The Prank of Hogwarts

by ladyofsilverdawn

A hurricane in the Great Hall, fog in the Hospital Wing, snow in Draco's office—and that's just the beginning! An end-of-year prank has gone awry, and Unspeakable Harry Potter comes to the rescue. However, he soon finds he's the one in need of rescuing. The former adversaries must work together to battle the forces of natures, but will they be able to survive—each other? COMPLETE.

Prompt: #63 by ssounette (quatre8ss [FF]) for HP Drizzle Fest 2015 on livejournal
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, voyeurism, rimming, light S&M
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Beta'd by MyFirstistheFourth and britpicked by Her Royal Goddess. You guys rock! Life's a busy, crazy monster, but you found the time to give your much appreciated advice. Many, many thanks! :)

---

The Prank of Hogwarts

Ground Floor

With soft pattering, water seeped from the edges of two mammoth bronze doors, to pool around the soles of Harry's Oxfords. The Department of Mysteries appointed Unspeakable readied himself; his wand firmly clutched in his hand, numerous spells at the forefront of his mind.

A loud boom thundered as the thick metal entrance was struck by an unknown object from the other side—another deafening thud. Dust and bits of gravel cascaded from the stone statues above.

Bracing himself, Harry cast a shield a millisecond before unsealing the Great Hall. The double doors flew open, flapping erratically from the erupting strong gales. As he leaned forward, a storm surge spilt from the cavernous space, parting around his protective barrier and soaking his legs from behind.

He forced his head up, facing the high winds that lashed around his robes. He could see long tables and benches floating on their backs like corpses in the muggy room. As rain fell at a steep angle, pinging against his defences, he took a step forward, then another, and another, with every successful gain, the force of the storm worsening.

Harry glanced up and gaped. The ceiling, instead of matching the bright spring day outside, churned with a dark, dense cloud cover.

After a few more difficult paces, he looked up again to find the eye of the storm just within his sight. Almost there.

Another strong wave crashed around his body, causing him to nearly lose his footing, before he heard the sound of cracking wood and saw frothing water.

On the other side of the room, a funnel sprouted. Growing quickly, it began consuming everything within its vicinity. Brightly colored banners were its first victims; they twisted around and within the tornado like a grotesque Dance of the Seven Veils.

The pull of the cyclone seized Harry's body, and his protective shield disintegrated. Straining back, he scrambled to remain on his feet, but he couldn't. Back splashing into the water, his face became submerged as he was unerringly drawn towards the swirling chaos.

Opening his eyes, Harry peered up through the murkiness. High up above, he could see the sunlit, wood-beamed ceiling peeking through the circular opening within the thick, black clouds. Raising his wand straight towards the calm target, he screamed, bubbles rising and popping to the surface.

A bright violet light flashed, and icy air inundated the heart of the storm. With no more warm air to fuel the violent haster, the magical storm collapsed, transforming into a tidal wave.

Struggling to find the surface, Harry's lungs burned for oxygen. But he couldn't help it; instinctually, he breathed in a chest full of water. Even as the room began to brighten, Harry's world went dark.

---

"Professor!" a female student shrilled, running down the corridor. "Professor Malfoy!"

About to enter his classroom and ready for the next period, the Head of Slytherin asked in exasperation, "Who's died?"

Breathless, the seventh year Ravenclaw yelled, "Harry Potter!"

At first, Draco thought it was yet another prank, but a Ravenclaw would never be so stupid as to tell such a blatant lie.

"Where?" the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor demanded.

Without another word, the Prefect started sprinting back down the sunny hallway, Draco following close behind.

By the midway point down the hall, he could see a black clump on the flagstone floor, making him increase his speed.

"Get Madam Pomfrey!" Draco ordered.

Once in the entrance hall, the Ravenclaw darted to the left and up the stairs towards the hospital wing, and the fast tap of Draco's shoes came to a halt. In front of the Great Hall entrance, he immediately knelt to feel if Harry was breathing. Fuck! Hands shaking, Draco checked Potter's cold wrist for a pulse—nothing.

After turning the supine wizard's head to the side to drain any water from his air passages, Draco pinched Harry's nose and, covering Harry's mouth with his own, puffed in a deep breath. He watched Harry's chest rise, fall, then still. Draco inhaled through his nose and exhaled through their sealed lips again. Come on! Come on you bloody git! Breathe!

He waited a second to see if there was a change before repeating the process, over and over and over again. You can't die like this! Draco's other hand, which had been keeping the pasty wizard's head tilted and his airway open, began clenching the soaked fabric near Harry's neck. Teardrops started falling from his eyes like the water being wrung from the black fabric in his tight grip.

Abruptly, Harry's body spasmed, and the sound of a wet cough filled the entry hall. Lids falling closed in relief, Draco lightly rested his forehead on Harry's.

A crack of apparition startled Draco, and he lifted his head to see Madam Pomfrey rushing towards him. Kneeling down, she started flicking her wand in complicated patterns as she gave Harry a preliminary examination.

Shaking her head, Madam Pomfrey muttered, "No hypothermia. No broken bones. No internal injuries. He is. The. Most...unluckiest, lucky man." She scrutinized Draco's damp face. "Good work, Professor; you saved Potter's life."

Draco squirmed under her stare. Looking back at the unconscious Gryffindor, he snidely rebuffed, "I couldn't very well let the Boy Who Lived die on my watch," causing Madam Pomfrey to huff out her nose.

She studied Potter's face once more then called out, "Accio Harry Potter's glasses!" The mangled frames and separated lenses flew from the Great Hall and landed in her hand. Once Madam Pomfrey repaired the glasses with a tap of her wand, she returned the full-moon spectacles onto Harry's face.

After they both stood, she folded her arms over her chest and said, "He'll need a potion to help clear his lungs…and likely a restorative for his aches and pains, too. I need to conduct a more in-depth scan but don't want to cast any more spells on him until his magic stabilizes a bit more."

Madam Pomfrey began striding towards the staircase but, when she hadn't heard any movement behind her, turned around. "Are you going to be giving me a hand getting him to the hospital wing or not, Professor?"

Draco grumbled about troublesome Gryffindors as he bent down. He pocketed Harry's famous holly wand, which had rolled into the space between two stone tiles, before gently lifting and cradling Harry in his arms. Stomach somersaulting, he kept his face expressionless, trailing behind Pomfrey as students gawked at the sight of the Head of Slytherin holding the great war hero. He tried to ignore the growing heat from Potter's body and how every one of Harry's breaths was a reassuring comfort. Licking his lips and tasting salt, Draco swallowed hard. Blasted Gryffindor.

---

First Floor

Before opening the double doors to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey asserted, "I'll guide you to a bed. Be sure to follow close; the fog has gotten so thick you can barely see your own hand in front of your face." She lifted her wand and lit the tip. With her other hand, the matron grabbed onto Draco's robes.

Being led blindly by only his sleeve, Draco bumped a shin on the corner of a bedframe and grunted in pain.

Madam Pomfrey ushered him into position. "Set him down slowly; the bed is straight in front of you."

Doing as she said, Draco placed Harry onto fresh cotton sheets and sighed—more than one weight being lifted.

"I need to get back to—"

"Just a moment more of your time, Professor. Would you please stay next to Mr. Potter while I retrieve the necessary potions and…perhaps make him more comfortable."

