It all started one sunny, insufferable day.
The Golden Trio's seventh year summer was full of heat that reached deep inside the castle of Hogwarts. Hermione's hair had frizzed past its usual point and Ron looked awkward in Harry's tight muggle clothes - a simple white t-shirt and shorts. Harry himself kept pushing his mop of black hair back, the tendrils heavy with sweat.
The three made their way near the Lake on the school's grounds, where students of every house had flocked - in muggle clothes or light, short robes, some even attempting to swim with the giant squid in the lake itself.
Hermione's face flushed bright red as Ron pulled off the tight shirt that he'd already soaked through with sweat.
"Ron, do you really think thats appropriate?"
Ron simply sprawled across the green grass and flicked Harry's sandals.
"Your shoes are so weird, mate. It's like, you're barefoot. But you're not."
Harry smirked at his friend's eloquence and wiggled his toes in the black flip-flops.
"Better than wearing trainers on a day like this."
Flip-flops were Harry's one muggle indulgence that he sought to frequently take part in. Wearing trainers or sneakers seemed so confining, yet being barefoot around wizards tended to be dangerous, so he'd taken to wearing the seldom-seen footwear as often as he could - especially on days like this.
Shadows formed as the groups lounged, and they looked up to see the green Syltherin crests on the forms of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
The Slytherin trio had quieted considerably since the end of the war - Zabini came back from Italy with a cleared name while Parkinson and Malfoy lucked out with Harry's testaments during their trials.
"Shouldn't you be wearing a shirt, Weasley? I can assure you, no one wants to see what you're offering," Draco Malfoy's voice was smooth and cool, betraying the heat surrounding the respective groups.
"Oh, can it, Malfoy." Harry looked to him, laid back across a leaning tree, "It's too hot today for you to be a prick. Just go chill out somewhere."
Hermione stifled a snigger, but Pansy looked at Harry with a smirk.
"Well said, Potter." The Slytherin girl seated herself in the shade of the same tree, and Blaise made to follow her on the ground.
Draco Malfoy stood a moment longer, silently glaring at his two friends before settling near them in the grass.
"What was that last Charms assignment we had, Granger?" Pansy looked to Hermione with a slight smile on her face, a peace offering.
"Well, it was an essay on what we went over Tuesday," Hermione seemed tentative, yet soon the two girls were discussing class topics and other assortments of things their male counterparts would never pay attention to.
Blaise had gone on to ask about the current Quidditch season, as his absence in Italy had deprived him of the game's statistics over the past year, and the guys began a slow conversation about which teams were likely to be in the World Cup.
"I don't know, Ron, the Cannon's haven't done so well, this year," Harry found himself plucking tiny pieces of grass from the earth, he was far too lazy to seriously consider his choice of words.
Ron sputtered, "B-but of course they have! They only lost their last three games from Riley's leg injury!"
Draco gave a slow gaze at the brunette leaning on the tree, almost considering him, and Harry looked on as Draco's eyes left his and lingered down his body in a slow pass, settling on his uncovered feet in the muggle sandals.
Draco blushed furiously and looked away.
"Nice shoes, Potty." His voice held none of the menace it was supposed to have.
Blaise laughed at the shoes and Ron went on about how odd they were.
This was the first of such confrontations between the Slytherins and Gryffindors.
*
*
Harry found himself roaming the castle's dark corridors at night, his insomnia taking over and forcing him to seek activity while the rest of the students slumbered peacefully. He'd been leaving his cloak behind, finding the "danger" of Filch finding him far more exciting than he should have. His bare feet made a slight slapping noise across the cold stones, and he found himself humming a tune he'd heard Hermione singing for several days.
He turned a sharp corner and ran into the solid form of Malfoy, the blond sneering, "Watch it!"
"What the hell are you doing out so late, Malfoy?" Harry raised an eyebrow at him.
"Prefect," He flashed his badge, smiling rather than smirking and looking down at his attire - cotton tshirt, red pajama bottoms, bare feet, "Is there a reason why I shouldn't deduct points from Gryffindor? I believe you're out after hours."
Harry sighed, "C'mon Malfoy, don't do this tonight..."
Draco stepped past him with a growing blush across this face and said in a meditative voice, "If not tonight, then tomorrow night. Same time, same place." And with that, he had disappeared into another corridor.
Harry didn't think much of it at the time, but there he was the next night, at the same late hour, leaning against the stones of the wall and looking annoyed as no one showed up. The floor was cold, afterall, and why he hadnt worn socks was still a mystery to him.
Just as he was about to set off, however, strong pale arms snaked to pin him against the stone, and Draco Malfoy's stormy gray eyes burned into him.
"Waiting long, Potter?" The man's voice was like silk.
