(A/N: Rated M for mature language and content.

Just a quickie; a Harry/Draco one-shot.

Warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Language.

Enjoy! :))

"Potter!"

Harry ducks his head and hunches his shoulders at the familiar voice. The familiar pissed voice. He quickly looks left and then right, hoping he can find an exit before it's too late.

"Potter! I know you're in here!"

The voice is closer and Harry can hear a broom being thrown on the ground. He mentally curses and quietly makes his way to the wall near the door and prays to Merlin (and even a few Muggle deities) that he can slip out before he's caught. A hand lands on his shoulder making him jump and a very embarrassing squeaking noise to leave his lips.

He turns and flinches at the angry silver gaze. "I'm sorry?" he tries, going right for the argument ender now might save him some trouble.

Draco scowls and cups a hand behind his ear, like he couldn't possibly have heard Harry. "What was that? Sorry you say? You bet your ass you better be sorry!" He fumes and his hands are up cupping Harry's cheeks a moment later. He mentally sighs with relief when Harry makes no move or flinch at the sudden movement. "Harry..." he trails off, shaking his head. How can he explain himself without sounding like some Hufflepuff or majorly paranoid bastard?

"I really am sorry, Draco," Harry murmurs, his hands coming up to rest over Draco's, his thumbs absently stroking the pale skin. "You have to know I don't go looking for trouble."

He wants to remind the blonde bastard that he's a fully trained Auror for Merlin's sake, but keeps quiet. Draco is aware of that fact and pointing it out would probably only make him snippy for hours, maybe even days. A snippy Draco means no sex. Or hand jobs. Or blow jobs. Or anything but glares and cold tea. He was evil and left no pleasure safe. He also doesn't remind the blonde that he's perfectly safe, he was in and out of St. Mungo's in less than 4 hours. (Draco tends to have irrational moments of temper, still, and he's pretty sure he wouldn't see 4 hours in St. Mungo's as being inconsequential.)

Draco sighs and rests his forehead against Harry's for a long moment. "Yes, I know that, idiot. It doesn't seem to stop it from finding you though does it?" His lips practically fold in on themselves a moment and Harry can just sense Draco willing himself to stay calm. "Is there a good reason I had to find out from Longbottom you were in St. Mungo's?"

Oh. Shit.

"Well, not really a good reason, no," Harry says hesitantly. "I wasn't there long and it wasn't serious, so..." he trails off when he see's Draco's pinched face. "It was no big deal, Draco. Honestly." He stares at Draco and can't help wondering what his problem is. Unfortunately he's said that thought aloud. He wants to cringe when Draco's face flushes and his hands tighten on his face. Oops. Any sense of calm Draco had was gone.

"My problem, Potter, is you."

Harry tries not to be hurt by it but he can't seem to help it. He thought Draco cared; he thought their relationship was more than just the occasional date and lots and lots of great sex. Well, he had certainly thought so. He wants to jerk himself away from the blonde's grip and finish his shower but he just stands there dumbly, trying to breath through that panicky tightness in his chest. He's probably blinking and gaping like a stupid goldfish but he can't find it in himself to care—especially since Draco doesn't. Stupid blonde bastard.

"I see," he finally mumbles.

Draco wants to wince when he sees Harry bright eyes dim and hurt flash through them. He should have known the idiot would misunderstand what he said. He might admit he should have said it differently, possibly not like Harry was something he scraped off his 150 Galleon Dragon hide boots.

After a long moment of silence, Harry is tired of waiting for Draco to say more. "I still don't see what the problem is. I'm fine. I'm alive," he sneers, emphasizing it and briefly puzzles at Draco's wince. "So, why are you interrupting my shower?" he asks, waving a hand at his nearly nude body, covered only in a white towel tucked in at the hip.

Draco bites his lip and tries to keep his eyes off Harry's nearly naked body. He really tries. When he finally speaks, he's barely aware he's addressing Harry's towel covered crotch, his mind gleefully giving him helpful images of what's under the fluffy white material.