She maneuvered effortlessly past Draco, her confident strides getting fainter with each step.

Exhausted, Draco collapsed, sitting on Harry's bedside.

"I swear, Potter—you'll be the death of me." Heeding the Madam Pomfrey's request, Draco shoved his hand in an inner-pocket. He pulled out two wands, laying Harry's on the bed. With a flick of his wrist, he dried Harry's skin and silk garments. Warm air currents around Harry's body caused the fog to dissipate and stir before once again engulfing his frame.

Having glimpsed a blanket at the foot of the bed, he pulled it up, tucking it under Harry's chin.

The click, click, click of Madam Pomfrey's shoes was Draco's signal to move aside.

"If you could support his head for me."

Using his sense of touch, Draco did as directed.

She parted Harry's lips, pouring in a potion that smelled of vinegar and burnt hair, and then another that was so bad Draco had to hold his breath.

Once Harry's heavy, rattled breathing eased, Madam Pomfrey performed a full diagnostic, waving her wand in a slew of gestures, at one point, accidentally striking Draco on the arm.

With a sniff of satisfaction, she clipped, "You're free to leave now, Professor Malfoy." Before marching away, Pomfrey squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you for your help."

Wanting to relax a tad before needing to return to his classroom, Draco once again sat down. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the quietness of the cool, misty room and placed his hand over Harry's wrist. Whether the kind gesture was done because he wanted to give comfort or because he needed it for himself, Draco couldn't have said.

---

The remnant of the foulest taste was in Harry's mouth, and his face screwed in disgust. Opening his eyelids, all he could discern was that he was lying down in the middle of large white cloud.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered shut, breath catching. What the bloody hell is going on?

As he searched for his wand, Harry rapidly determined by the medicinal smells that he was on a bed in the fog-infested infirmary.

With a smile and a repressed groan of pleasure, his fingers felt the familiar smoothness of a wooden cylinder. Harry lifted his arm from underneath the covers and moved his wand up, down, back to the middle, and side-to-side, creating a cross. Throat sore, he rasped, "Fervenate."

A whoosh of hot air—so strong the pressure hurt Harry's inner ears—rolled throughout the hospital wing and, as it invaded the chamber, the mist swiftly disappeared.

Draco gaped in surprise when the room cleared and he could see shadows from owls flying between the sun and large leaded-glass windows. Turning his head towards the antique panes, he grinned, feeling warm rays on his face.

Harry's gasp and moan drew his concern.

Glancing down, all Draco could do was slowly exhale. This entire time, he hadn't been squeezing Harry's wrist—but his cock…his very well-endowed, blood-filled cock. Face turning bright red, Draco immediately released his hold. Trying to keep his composure, he apologized and said, "I didn't realize."

Before Harry could comment, a scowling Madam Pomfrey stomped over and shouted, "Potter! I and every other staff member in his school have tried what you just did numerous times to fix this, this, ridiculous prank gone so very wrong, and—"

Ceasing her from continuing on with her rant, Harry explained, "If the ailment plaguing Hogwarts had a body, all you did when trying to remove the fog from the infirmity, was break one of its bones—given enough time it will fuse the limb back together. To get rid of this infectious magic permanently amputation will be required."

Still out of sorts, Malfoy bitingly asked, "What are you blathering on about, Potter."

Glaring at Draco, Harry retorted, "To dumb it down, each floor of Hogwarts has become magically infected with one room on each level being a vital organ. You can't fix only one and not the others."

"Wouldn't destroying the source solve the problem?" the matron offered.

"No, from what I've found, the prank has somehow woven itself into the very fabric of Hogwarts' magic. If we did that, the school would likely lose portions of itself like necrotic flesh and collapse in upon itself."

"So what do you suggest?" Draco seriously inquired.

"Based on my research, what's needed is surgery, starting at the newest phenomenon on the lowest floor and working up. I've already begun. The ground and first floor have been cured, but I still need to seal this floor to prevent reinfection. More vigorous study is required, but I believe I have it all sussed."

"You, Potter," Madam Pomfrey interjected, "are not allowed to cast even a grade-one-level spell until you find suitable backup."

"I assure you—"

"And I assure you," her face hardened, "that while you're within these walls your well-being is my primary concern. If you can't find a qualified person to aid you with this dangerous endeavor, I will have to speak to Headmistress McGonagall about having you escorted from the grounds—for your own good."

"I really don't—"

Cutting off Harry again, she probed, "Professor Malfoy?"

The two wizards quickly glanced at each other, scowling.

After a slight hesitation, Draco answered, "Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Being the Defence professor, you have vast amounts of knowledge on and experience with protective shields…correct?"

"Fine. Yes. I'll help the incompetent fool," Malfoy said through clenched teeth. "Despite the fact I'm busy enough with patrol duty this week." Draco glared at Harry. "And don't think I'm doing this just because you're the Wizarding world's savior. I'm only helping you because I want to be able to use my office once more."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Malfoy," Harry spurned. "How about a little demonstration of your skill?"

Harry pulled out a small object from his robes. Making a key-hole-like shape with sharp movements of his wrist, the item enlarged, revealing a ratty Muggle notebook. After murmuring and waving his wand over it for a few more seconds, he opened it to one of the many pages bookmarked with a bright-yellow piece of paper.

"Here," Harry tore out a section from the red, spiral-bound book, not trusting Malfoy enough to give him the whole thing, and impatiently offered the slip of paper to Draco.

Sneering, Draco yanked it from Harry's hand. After studying the complicated charm for a few minutes, he smirked. "Alright then." Letting the piece of paper float onto the bed without a backwards glance, Malfoy strutted to the center of the room.

Draco began reciting the long, litany of Latin while flawlessly performing the complicated wand patterns. With every word, he glowed brighter with a phosphorescent light.

Even though Harry knew what was about to happen, he couldn't look away—Draco was too captivating, too beautiful—like an elf trying to entrap him with a dance.

Uttering the last word of the spell, Malfoy cried out in stunned ecstasy as power erupted from his body, ballooning out towards the ceiling and covering it in a dazzling layer of writhing magic.

Panting, Draco rested his free hand on a knee, and without delay, he wandlessly and wordlessly performed a cleaning charm on his pants, so very, very grateful he had worn dark trousers which had obscured the wet stain of his release.

Satisfied an embarrassing incident had been averted, he returned to the matron's side, reciprocating her oblivious smile with a polite one of his own. And then, Draco faced Harry…and saw heated eyes, gleaming with secret understanding. Bugger it all. That's why the knob didn't want a partner. He knew the interwoven elements of the spell created a magical amplifier using sexual energy. Quite ingenious…really. No! I am not impressed by Potter!

As Draco's cheeks warmed to an attractive shade of light pink, he huskily gritted, "This week, I have an hour of free time before I begin evening patrol duty. We can meet tonight in front of my office at eight sharp."

"Tomorrow," chimed in the witch. "You can meet tomorrow. "

"But Madam Pom—" Harry started to complain.

"Tomorrow." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Until you've fully recovered, you are not leaving. This. Bed."

Harry sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow at eight, Malfoy."

Draco gave a curt nod. "My class begins in five minutes; I must take my leave. Potter." His expression softened. "Madam Pomfrey."

Forcing his face and hands to remain relaxed, Draco hurried away.