"Ehm... No? Malfoy, get off. It's too late to fight you, if that's what this is all about." Harry was nervous in a way he hadn't ever considered before. This wasn't a dangerous situation, but he felt adrenaline pulsing through his veins faster than if Voldemort had stood in front of him.
But Malfoy held his arms tighter against his shoulders, and trailed one soft hand to graze along his neck, and chin, to finally rest warmly on his cheek - his gray eyes darkened as he whispered breathily, "I'm not fighting you, Potter, but you may want to fight me for this."
And with that, he leaned in to press his lips softly against Harry's, light like butterfly wings, nearly taking Harry's breath away before the brunette pushed Draco back and stared at him, shocked beyond his belief.
"You! You just... What?" Harry looked to Draco's eyes and saw them cloud with disappointment and rejection, and the blond stepped back.
"Sorry, Potter. You can go about your night. Just forget it happened." Draco made a motion to leave, but Harry gripped his arm tightly.
The emerald eyed man pulled Draco back roughly and bit his lip almost painfully with the force of his kiss, carding a hand through his blond hair as if to press his face closer to his already close one.
Pulling back with a deep blush across his cheeks, Harry whispered, "I don't want to forget that. Do you?"
That was much how it started, and how it continued for many weeks. They would meet in deserted corridors and snog each other senseless. And as the physical interaction grew more heated than could be contained in a dark hallway, Draco began to ask Harry questions about life, and they would talk about everything and nothing for hours.
*
*
The home of Ron and Hermione Weasley was new, a cozy little cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and Hermione had been hurriedly showing off the rooms and furniture and new shag carpet. After a few glasses of wine, the bookish girl had begun to tease Draco about Harry.
"Purchasing a muggle apartment, hmm?" Hermione looked back to Harry, who was laughing at Ron's explanation of the fantastic carpet. "When are you going to ask him to move in?"
Draco's breath seemed to catch as Harry laughed and removed his shoes at Ron's insistence to feel the carpet.
"I'll ask him when I'm sure," Draco's voice was light, and the blush fierce across his high cheekbones.
*
*
Harry lounged across the couch in their comfortably furnished apartment. He had only just begun Auror training, and the lessons left him sore and worn out from the day's use of magic and physical exertion. Draco would be home soon, he'd been surprisingly working at a muggle bookstore around the corner from their flat. The pureblood was enamored with muggle fantasy literature, and spent more of his days reading the books of the shop than selling them - a fact the store owner, an older woman named Madge, simply loved about him. Their incomes were meager, but their vaults at Gringotts were overflowing in galleons, so the small space of the apartment was covered in velvets and egyptian cottons.
The brunette pushed his shoes off the edge of the couch. His day had been so rough. He was practically melting into the couch after pulling off his jumper, as Draco rushed through the doorway and crashed his bag across the table in their breakfast nook.
"Loud, much?" Harry laughed at his flustered expression.
"Damn it. I wanted to get here before you did!" He looked amusingly upset, his pink lips forming a pout that merely made Harry laugh more.
"Aw. I'm sorry, boo. I've just had a rough day... Training let out early and I'm all sore..." Harry made a show of rubbing his aching muscles and stretching in the tight slacks and plain white tshirt Draco had all but forcibly purchased him.
The blond was simply gazing across his lean form, licking his lips. "Do you want me to draw you a hot bath, love?"
Harry made a look of complete exhaustion, "I don't think I could even get up from the couch... Could I get a little foot rub, first? I'm just so tired, Drake..." The green-eyed man thought for sure his boyfriend would find some way around giving him a foot rub, it certainly seemed like something below a pureblooded Malfoy, but he didn't think asking could hurt - especially with his feet killing him as they often did after Auror training.
Draco simply smiled brighter, walking to their bedroom and grabbing a bottle of massage oil, leaving his own heavy sweater behind in lieu of the maroon v-neck Harry persuaded him to try on, over the tight dark denim that stretched across his legs.
And when Draco started peeling away Harry's socks, rolling his slacks up above the ankle, and pouring that warm, vanilla scented massage oil, every single one of Harry's troubles melted away. Draco applied pressure to every sensitive or sore muscle in his lover's foot, making the brunette smile blissfully, pulling near-wanton moans from Harry that he was sure he would never make in front of anyone else.
Harry was slowly reaching some kind of nirvana as Draco continued on with his long, slender fingers, when suddenly Draco stilled his motions. Harry glanced up to see his blond head bowed, and seemingly heavy of breathing.
"Is something wrong, Drake?"
Draco looked up through his fringing mess of hair, having never touched hair gel since Harry mussed his locks and proclaimed his love of their imperfection.
"Harry..." Draco took another deep breath, "I haven't told you this before... and you know I love you... but, and please don't judge me for this, I just can't keep it from you anymore..."
Harry's eyes were alight with worry and fear, what could this confession mean?
"Harry... I have a foot fetish."
