A/N: I got bored in math... blame this fic for my GPA being a 3.77 instead of a 4.0.
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Hogsmeade weekends were, in Harry Potter's opinion, the best time of the month.
Well—except for being woken by Ron on Saturday morning.
"Ugh… What time is it?" Harry groaned, trying his best to sound as if he had a cold.
"Nearly ten forty-five, mate. Get up, we've agreed to meet Hermione at eleven." Ron was pulling on his pants and looked much more awake than Harry felt.
"Oh." Harry rolled over, not sure he wanted to be up yet. After all, he had nowhere to be until noon. Couldn't let Ron know that though.
Ron began buttoning his shirt. "Harry, are you coming?"
Harry mentally sighed and lied, "Actually, I don't feel so well. Maybe you two should go on and I'll catch up with you later."
"Do you think you should go to Madam Pomfrey?" Ron looked concerned and Harry felt a shadow of guilt.
"Nah, it's just a cold… As soon as this headache goes away I'll be fine. I might go for some Pepper-Up potion later if it doesn't." Ron still looked concerned and Harry groped for a way to ease it so that he would leave. "I may show up later this afternoon, alright? You two go and have fun. It'll be like going a date, right, just you and her?"
Instantly Ron broke into a smile. "Right, mate, it will! Thanks!" He was out of the room immediately, and Harry felt a bit better about having lied.
After waiting five minutes to be sure no one was going to head back to find something they had forgotten, Harry eased himself out of bed. He had nearly an hour to get ready, but he found himself wanting to look really good today. He showered carefully, getting all the soap out of his hair and scrubbing in all the hard to reach places. He had never worried about how he looked before. He wasn't sure why he was doing it now.
Somehow, despite his efforts, he was nearly certain that it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't matter how good he looked, because, well… that's how it was.
He was right.
"You know, Potter, don't you, that corduroy pants and denim jacket clash horribly?"
Harry stopped in the doorway of the Room of Requirement. His nervousness was rapidly eclipsing his excitement.
There was a sigh from the other occupant of the Room, and he turned, blonde bangs swinging a bit above his perfectly shaped eyebrows. "Oh, for goodness sake, it doesn't matter what you're clothes look like, they'll be coming off shortly anyway."
Harry's excitement level rose again at the look on Draco Malloy's face. He arched his brows and replied, "Oh really?"
Draco walked over until he was nearly touching Harry, caressing his cheek with one hand as he said, "Really Potter," and leaned in to cover Harry's mouth with his.
Draco's kisses always surprised Harry. They were soft and tender where his words were rough and his eyes hungry. Their first kiss had been a battle, an accident that surprised them both and made them fight for dominance. All the others though, were like this, sweet and seductive, telling Harry that he could say no and back away, but he would regret it for the rest of his life.
They stood that way for a while, lips and tongues moving against one another, gently if not lightly. Harry felt he would melt to the floor if something else didn't happen soon, but also that this was perfect and if he had to walk away now, he might be satisfied to wait till next month for more.
Draco sucked lightly on Harry's lower lip for a moment before moving back. "What time does the Weasel expect you?"
The look in his eyes said he hoped it would be a very, very long time, and despite wincing at the nickname used for Ron, Harry had to grin as he replied, "I don't feel well today. I might catch up to them in a few hours… or I might not."
Draco smirked. "Perfect."
The kissing resumed, but this time it was kissing that was definitely going to lead to things that were a lot more fun. Draco's hands seemed to be simultaneously working at the buttons of Harry's shirt and wandering through the hair at the nape of his neck, causing his to moan and squirm at the attack of sensations.
Their bodies pressed close together as they fell onto the massive bed, Harry's shirt and jacket discarded and Draco pants unfastened.
For the next few moments Harry was too busy feeling to keep track of what was happening, but he did note that somehow all of their clothes had come off as Draco's tongue slowly made it's way down his neck, aided by teeth occasionally, although never enough to leave a visible mark.
Desperate to be touching the other boy, Harry ran his hands over Draco's chest and shoulder's, massaging gently. Draco gasped when he brushed a nipple and the burst of hot air hit Harry's collarbone, eliciting as answering moan.
A wet trail of kisses, licks, and nips led Draco down further until he was studiously applying a love bite to Harry's hip while Harry writhed beneath him. Harry could feel Draco's hair tickling his erection and it was driving him mad, but he wasn't certain how to ask for more. Thought seemed to have left him completely.
He nearly groaned in agony as one lone finger traced a pattern up and down the length of his cock, stimulating just enough to make his hips buck upward of their own accord.
Harry could practically feel Draco's smirk as his tongue flicked over to lightly touch Harry's oh-so-sensitive erection.
"Malfoy… please…" He couldn't make anything else come out.
"Yes?" Draco drew his mouth away completely, torturing Harry by forcing him to elaborate.
"I... I need…"
Draco was crawling forward, his body nearly touching Harry's. When they were at eye level, he asked again, "You need?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer but nothing intelligible came out as Draco lowered his body on top of Harry's, causing their cocks to rub together with delicious friction.
"Is this what you need, Potter?" Draco's voice was low and bordered on contemptuous, in a very sexy sort of way.
Harry wished he could have that kind of composure as he gave a small nod.
"Tell me what you need." Draco's whisper was hot breath on his ear that nearly sent Harry into convulsions.
"I… need… I need you, I need all of you, your cock, your lips, your hands, all over me, please, just… please, I need you inside me on me… please…" once Harry got a start he turned into a babbling mess, speaking in rhythm to the thrusts he and Draco were making against one another. He could feel tension building in the pit of his stomach, and knew that he would cum soon if they didn't stop.
Just as he had nearly reached his climax, Draco stopped, leaning over Harry to grab a bottle from the bedside table, whispering, "Whatever you need, then…"
There were slick fingers on him, dragging over his shoulders and down his back, cupping his buttocks and squeezing slightly, causing his to shiver before they finally made it to his entrance and penetrated, one by one, stretching him in the most excruciatingly sweet way.
And then there was nothing for a moment and Harry waited, knowing what was coming, and struggling to remain relaxed while wanting terribly to tense in anticipation.
Draco moved into him slowly, staying in one spot for a moment before Harry squirmed against him, needing more and now completely beyond begging.
For once Draco took his physical hint and began to move, slowly pushing in and out a few times before increasing their rhythm. Both moved as hard and fast as possible, needing release, despite the pain that would surely come afterwards from their hips slamming together, and hands gripping tightly on whatever hold they could find.
Draco's hand found Harry's erection, and there was no teasing now as he fisted him in time with their wild movements. Finally Harry could feel that unavoidable climax upon him and Draco followed close behind, filling him with warmth.
For barely a moment the two lay still, absorbed in the exuberant racing of their hearts and the feeling of one another's chests rising and falling as they breathed heavily with exertion. Then they parted, and Harry felt the shock of cool air against his skin where sweat had been.
Clothes were put back on with silence after a few cleansing charms. This silence used to be awkward but by now was merely accepted. As Draco opened the door to the hallway, Harry called his name.
"Malfoy?"
"Yes?" He wasn't irritable, he couldn't have been after what they had just done, but his tone made it obvious that he didn't want to stick around to chat.
"Next month?" It was silly question, Harry knew the answer. They both did.
A smooth, "Of course," rolled off Draco's tongue. And then he was gone, in a flash of blonde hair and black cloak.
Harry watched him go, alone and confused, but unable to stop smiling. After all, it was February the shortest month of the year. The next Hogsmeade weekend was only 28 days away.