---

Second Floor

Maneuvering around students, who were heading back to their dormitories for the evening, Harry recognized the tall silhouette of Malfoy. Unlike yesterday when he was dressed in typical Slytherin colors, today he had donned red robes, not the bright scarlet of Gryffindor, but a deeper shade like blood or wine. The dark fabric contrasted beautifully with his long ponytail, tied with a simple black band, and highlighted the natural, soft rose tones of his fair complexion.

The Clock Tower commenced its chiming, marking the half hour.

Out of breath, Harry reached his reluctant partner's side.

Not bothering to look at Harry, Malfoy chided, "I have no time for excuses, Potter. You have thirty minutes left of my time before I must leave—and not a second more."

With a brisk turn of a handle and a cold click, Draco opened the door to his defunct office. The entrance was almost completely obstructed with a glistening wall of white snow.

"I've already spelled the bottom of my soles and my garments," Draco informed, "but I'll need a hand."

Harry—desperately trying not to skew the innocent request—deftly charmed his own clothing and then bent to a knee. "On three?"

Draco's heart fluttered seeing Harry gazing up and kneeling in such supplicatory manner. He gulped and tentatively raised his foot.

Wrapping his hands around Draco's russet-brown leather shoe, Harry steadied himself. "Ready?"

Malfoy gave a quick nod.

"One." Harry provided a short boost, and Draco grabbed onto the frozen bank. "Two." Another lift, stronger this time, allowed him to place both elbows. "Three!" With a grunt, Draco hoisted the rest of his weight through the narrow opening.

Lying down on his stomach, Draco reached for Harry's upstretched arms. When his pale hands met Harry's tanned skin, looking as if were covered in a layer of chestnut honey, Draco admired its healthy hue. Harry had been so pallid yesterday, from yet another near-death experience, and Madam Pomfrey's care really had helped him make a full turnaround.

As Draco leveraged his weight onto his knees, allowing Harry to scurry up the frozen, packed cliff, he studied the other wizard's upturned face. Light reflecting off the surface of the snow revealed the clarity of Harry's bright, green eyes. Even with those silly, donnish lenses in the way, Harry's vibrant eye color played nicely with his warm-brown skin and flushed cheeks. Since Harry sported a shaven head, Draco couldn't decide whether he more resembled a monk or a villain, especially with his black, sleek robes. The dichotomy of his appearance was unnerving, intriguing, and…stimulating.

Malfoy's lack of attention and their momentum caused both to topple over, Draco onto his back and Harry directly on top of him. Two visible clouds of air burst in between them, intermingled, and then were rapidly gasped back in when each man felt the other's arousal. Locking gazes, they held their breaths.

Draco was the first one to excuse any possibility of mutual attraction but, still being his Slytherin self, curled his lip and asked, "Well, Potter…are you going to get off?"

Harry blinked. "Uh, yeah…sorry." As he hastily scooted off, their engorged members rubbed against each other, and both men momentarily shut their eyes, stifling their moans.

While Draco still lay on his back, Harry sitting next to him, the two wizards focused on their wintery surroundings, attempting to stop both their lustful thoughts and throbbing erections. Except for the red and black of their billowing robes, everything was white. The curved walls and windows were dusted in a layer of shimmering frost. Snow whirled in magical winds high above and icicles dangled from lit sconces, the crackling sound of melting snow heard when drips from them hit the ground below.

Plopping onto his back, Harry wasn't able to resist. He repeatedly fanned his arms and legs, creating a snow angel. Snowflakes drifted from the ceiling and onto his grinning face and Draco's annoyed one.

"Come on, Malfoy, have a little fun."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll have fun when my office no longer resembles a bloody snow globe." He rose to his feet, the charm on his footwear keeping him from sinking into the soft, glittery ground. After brushing himself off, Draco held out a hand to Harry and warned, "If you pull me down, I'll hex you so badly—you'll be vomiting flobberworms for a week."

Smiling, Harry sat up and accepted the manicured offering, gripping Draco's forearm with his other hand as well.

While their palms gloved each other in warmth, Draco inquired, "Did you recently go on holiday?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "You're wondering about the tan… All I can tell you is that I acquired it while at work."

Draco hummed, gaze prowling over Harry's body. "At work, huh. Is it…all encompassing?"

Raising his eyebrows, Harry pursed his lips, cheeks flaming.

"Whatever can the Department of Mysteries be up to," Malfoy simpered, "if you're required to work blooming starkers."

Without warning, Draco heaved Harry upwards by their linked hands, his hands shifting to wrap advantageously around Harry's firm build.

"All that's missing to complete the scene," Draco teased, as snow continued to fall softly, "is a music box playing a nice waltz."

Lightly placing his hands on Draco's shoulders, Harry breathlessly murmured, "You've seen me dance, Malfoy." Harry, feeling slightly awkward, created more space between them without fully separating. With a wavering chuckle, he said, "You know I'm an awful lead."

"Maybe…" Draco drawled, "your problem is—you're meant to follow." He took one smooth step back, and Harry flowed along with him.

Spring-grass-green and winter-sky-grey eyes gazed into each other, dilating with bottled-up desire.

Harry abruptly broke Draco's hold and the spell. "I should get started if you need to leave soon."

Affronted by the loss, Malfoy stomped away and leaned against the wall. "Well get on with it, then. I'm here to supervise, not to do your bloody job for you."

"You're not here to just stand and look pretty either but to help me."

"Here's a bit of advice—don't do anything stupid." Draco's eyes blinked lazily, and he folded his arms, waiting.

Harry growled and marched away, removing his wand. Keeping his eyes resolutely focused away from Malfoy, he studied his notes, cast diagnostic charms, and scribbled in new observations for a few minutes. Finally, he aimed his wand towards the ceiling and shouted, "Lumos Solem!"

A blinding light illuminated the room, and the sensation of walking from shade into sunlight flashed across both wizards' skin. Like a theatre curtain slowly descending, the last of the frozen precipitation landed on the ground.

Robes swirling as he spun in a circle, wand pointing towards the crunchy ground, Harry barked, "Evanesco," and all the snow in room vanished. With the same breath, he yelled, "Arresto Momentum," and the old rivals gently descended to the stone floor.

As they landed, the Clock Tower reverberated throughout the castle, announcing the hour.

"Times up, Potter." Draco brushed off an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. Arching an eyebrow, he said, "I'm sure you can finish things without needing my assistance."

Harry flushed. "Do you know where to meet, tomorrow?"

"Yes." Draco grinned, enjoying Harry's discomfort. Strolling towards the door, he scornfully suggested, "Do try to be on time; I won't be kept waiting again." And he exited the office.

Harry grumbled, the terms pompous, Slytherin, and git filtering past his lips. Closing his eyes, he turned his focus inwards, trying to concentrate, but the thought of Malfoy offering his "assistance" kept intruding. He gave up and embraced the erotic imaginary. Magic steadily increased within his core and rubbed against his erection. Moving his wand like a skilled conductor, his voice built to a crescendo.

Harry's eyes pinched tighter; his neck bowed back and, as power and his moans of pleasure filled the room, he didn't see Draco watching from the doorway.

---

Third Floor

The steady beat of Draco's footsteps echoed against the aged stone of the shadowy Armoury. Uneasy, he scanned the corridor. White and orange light from the setting sun and recently ignited torches reflected off the long line of suits of armour. A heavy haze hovered over the empty metal sentinels, which looked as though they would move at any moment and attempt to grab him. He quickened his pace down the corridor—but not because he was late. Malfoys never rushed or so he told himself.