"I, well, the problem as it is—" He huffs out a frustrated breath and drags a hand through his hair. His eyes are still on Harry's towel-covered crotch, so he doesn't see Harry's raised brows or amused grin as the other man looks at the mussed blonde strands. "Fuck," he swears angrily. "You. That's the only way I can explain it, Harry. I was mental when they said you'd been taken to St. Mungo's. I'm sure Longbottom thought I seriously was going to hex him at any moment." He snorts and shakes his head. "I panicked," he finishes quietly, finally looking up. He blinks a few times, taking in Harry's confused expression, before scowling a little.

How could the prat not understand that? He is truly not that dense...

"What? Why?" Harry asks, his brows furrowing in confusion. Surely Draco doesn't care? He's always scoffed at Harry when accused of such a thing in the past (he even flipped Harry off when accused of such a thing—which Harry took as an invitation and did as the gesture implied).

Draco throws his hands up, "Well, I didn't know what the problem was, now did I?"

Harry snorts. "Well, if you didn't demand a partner switch 5 months ago, you would have known." He wants to cringe at the hard look Draco gives him but he does, just stares back defiantly because it's true (and Draco has to know that).

Once they started dating, Draco had demanded a new partner and Harry was still upset about it. There weren't any (specific) rules stating they couldn't date and he always thought they'd worked exceptionally well together—after they stopped acting like immature, brawling schoolboys—and he didn't want to end over a year of solid partnership. They could both cast hexes and curses faster than either could blink and they always seemed to know where the other was so it was always easy to cover each other.

He worked well enough with Neville (and Draco didn't kill Seamus yet), but he missed the easy way things just flowed with Draco. Truth be told, he also missed being able to sneak off together and no one wondering where they went. He couldn't do that will Neville... and it would probably shock poor Neville speechless if Harry were to lead him into the nearest supply closest with a hand on his belt.

Draco takes a deep breath and smooths his hands through his mussed hair in an attempt to fix it. He could feel it out of place and it was making him twitchy. "Right. That still doesn't help the fact that I had no idea why you were there or what state you were in. I hear that you're chasing some Dark Arts artifact dealer and the next is you're in St. Mungo's. I—" He cuts himself off and slams his hand on the wall besides Harry's head, again pleased when he only sees anger and confusion in Harry's eyes and not fear. It had taken awhile for Harry to be so relaxed around sudden movements, regardless of who made them.

"Dammit, Harry I was so scared." He mutters.

Harry blinks, anger and confusion puffing away, and a smile slowly stretches across his face. "Why, Draco Malfoy, it sounds like you... care about me?" he intones.

Draco tries to look affronted but he actually nods, affecting a sad voice. "Fuck if I know why, Potter."

Harry doesn't answer, he really can't. His throat is blocked by some lump he doesn't remember trying to swallow and his chest is feeling way too squirmy so he just makes some sort of sound deep in his throat and pulls the blonde flush against him before he practically devours his mouth. Draco's hands immediately come up to fist in his dark hair and he moans softly in appreciation. He's missed seeing Draco in the showers and his cock is immediately at attention when he remembers the last time they'd shared the department shower.

"Draco," he mumbles against the puffy but perfectly pink lips. He wiggles against Draco's front.

"What, Potter?" he nearly snarls, pissed at Harry for interrupting. He gets his answer a moment later when Harry vanishes his clothing and smirks at him. "Merlin," he breathes before his mouth latches onto Harry's neck, biting and licking a line down to his collarbone. His hands yank away Harry's towel, and then travel all over Harry's body. He doesn't care if Harry knows he's checking him over, making sure he's OK. He sighs when he can finally wrap his hand around Harry's erection.

"I don't appreciate you finding some way to make me care, Potter," he murmurs against one pebbled brown nipple. He gently bites it, thrilled at the breathy moan Harry makes. "This is the kind of Gryffindor nonsense that causes wrinkles," he mutters with a petulant whine in his voice.

But Harry doesn't care. Draco can whine and suck and lick at the same time. Draco is wonderful like that. Talented, really. He arches into Draco, hoping the blonde will shut up and get on with it. He doesn't.