Harry could have laughed, but the look in Draco's eyes was so small and vulnerable, he almost seemed to be crying. Harry quickly slid down to kiss his lover, noticing the bulge that had formed in his pants from the simple foot massage.
"Oh, Drake, you had me completely worried it was something so much worse." He muttered against the blond's lips, who pulled back and sputtered,
"Worse? Harry, I have a weird foot fetish! It's unnatural, it's not normal... it's-" Harry cut off his words with another deep kiss, pulling back only to look into his stormy gray eyes.
"It's not wrong, and I love you so cut that out. I'm just curious as to why you didn't tell me sooner, especially if I can get great foot massages out of this..." Harry had a slightly devious look in his eyes and he led Draco by the hand to their bedroom, where he sprawled on the lush king sized bed, kicking his feet out almost beseechingly.
Draco took a moment to really laugh, feeling lighter than he had known he could feel, and set about massaging Harry's vanilla scented toes once again.
Harry pulled his shirt off, and leaned forward as Draco captured his lips with his own. The kiss was gentle, but needy, hungry, as the two took on a slow battle for dominance.
Draco guided Harry back into the mattress, subtly ensnaring Harry's wrists above his head and unbuckling his belt, slowly teasing him as he made to unzip his slacks. Harry's whimpers increased their frequency and his lover tugged his pants down to the ankle, along with his boxers, and began trailing kisses across his collarbone, completely ignoring his aching member.
A charm held Harry's wrists firmly in place as Draco nibbled his way down Harry's fit chest, kissing every scar and licking the ridges of his muscles, smirking as Harry tried in vain to thrust his erection into Draco's hips.
Pulling off his own clothes with unhurried seduction, Draco's smoldering gaze was burning holes into Harry, as he spoke with steady, fiery words,
"Harry, I want you. So badly." He crawled across Harry to showering him with kisses, trailing once again downwards, "You're so beautiful... Everything you do... So attractive... From that first day by the lake..."
Harry snapped to reality, "By the lake?"
"It was so hot out, and you looked stunning, with your cute flip flops on..." He punctuated his sentence with a scrape of his teeth against Harry's hipbone, simultaneously stroking Harry's weeping prick - causing the man to cry out.
Draco's kisses continued down Harry's toned legs, reaching his massage-sensitized feet, where Draco licked a long path along the arch in his foot, still stroking Harry's thick member.
Harry could barely breathe, he wanted to gasp and flail and moan, but he was trapped in Draco's heated gaze, and briefly wondering why the blond had never done this before; every nerve ending on his skin was hyper-sensitized to his lover's touch.
As Harry lost his abandon, Draco worked his free hand at descending down Harry's torso, tweaking his hardened nipples and gaining soft noises from Harry's throat, continuing down to gently graze his balls and stroke at his hot, tight hole. His lips left Harry's foot as he took purchase of his cock, licking its length and sucking until Harry's back was arched almost painfully. He deftly whispered a lubing and stretching charm as he slid two fingers into his lover, hitting his prostate expertly.
"Draco, please," Harry whined so perfectly, his eyes darkened with lust, "Please..."
Draco smirked and leaned over the brunette, "Yeah, baby? What is it you want..." He thrust his own erection against Harry's and captured the man's lips as they moaned together.
"Draco, now!" Harry was practically crying with want. Draco always knew how to send him over the edge.
The blond hooked an arm under his lover's leg, guiding his straining erection into Harry's tight heat. He kept his eyes on Harry's face, watching the man melt and coil in pleasure at the sensation of being filled.
Draco began a steady rhythm, leaning into Harry's lithe body. Every moan from the brunette's lips fueled Draco's thrusts. He grabbed Harry's other leg and lifted it over his shoulder, bending the leg forward to get a better angle into his lover.
In his haze of pleasure, Harry pressed his foot lightly against Draco's face, hoping that's what he wanted. The blond took the foot rubbed a thumb across his still sensitive sole, and sucked on one of his toes.
Harry found himself arching up at the simple act and crying out Draco's name like a mantra, his orgasm spilling between their chests. Draco moaned at the sight of Harry so undone and leaned forward to kiss his mouth hungrily. He gently pulled out of the brunette, still hard, and looked at him with a mixture of lust and trepidation and he took hold of Harry's feet and moved them to slide along his swollen erection.
Harry saw the nervousness in his lover's movements, and took over sliding his feet.
"God, you're so fucking gorgeous, Draco," the brunette purred from the bed, and it took Draco another look in those emerald eyes before he came, shouting Harry's name and collapses in his arms.
They breathed heavily, evening out their breaths to the slowing rhythm of each others' heart beats.
"Since the lake, huh?" Harry smirked at the angel in his arms.
Draco took on a slow smile, and an uncommon look of shyness, "Yeah... You had cute feet. What can I say?"
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