After placing stray feathery strands of hair behind his ears, Draco focused on Potter.

Eyes closed, Potter leaned beside the locked entrance to the trophy room. "I thought," Harry spoke slowly, "you might have stood me up again like you did for our duel during first year." His lids languidly opened, and he pushed his glasses up the straight bridge of his nose.

Through a tall arched window, shifting clouds unveiled rays from the risen moon, which illuminated Harry's green irises, making them appear to almost glow. Draco shivered, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

"I'm a Slytherin, Potter," Draco scoffed. "I manipulated you so that you would leave your dormitory past curfew and get in trouble."

A tight-lipped smile spread across Harry's face. "Or maybe you fancied some alone time with…Ron."

Draco's nostrils flared and his refined features twisted in repugnance. "If there wasn't a risk of severe memory loss, I'd Obliviate myself right now."

Eyes dancing with humor, Harry stalked towards him. "I'm glad you came…because I really do need you tonight."

Draco's eyes widened.

"The room has grown increasingly turbulent, and I will most definitely be in need of a dueling second." Harry's tone became graver. "Someone I can trust."

Shoulders slightly drooping in disappointment but, understanding the seriousness of the situation, Draco sighed. "How can I be of help?"

"I've already done as much research as I can, here and at the Ministry. The best spell I could find will protect us for five minutes, ten if we're lucky."

"That's it!" Draco groaned, habitually considering his personal well-being.

Harry gave a tight nod. "Under normal circumstances, the charm lasts much longer, but the volatile magic within the room will likely twist and weaken it more quickly."

Brow furrowing in contemplation, Draco advised, "To maximize the amount of time we can safely work, perhaps you should go in first"—Harry stifled a snort—"and I can enter a few minutes afterwards and…make sure you're still alive."

To that, Harry did snort and then asked, "Have you ever heard of Agni's Rakṣṇa?"

Two deep creases between Draco's steely eyes marred his otherwise flawless face. "I've primarily studied magic derived from Latin and Greek traditions, and only recently touched upon the more ancient branches. Agni I believe is a…Hindu deity?"

Surprised pleasure rolled through Harry's body and he smiled. "Yes. Agni is a god associated with the sun, lightning, fire, and the protection of humanity. That's what Rakṣṇa translates to from Sanskrit: protection.

"Wait. Showing you would explain it better." Harry patted his robes, searching, and then grumbled, "I swear George hexes my robes so that things are never in the same place."

"Aha!" Harry's face lit up. "Found it!"

He turned to a dog-eared page in his notebook and presented it to Draco. A bright, vivid illustration of a dark-skinned-multiple-armed-two-headed man hurled around the border in a gilded chariot pulled by seven fiery horses.

Pointing with his finger, Harry said, "The chant is phonetically written in red here. Go ahead; give it a whirl."

Articulating each word, Draco said the charm aloud. Harry watched Draco's lips form each foreign syllable, while he chewed on his own lower one. As Draco's melodic voice progressively grew huskier, Harry's cock grew harder.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes…perfect. Now try the wand motions."

Draco's gestures were ballet-like, smooth and precise.

Harry frowned. "You need to be looser—more organic."

"More organic? I'm not trying to make a bloody salad, Potter."

Rolling his eyes, Harry explained, "This is very old magic. Your entire body needs to be a part of it, not just your wand arm."

Draco tried again and waited for Harry's critique.

"Better but—" he moved behind Draco, making sure to keep enough space between his excited groin and Draco's pert arse. Sliding a hand down Draco's arm to his fingers and placing another hand on Draco's hip, Harry guided him in slow, sweeping movements.

Breathy, Draco said, "You were wrong, Potter. You're not so bad at leading."

Harry grinned. "Was that an actual complement?"

Snickering, Draco jested, "Maybe your problem is…you can only lead from behind."

The image of taking Draco against the wall, his chest flush against Draco's back, barreled through Harry's mind. The thought caused him to stumble, and his engorged shaft pressed in between Draco's buttocks, causing both wizards to gasp.

Harry jumped away and turned as red as a dragon heartstring. "Sorry about that." He rushed on to say, "I better get started. You should wait on the other side of the hall for now."

After checking the time, Harry said, "The Clock Tower will ring in about four minutes. Spell yourself and join me then."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Draco walking away.

"With bells and whistles on, Potter."

Facing the heavy iron entrance, Harry cast the spell on himself. A fuzzy, diaphanous black layer of power hovered around his form and settled, disappearing from view.

Harry unlocked the entrance to the trophy room, which until recently, had never been barred in all of Hogwarts history. The door slammed opened, nearly knocking him over. Heat, hot enough to melt glass, poured from the tall rectangular opening, and a plume of sick, dark smoke rolled from beneath the top ledge. Gulping hard, Harry crossed the threshold, entering the wild firestorm—alone.

---

Pacing between the red-dragon-scale armour of Sir Galahad and the black-dragon-scale armour of Sir Lancelot, Draco muttered, "Idiot," for the umpteenth time. The main reason he was so agitated wasn't because he knew he soon would be joining Harry in a blazing inferno. No. It was because he was left out here to…worry, worry, about the fuckwit, and he couldn't stand it! And, and because Potter had fled from him like a skittish kitten, after Harry's ample member had so snugly slid against the valley of his bum. Gryffindor courage his lily white—

The hollow tolling of a bell declared the half-hour and interrupted Draco mid-thought.

Rapidly blinking his eyes to ease the stinging from the burning air, Draco faced the gaping furnace ahead of him. He shut his eyes, raised his hawthorn wand, and once again imagined Harry's hands were around him as he cast the archaic spell of protection.

Passing through the wall of flames obstructing the entrance, the sensation of extreme pressure rather than scorching heat assaulted Draco, and the sticky feeling of energy clinging to his skin made him grimace.

Engulfing the center of the vaulted chamber, the tips of the largest fire reached towards the ceiling. A roaring wind caused it to heave and surge, shooting embers throughout the room. Stone walls that glowed like molten rock hissed and rippled. Medals and trophies, coated in a clear viscous sludge of bubbling glass, were huddled together in piles on the floor. Looking as if they were writhing in pain, metal cups, awards, and honours had begun to warp and twist from the building temperature.

As Draco rounded the tall column of flame, he faintly heard a baritone shout over the deafening noise of the firestorm. A large arc of aqua-blue light blasted above but quickly fizzled and evaporated into nothingness. However, the powerful water spell was successful in alleviating some of the thick smoke, revealing Harry's form.

Robes smoldering and flapping wilding around his body, Harry licked his cracked and blood-coated lips. Gripping his wand with two hands, he bellowed, "Aqua Eructo Maxima," collapsing to his hands and knees.

The intensity of the spell momentarily blinded Draco. When his vision cleared, he saw the scorching storm remained unaffected and that Harry was shaking from magical exhaustion.

Navigating around debris, Draco rushed towards him. Kneeling in front of Harry, he helped him sit up.

One palm covered in soft ash and the other gripped around his wand, Harry rested his hands on Draco's chest.

Palms planted firmly on Harry's shoulders, he leaned into his touch and yelled near Harry's ear, "What's wrong?"