"And really, Potter—" Draco continues, leaning back to glare at Harry for a moment. Harry wiggles and makes a protesting sound, but at least Draco's hand is slowly stroking along his cock. Finally—the bloody tease. "You really live to far away. It's a massive pain in the ass to go that far whenever I want you."

Harry gasps, both from the slick finger circling between his cheeks and Draco's last words. "Draco, are you—" He pauses to moan loudly when one of Draco's fingers slide into him, a wandless lubrication charm easing the way. He grunts, his hips arching. "—saying I should move in with you?" His hips buck again when Draco starts to piston his finger in and out of him, adding a second finger. Instead of words, a blonde head dips and a wet tongue twirls around the tip of Harry's leaking cock before Draco deigns to answer.

"Merlin's saggy left bullock, this isn't the best time to talk about moving in together," Draco says airily—like he wasn't the one that brought it up or like he couldn't care about the answer. He focuses on adding another finger inside Harry but the git just won't shut up. He nearly frowns; he's not doing a very good job distracting Harry. Or shutting him up.

"You started it, you bastard!"

Draco smirks when Harry's last word dies into a gasping shrieking moan as he slams his fingers against Harry's prostate. He can find it without effort and he loves to watch Harry fall apart from the shear pleasure when he rubs and strokes against it. He doesn't give Harry a chance to recover, quickly sliding his cock in to replace his fingers. Harry clenches tight around him and he moans as his hips jerk.

"Fuck," he pants. He pauses for a moment, waiting tensely. He leans down to capture Harry's lips in a wet messy kiss and fists Harry's cock a few times. Harry's back arches again and he has to grit his teeth so he doesn't embarrass himself by coming so soon. Finally, Harry breathes out and glares up at him, his green eyes dark.

"Fuck, Draco. Move. Now."

"Certainly," Draco replies cheekily and carefully starts to move his hips. It doesn't take long before Harry is shouting demands (mainly "more" "faster" and "harder") which are happily met. He isn't sure how much longer he can last when Harry wraps his legs around his hips, drawing him closer and impossibly deeper. He can feel his orgasm fast approaching and he was hoping to make Harry come without having to wank him off. He loves when he can do that; Harry always arches so beautifully and the sounds he makes would make Draco's cock explode if he wasn't already nestled firmly in him.

He doesn't realize words of love and affection are pouring from his mouth as he swirls and pistons his hips. Harry's whole body clenches for a moment before his cock erupts between their bodies, spattering their bellies and chests with sticky come. Draco lets go and comes hard, with a shout that sounds like "Harry" before he flops bonelessly onto Harry's chest. He's sweaty and sticky and can't be moved to care at the moment.

Harry's arms come up to circle around Draco. "I know this is the worst time to ask this—" He pauses and grins when he can feel Draco tense, "But did you by any chance lock the door when you came in here?"

Draco makes a choked sound and his eyes dart to the door. "No," he says simply. Well fuck. He finds the energy to pick up his head and look around. "I don't think anyone came in though."

Harry snickers. "I don't think so. And besides, if they came in after hearing what was going on, who's to care?"

He wants to laugh at Draco's scandalized face but he bites the inside of his cheek instead. People thought he was some exhibitionist but Draco is surprisingly prudish about sex; well, once they get down to it's he's very uninhibited but he doesn't like public displays of any kind. He only recently was comfortable kissing in public, after allowing hand-holding or accepting a more than friendly hug. Harry was not at fault when his hands wandered to his ass to squeeze or fondle, it was just too tempting. And perfect.

"Anyway," Harry says, coming out of his reverie. "As to what you said before; I agree completely."

Draco frowns and almost looks up. "To?"

"Moving in together."

Draco wants to argue just because that's what they do or to say Harry misunderstood or Harry is an idiot Gryffindor. He didn't though and this way, he can get exactly what he wants and he didn't even really have to ask. Not really. He makes a mental note to ask Harry important things whenever he's got his cock in his mouth. He's amazingly perceptive at that time.

"Whatever, Potter. I refuse to have anything Gryffindor red, so I will Incendio anything you try to bring in the door."

Harry just smiles and hugs him tighter. "Sure, fine."

the end.