulled Draco closer. Draco he did not have any control over any part of his body at all anymore. Then the brunette came inside of Malfoy with a loud moan.

He faced Draco in the dark. "Your turn." He left trails of wet kisses down Draco's pale skin, making the blonde twitch as his tongue brushed over the nipples.

The young Malfoy inhaled sharply as Harry's tongue flicked his dick ever-so skillfully, making him shiver uncontrollably. He knotted his fingers through the brunette's soft hair.

Harry sucked at his manhood, and Draco felt so insecure, so naked (well, he was). He had hid everything from everybody all his life. His parents never approved of anything than the orthodox manner of things. He was sort of happy they were dead (what a purely Slytherin thing to say); he was now not limited to anyone, or anything. He had Harry, now. Hopefully … hopefully this was more than just a one-night stand.

With that thought, he shot his semen down Harry's throat with a shudder.

"Oh god," was all he managed to say before sinking between the cool sheets of the bed.

"Well, I just lost my virginity…" Harry muttered irately, "to a guy."

"I'm sorry," Malfoy apologized, trying to hide his shock concealed. Potter a virgin? It seemed absurd. But his heart sank at the same time; he knew where this was going. Potter was going to leave him.

"Idiot," Potter said. "You know I'm a Legiliment, don't you?"

"No," Malfoy smirked. "I thought you stayed hopeless since fifth year. You continue to surprise me, Potter."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry swatted at Draco's arm teasingly. "You're still an idiot. You'd think I'd leave you after this?"

"Well, a lot of people have."

"So I take you weren't a virgin before this?"

"Come, come Potter! I am not a Gryffindor after all."

"I like that about you, actually."

"Then stop sounding so hurt, Scarhead."

"Stop calling me that, Malfoy!"

"Stop calling me Malfoy, then. I'd feel like you were doing my father instead."

"I'm going to take a moment to cleanse my mind from that very disturbing image."

"You're right. My apologies."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So what if I hadn't seen you tonight? What would've happened?"

"You would've married the Weasel Girl after announcing to the whole Wizarding World that you had eradicated the Dark Lord. It would've been a perfect hero story. Heh, not if I could help it."

"God, I cannot imagine myself with Ginny at all," Harry said disgustingly. "The whole world seems to think that we're a match or something."

"Well, you do look quite cute together, Potter."

"You never stop, do you? Aren't you afraid I'll dump you?"

Draco kissed Harry sensually on the lips. "Tell me," the blonde said after he pulled away, "how can you resist me after that?"

"Shut up…"