As he wiped sweat from his forehead, before a salty drop could dribble down and sting an eye, Harry shouted over the piercing winds, "Due to the magical plug placed on the floor below, all the energy from the prank is amassing here. It's grown too strong. Normal methods of countering weather phenomenon won't work," Harry finished explaining, his voice raw.

The fire palpitated and crept towards the wizards. Harry sucked in a quick breath as his skin began taking on a shiny pink color.

Draco's stomach dipped like an out-of-control broom. "You need to leave; your charm's beginning to weaken."

As they rose to their feet, breaking their touch, Harry nodded his head in agreement. "Fool it."

"What?" Draco brows knitted in confusion.

His ink-black silk robes starting to smell like charred meat, Harry rasped, "It's become resistant. You'll need to trick it. Change it subtly."

Suddenly, a sharp, chlorine-like tang permeated the air. Both wizards broke out in gooseflesh and regarded the lofty ceiling.

Harry's eyes widened and he gasped. With little thought, he tackled Draco to the ground, shielding him with his body, and screamed, "Protego!"

Lightning spiked towards them from the churning smoky clouds above, striking the protective dome, flaring it with brilliance. Immediately after, thunder boomed, and the massive spiraling cone of flame pulsed, releasing a wave of searing heat.

Consciousness fled from Harry. His body went slack, causing Draco's lungs to strain from Harry's dead weight.

Groaning from the impact of his head striking the hard ground, Draco pushed Harry's body off.

The bolt of energy had served as a catalyst for chaos, and the magic within the room began tumbling out of control. More streaks of blazing light spiderwebbed overhead, illuminating the dense choking smoke above. As if the firestorm was swallowing mouthfuls of hot air, it quickly began to swell.

While trying to stay low, Draco regained his footing. He grabbed Harry's limp arms and dragged the unconscious wizard away from the expanding fire.

After unceremoniously dropping Harry's arms, Draco shoved his fingers through his pulled back hair. "Damn it, Potter! This does not bring back good memories," Draco grumbled, recalling the terrifying Fiendfyre incident in the Room of Hidden Things.

Draco hastily glanced down at Harry's handsome, relaxed face and back up at the pervading wall of flames. He knew Harry's charm would likely collapse if it encountered direct contact with fire.

Before he had grown a backbone during the war, Draco would have run screaming, saving himself but, now as an adult, he couldn't leave the stupid prat behind.

Taking in a deep steadying breath, he recalled what Harry had said—before playing hero and knocking himself out. As a trickle of perspiration slid from his hairline, down his jaw, neck, and past his collar, Draco bit his lip in thought. What is like fire…but not?

His brows popped up, and a self-satisfied grin bloomed on his face. Stretching out his wand arm above his head, Draco cast a Flame-Freezing Charm. The room remained engulfed in retina-searing light for the span of two full breaths.

As dark spots danced across Draco's vision, the temperature within the trophy room changed from being like an unbearable oven to being more like an uncomfortable sauna. His exhale of relief caught in his throat and turned into a rough coughing fit. Swallowing despite the soreness, he faced the oblivious Gryffindor. Knees touching Harry's side, Draco tried rousing him, with no success.

After Draco's fingers lightly grazed Harry's famous scar, he pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief from his dark-navy-blue robes. He charmed the square of fabric ice cold and placed it on Harry's forehead, forcing himself to leave Harry's side. Time was running out.

Even though the smaller fires in the periphery of the room, along with the massive one in the middle, could no longer cause physical injury, due to the nefarious pooling magic, they were still increasing in size. It would only be a matter of time before Draco's spell frayed, from being overstretched, and failed. If that happened, the magical conflagration would soon burst through Hogwarts' defences, allowing fire to hemorrhage into the rest of the school.

Draco flung spell after spell in an attempt to thwart the blaze but, no matter what he did, the fire would only fall back a moment before rebounding.

He snarled in frustration and yanked at his sopping shirt collar, his clothes once again soaked through with sweat. Instead of spelling them dry for the third time, wasting his precious magical reserves, Draco tugged an arm free from his robes.

A wet splat and muted griping began kindling Harry's awareness. He could see orange-red light shining through his closed eyes. Slowly lifting his heavy eyelids, flakes of grey ash fluttered on his lashes.

Craning his neck, wincing as his burnt skin stretched, Harry spotted Draco facing away. He was about to call out but stopped himself, wondering what the deuce Malfoy was doing.

Harry could see that Draco was no longer sporting his outer robes, and the wizard's elbows, which jutted from either side of his body, were moving in a rhythmical fashion. With a sharp movement, Draco whipped off his unbuttoned waistcoat and tossed it behind him without so much as a backwards glance.

Biting his lip, Harry vacillated between letting Malfoy know he was awake or enjoying being able to watch Draco continue to shed off his garments. Feeling his cock fill with blood, Harry shuddered out a breath and decided to remain silent.

Next, Malfoy pulled his white shirt from his dark trousers and began unfastening a multitude of pearl buttons. When Draco's shirt landed next to Harry's head, even with the strong odor of blackened carbon in the air, Harry could still smell Draco's earthy scent and expensive cologne. Wishing he could bury his nose into Draco's neck and taste his skin, Harry's hard member pulsed with want.

Lastly, before he would be bare-chested, Draco gripped the bottom of his damp, nearly see-through, white-cotton vest and pulled it over his head. When it made contact with his cinereous hair, coated in a soft layer of hoary powder, the article of clothing caused his loose queue to come undone. The freed blond strands swayed in the strong, hot updrafts.

Arms still trapped over his head in the straps of his shirt, Draco turned around and stilled, finding Harry hungrily admiring his gleaming body, beads of sweat trickling down his sleek, vanilla-colored skin.

Harry swallowed hard in guilt but couldn't look away as Draco scrunched the fabric into a ball and wiped his face, neck, and chest.

"Potter," Draco shouted delightfully, causing Harry to jerk and meet his gaze. "You're not going to lose consciousness again are you, simply from viewing my sheer magnificence?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry scowled, bending his legs to hide his hard-on. "Why were you stripteasing the fire, anyway? I know you want to get rid of it, but there are better ways."

Narrowing his eyes, Dracco snorted. "At this point, I'd strip bare and dance a jig, if it would work." Draco swung his wand towards the growing inferno and jabbed towards it with each word. "I've. Tried. Everything!" He looked down at Harry and let his arm flop back to his side. "It's become too powerful. Hogwarts is done for."

Amused by Draco's melodramatic behavior, Harry inquired, "What have you tried?"

"Everything. I've even tried Pink Magic. Pink!" Draco's lip curled with disgust. "That branch of magic always leaves a sickeningly sweet taste in my mouth."

"Perhaps…what's needed is a tandem attempt," Harry tentatively volunteered, licking his lips while staring at Draco's.

Draco lifted a brow, imagining many delicious scenarios. "What did you have in mind, Potter?"

"How's your Transfiguration, more specifically, your Transformation?"

Not the reply he was hoping for, Draco sighed. "More than adequate."

Harry, becoming hopeful, excitingly asked, "Do you know the wand movement for Vitrum Totalis?"

After Draco huffed out his nose and nodded, Harry smiled. "Excellent."

Malfoy crossed his arms, bringing his well-toned musculature into focus. "Just to be sure, Potter. The fumes haven't gotten to your head; have they?"

"No, Malfoy," Harry ground out, trying to ignore Draco's alabaster physique, which was as perfectly sculpted as a Renaissance masterpiece. "I'm sure." Grunting as he scooted into a sitting position, Harry said, "I don't think I'm capable of standing, but I can still spell well enough from down here."

Without warning, the room started to shake and a loud crack sounded. Waves of heat, each one hotter than the last, began inundating the space.

Simultaneously, both wizards turned to face the mounting firestorm, Harry wrapping an arm around Draco's calf.

"Now!" Harry yelled.

Casting in sync, they channeled their combined magic at the elemental nightmare. Both could feel the other's power. Harry's was clean and sultry like diving into the Great Lake on a hot summer day, and Draco's was refreshing and exhilarating like flying a broom over the Scottish hills in the sunny winter.

It felt like an eon but, finally, every fire was motionless. Together, the two wizards had transformed the clusters of flames into luminous glass. Drained, the men collapsed: Harry onto his back and Draco onto his knees. Harry was so weak that when he asked if Malfoy was okay, he couldn't even raise a comforting hand to Draco's back like he wanted.

Light from the full moon filtered past the diamond-paned windows and through the dissipating haze, to twinkle off the smooth, shapeless structures. While admiring the crystalline forms, Draco and Harry felt the entire room jolt as it contracted from the lack of magical pressure. They watched with dread as the tip of one flame broke off and plunged to the stone ground, shattering.

With the piercing snap of cracking glass, fissures formed looking like bloodless veins. Soon after a few falling pieces managed to cut the wizards' vulnerable skin, Draco sheltered Harry's body and cast a protection charm. Glass pinging off the clear barrier caused Draco to encircle his arms even tighter around Harry.

The sound of smashing glass was earsplitting. The collapsing crystal sent shrapnel in every direction—but the shield held.

Except for their harsh breathing the room went silent. Draco, covered in dripping, bright-red wounds, unsteadily lifted himself off of Harry.

Harry softly chucked. "Playing hero, Malfoy?"

Wiping blood away with his thumb from Harry's cut cheek, Draco smiled. "Thought I'd give it a go at it."

"So…how was it?"

With a sly grin, Draco responded, "Hard."

Harry's face grew scarlet as he attempted to conceal his bulging arousal. He held his breath, straining to move an arm or a leg but, with an exhausted exhale, gave up.

"Do you need me to get Madam Pomfrey?" Draco queried, refusing to act on the knowledge that Potter was sprawled out before him, horny and completely at his mercy.

Fatigue weighing on him, Harry's lids drooped closed. "I can wait a little longer. Go ahead," he opened his eyes, sparkling with mischievous, "and seal the room."

Draco's Adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and anticipation. Without a word, he rose to his feet, his strong, gleaming torso rippling. Locking onto Harry's gaze, Draco began.

The chamber became hotter, not from an outside heat source, but from the building attraction between the two wizards. Before long, both men's cheeks were flushed and their breathing erratic.

Still sensitive to Draco's magic, Harry groaned, wishing he could touch himself, when he felt the other wizard's magic begin to surge.

Focusing on Harry's dilated, gem-like eyes, Draco swore when, what power he had left, enveloped the space as he came hard.

Sore, singed, and completely spent, Draco crumbled onto the floor. He hoarsely chuckled. "Potter, it's been awhile since I've said it but—I hate you."

Harry, still frustratingly rock hard, laughed. "I hate you too, Malfoy."

---

Fourth Floor

Multicolored liquid leaked from the host of portraits adorning the soaring walls of the Grand Staircase. Some of the painted subjects grumbled, having to traverse in knee-deep flood water. Others searched for higher ground, hiking up the bottom of their robes. Draco stifled a laugh, when in one frame, he caught sight of Severus's profile standing resolute, watching Dumbledore float on his back with an iced beverage on his stomach.

The meddlesome prank was clearly still affecting many facets of Hogwarts' magic. This morning during breakfast, the Headmistress, concentrating her steely gaze primarily on the Slytherin table, had once again implored the culprits to come forward—no one did of course. He would have been exceedingly disappointed if someone from his house had been stupid enough to admit guilt. Not only would it have made his house look incompetent, it would most likely have decreased the amount of time Har—Potter and he could…talk about their academic interests with one another, like they did last night while recuperating in the infirmary.

The stairway Draco was on jerked to the right, sending water cascading in a new direction and onto unsuspecting students down below. Because of the slick steps, he held on the banister with both hands until it came to a complete stop.

A rumble of thunder echoed down the corridor as Draco resumed his quick pace. Today, he had rushed through his grading, ensuring he'd be able to arrive a few minutes early—to make up for his tardiness the previous evening, not because he was eager to see the git again, or so he repeatedly told himself.

With each step, the steady drum of rain grew louder. Once he rounded the last corner, Draco was greeted by the sight of the imposing entryway to Hogwarts Library. Over the entrance, carvings of the nine great Greek Muses were easily identifiable by their emblem. Clio the Muse of History was front and center holding her symbol: a scroll. Statues of Hermes and Athena, both deities of wisdom, towered on either side of the archway and held the large oak doors open.

Reaching the threshold, Draco scanned the enormous room. Fat raindrops showered over the entire space from black clouds high above. Five floors of large balconies surrounded the open study area in the middle and housed thousands of shelved or floating books. A charm Madam Pince had placed on every book protected them from the downpour, but everything else exposed to the precipitation was sopping wet.

The center of the vaulted chamber was filled with oversized floating umbrellas, each one easily sheltering an entire table. Colorful moving pictures decorated the circular shrouds. One, clearly covering students from his house, had iridescent snakes hypnotically slithering in a never-ending pattern. He sneered at the sight of another umbrella, which pictured fluffy rodents, happily hopping about and chewing on various produce.

A white-blue flash and sparks filled the room as lighting collided with the newly installed silver netting suspended beneath the entire ceiling. The sizzling current followed a winding metal wire round and round, down each floor, to a cage on the librarian's desk. The insatiable Lightning Bird, swinging to and fro within the enclosure, squawked noisily in delight.

As soon as both the magical creature and the following crash of thunder quieted, the ill-tempered witch held her wand to her throat and screeched, "Doors will close in fifteen minutes!"

Before entering the library, Draco removed his wand, holding the handle in a fist. A quick spell later and the circular area above his head distorted like light traveling through water.

Remembering where Potter and his Gryffindor nuisances tended to sit, Draco, protected with his invisible umbrella, gave a courteous nod to Madam Pince and turned left, towards dark wooden steps. As he climbed to the uppermost balcony, the stair liner squished with every step.

After navigating through thick cloud cover and arriving in an area free from mist, Draco reached the secluded Muggle Studies section: where he knew Potter would most likely be—and indeed he was.

Harry sat comfortably at the solitary table, a blanket wrapped snuggly around his shoulders. A lamp, which provided much needed light, rested amidst piles of notes, books, and balled up pieces of paper. He absentmindedly tapped the tip of his feather pen on an open page of his notebook as he read from a heavy tome. After dipping his quill in an inkwell, he commenced transcribing a passage.

Stepping under the cover of the umbrella hovering over Harry and his work, Draco ended the rain shield charm over his head and stored his wand. He glanced up and saw the image of a shiny gold snitch, flitting from edge to edge, appearing as if it were trying to leap from the material.

Draco tiptoed behind him and leaned in close to Potter's ear. "You look cozy."

Harry's back shot ramrod straight—as did another part of his anatomy—and his body shivered from the feel of Draco's hot breath on his neck. He turned his head to berate Malfoy but, instead, his eyes widened when their lips lightly brushed one another's.

Jerking back and gazing into Draco's just-as-wide eyes, Harry went on to duck his head and huddle over the table.

As his shaky hand resumed writing, Harry managed to calmly respond, "It's where I've been spending most of my time when I'm not running to the kitchens for a quick bite to eat or checking in at the Ministry. You're early…missed me?"

"Don't be preposterous. I'm only showing you a professional courtesy—since I was held up yesterday."

Harry snorted. "Whatever you say." Patting the space next to him, he offered, "You can take a seat. I'm almost finished."

Piqued from feeling discomfited and having to wait, Malfoy folded his arms tightly across his chest and sneered. "I think I'll stand."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself."

Draco watched Harry as he flipped through bookmarked pages of the thick book from the restricted section, scribbling phrases he, on the spot, translated from Latin to English.

A drop of ink fell when Harry's hand stilled. "This sentence is giving me a bit of trouble. Would you mind taking a look?"

"Harry Potter…the already world famous Unspeakable, not knowing a simple Latin phrase.

"Unlike you," Harry smoothly replied, "I wasn't taught the classical languages from an early age—"

"Don't get your robes in a twist, Potter. I was only having a bit of fun—at your expense." With a toothy grin, he leaned in behind Harry's shoulder to get a better look.

As Draco reviewed the paragraph to garner more information about its context, Harry broke out in gooseflesh, feeling the rise and fall of Malfoy's chest against his back.

He cautiously turned his head and saw Draco biting his bottom lip in thought. Harry couldn't help but crack a crooked smile and admire Draco's jawline.

Malfoy hastily straightened and stepped back. "Am I reading this right?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked with a gleam in his eyes.

Hands clenching, Draco hissed, "Don't play a fool, Potter. You know very well what I read."

Harry laid down his quill, swiveled around on his arse, and placed his legs down on the other side of the bench, caging Draco between his thighs.

Increasing the tension, down below, Madam Pince yelled, "Doors closing in five minutes! All students out!" She waved her wand, and every umbrella, including the one above Harry and Draco, collapsed shut. The students' disgruntled groans were drowned out by the beating rain.

The storm flashed and shook the room with more lightning and thunder. Cold, large raindrops quickly began soaking the two wizards who still stared at each other.

Harry's glasses fogged up from his body heat and, without breaking his gaze, he took them off, tossing them onto the table behind him. Letting the blanket on his shoulders drop, he snatched both of Draco's wrists and loosely cuffed them as he rose to his feet.

Lungs tight and cock hard, Draco halfheartedly resisted, falling into Harry's deep green eyes.

Harry slowly tilted his head and pressed his lips against Draco's, giving the other wizard plenty of time to stop him. Draco remained as still as a statue for a few moments before finally closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss. With a smile, Harry slipped his tongue between Draco's lips, encouraging him to allow access. Moaning in assent, Draco complied, savoring Harry's taste.

As the two men's tongues explored, Harry released his hold on Draco's wrists, slipping both hands under his robes and around his waist, pulling their bodies closer. They groaned from the friction of their groins rubbing against each other.

Draco wrapped one free hand around the back of Harry's rain-slicked neck; the other was placed on Harry's face, stroking his smooth cheekbone with a thumb.

Harry reluctantly broke their kiss, panting. "Ready?" he asked breathlessly, eager to continue.

Draco swallowed, licked his reddened lips, and nodded.

Both took a deep breath and said in unison, "Vobiscum, me dabo." With you…I will.

Magic pulsed, then again. Power unlike either had ever felt consumed them. Both were holding the other in a vice grip as magic swirled from them, around them, and between them. At first, the two wizards instinctively fought against the spell, which wanted to merge their magic but, finally, they surrendered. At once, both men closed their eyes and sighed in pleasure as their magic settled like the first rain soaking into the earth after a long, hard winter.

They quickly sunk back into their previous embrace, grinding against one another with no inhibitions. A constant stream of their combined magic flowed throughout the library and, soon, the only sounds that could be heard were from their passion and the plop of water dripping into numerous puddles.

With the sweet fragrance of plum blossoms filling the air, Harry's movements went from frantic to tender. He opened his eyes and pulled back, a warm smile spreading across his face. Draco's face was flushed the same soft pink as the multitude of delicate petals slowly raining down from the dispersing clouds around them.

"You're so beautiful," Harry whispered. He lightly kissed Draco's closed eyelids tipped with golden eyelashes. "I've wanted you for so long…"

Draco's heart began to beat frantically at Harry's heartfelt words. No, what he's saying can't be true. His eyes blasted open.

"I know that you find me attractive—and that you clearly want to fuck me." Draco shoved Harry away. "But you don't need to pretend you actually care. That's going a step too far, Potter."

Whipping his robes open and shut to clear them of petals, Draco snarled, "I won't be made a fool of," and he fled from a stunned Harry.

---

Fifth Floor

Harry paused mid-step in the long, drafty hallway when he heard the quick tap of shoes echoing up from the spiral stone stairwell behind him.

Turning around with a swirl of his flowing robes, he watched Malfoy ascend, wearing fitted-dark-purple, nearly black, robes. Harry's pulse sped up, and his cock twitched. Keeping his posture relaxed, he waited for Draco to approach.

"You came."

Draco scowled. "About last evening—"

"I wanted to apologize about that," Harry quickly interjected, not wanting to scare off the wary Slytherin. "I…got caught up in the moment, and…I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"So it's understood…what's between us, or rather, what isn't between us," Draco stressed, nose flaring. "What we'll be doing, although enjoyable, will only be for the sake of fixing Hogwarts—nothing more."

Harry managed not to show how crestfallen he felt and politely bobbed his head and smiled.

With night-filled windows to their left and locked rooms to their right, both men continued down the dim corridor in uneasy silence. They reached the end of the hall and stopped before a glossy, white door. Located to the right of it stood the statue of Boris the Bewildered, whose expression looked as lost as the two wizards'.

Harry nervously bit his lower lip, glancing from the corner of his eye at Draco, who had his gaze fixed straight-ahead. "Based on yesterday's results," Harry said, glimpsing a tic in Draco's tense jaw, "I know we can condense the process of counteracting the prank's magic and sealing the room."

Sneaking a peek at Harry's striking profile, Draco's mouth went dry, and he forced down a swallow. The traitorous organ in his trousers began to harden as he recalled how wonderful Harry's body had felt: his soft lips, strong hands…thick—

"Yes, Potter, I'm well aware." Draco had wanted to respond in his usual sharp, contemptuous manner, but it had come out sounding more throaty and aroused.

Slowly smiling, Harry asked, "Ready to put theory to practice…Draco?"

Draco clenched his teeth. "Potter, no funny business. Let's keep things as professional as possible." After unsheathing his wand, he barked, "Lemony fresh," and the door to the Prefect's bathroom squeaked open.

As soon as the entrance cracked open, freezing water and chunks of ice spilt out. The privacy spell on the room also deactivated, and the loud tumult of crashing, shattering, and splashing filled the passage.

The two wizards jumped back as hail, the width of a hand, exploded on the stone floor in front of them.

Harry shot a flare into the pitch-black room. As the blood-red sparks began to die, the fading illumination revealed a large chandelier, hanging broken at a dejected angle with only a few candles still remaining. Its metal frame rattled and creaked as it was pummeled by fist-sized spheres of frozen water. A slick layer of loose, bumpy ice coated the floor but, thankfully, the magically heated floors kept it from growing too high.

Pointing his wand towards the ceiling, Harry shouted, "Protego Maxima Fianto Duri Repello Inimicum!" A bluish-white light flew from his wand and expanded, flickering in and out, clashing with the existing malicious magic.

Due to their past successes, the prank had been weakened enough, and Harry's charm held—although it wasn't nearly as large as he would have liked.

The spell caused Draco to shiver in remembrance of when it had been used in a last-ditch effort to protect Hogwarts from Voldemort and his army. Not wanting to look at the dark, casket-sized opening any longer, he fixed the chandelier and relit its candles, bringing glowing warmth to the frozen space.

Draco stiffened when Harry smiled and squeezed his arm in thanks but, before he could say a word, Harry flicked his wrist and strode in, a path melting before him.

Quickly following, Draco grimaced as ice water swamped his shoes and saturated his socks. As they walked, he attempted to study the room but, knowing what was to come, his gaze kept getting pulled back to Potter.

Halting near the edge of the pool-sized, sunken bathtub, many of its faucets dented and bent, both men took in their surroundings. The single portrait in the room that usually showed a flirtatious mermaid was battered and vacant, and numerous cracks and gouges littered the white marble walls.

The above partial shield disintegrated any hail that made contact but, further into the room, balls of ice continued to soar through the air, either ricocheting against hard surfaces at sharp angles or splashing into the far side of the slushy tub.

While Potter was busy observing the magical bulwark overhead, Draco took advantage of Harry's diverted attention. Squatting down, Draco unzipped Harry's trousers, pulling out his semi-erect cock. Draco's rationale was that this would keep them from having to suffer through an awkward conversation or allow Harry the opportunity to take control. He wouldn't let Potter get the upper hand and screw with his mind again.

Harry gasped and looked down in disbelief when he felt Draco's warm hand surround his quickly hardening shaft. A deep moan rumbled in his chest when Malfoy flicked his tongue out to taste a clear drop of pre-cum. Without hesitation, Draco then shoved Harry's thick cock as far as he could down his hot, wet throat.

Neck stretching taut, mouth gaping open, a long, strangled groan erupted from Harry's throat. He lightly rested his hands on Draco's head, causing him to regard Harry with trepidation. Harry wanted to feel more, but not in the way Draco was thinking—never in a way that would cause Draco harm or discomfort.

Taking one tail of the black ribbon that held back Draco's hair, Harry slowly tugged it loose, freeing a cascade of pale-gold strands.

A low sound vibrated around Harry's long member as he massaged Draco's scalp and ran his fingers through the other wizard's fine hair.

Draco hated that such simple touches from Potter could hold so much pleasure. In retribution, he commenced skillfully teasing with his teeth, playing with Harry's foreskin, and sucking with enough force that his cheeks became deep hollows.

"Fuck, Draco," Harry's voice husked, not realizing he had used Malfoy's first name, "feels so bloody amazing…" Breath huffing, Harry warned, "We haven't cast the spell yet…"

Mischievously swirling his tongue around Harry's glans, Draco caused Harry to grit out a slew of profanity.

"I-If you don't stop, I'm going to come."

Relishing how quickly he had caused Harry to nearly come undone, Draco reluctantly released the delicious cock.

The tip of Draco's tongue slid out to lick his blood-swollen lips, momentarily enthralling Harry.

"Potter," Draco shouted, looking annoyed, "the spell?"

Eyes heavily dilated, Harry nodded.

In concert, both wizards spoke the short Latin phrase. This time, their magic didn't fight but welcomed the other's. Draco had been purposely withholding his hands, keeping them fisted at his sides, but the spell seemed to draw him forward. His palms glided up Harry's muscled calves and thighs to his well-toned arse. After tightly squeezing both cheeks, he returned his mouth to Harry's dripping cock, earning him another profanity-filled praise.

Appreciating Harry's scent, which consisted of his natural musk and sandalwood soap, Draco removed one hand to rub against the rock-hard bulge in his own trousers.

They grunted in unison as power unexpectedly surged from them. The combination of pleasure from Draco's mouth and magic was too much, and Harry's legs gave out, causing him to collapse onto his arse.

Firmly grasping Harry's thigh, Draco, mouth still securely latched on, gracefully followed him down.

The two men closed their eyes, Draco because he was afraid Potter would see how much he was affected, and Harry because he was afraid the sight of Draco's beautifully flushed faced would bring him over.

A few moments later, something tickled Draco's right ear and, glancing up, he snorted in amusement.

The bathroom was no longer filled with the blaring clap of hail but with quietly floating bubbles.

Harry, realizing he was able to hear a sound as soft as a snort, flung open his eyes. He smiled and for a second, admired the clear, prismatic spheres drifting about, before he began reciting the incantation to seal the ceiling.

With each utterance of the spell, Harry's voice grew more guttural, Draco's mouth rising and falling at the same tempo of his words.

Both men cried out in bliss as the spell reached its climax, Harry shooting rivulets of come down Draco's welcoming throat, and Draco pumping fresh, hot jism into his trousers.

As they gasped from the strength of their mutual orgasms, they allowed their tired bodies to relax, Harry lying back on the warm ivory marble floor, and Draco resting his head on Harry's stomach.

Harry chuckled, causing Draco's head to bounce up and down. Tentatively, he inquired, "So…see you tomorrow?"

"Shut up, Potter." Draco sighed, wanting to bask in the moment a little longer before he had to leave.

After the Clock Tower struck nine times, Draco forced himself to his feet, swiftly cleaning and drying his garments. While Harry busily attended to himself, as well, he was in the process of turning towards the exit, when a stray piece of ice found its way under his right shoe. In an attempt to save himself, Draco grabbed onto Harry's arm, but his momentum caused them to topple over and plunge into the chilly sudsy bathtub.

Both sputtering, teeth chattering, they glared at each other.

Harry inhaled, getting ready to fume, but before he could, Draco snarled, "Shut. Up. Potter!"

And Moaning Myrtle's snorting giggles followed the shivering wizards as they stomped out.

---

Sixth Floor

From the boy's bathroom, the scraping sound of metal blades cutting into ice and carefree laughter greeted Harry. Cracking a smile, he placed a No-Slip Charm on his soles and strode in.

Stepping onto a sheet of ice, a light icy sprinkle rained down on him. The entire space, lit with the pleasant glow of gas lamps and covered in a thick layer of frozen precipitation, sparkled.

One teen spotted him and, eyes widening, quickly slid past him towards the exit.

After Harry cast a blaring Cacophony Hex, the rest of the student's knew their fun was over and made a hasty retreat, skating by.

Passing rows of white porcelain sinks, toilets, and dark wood lockers, he reached the threshold of a large communal shower area.

Harry stood transfixed when he spotted Draco expertly gliding across the makeshift ice rink. Leaning against the entrance, he admired Draco as he flawlessly performed a tight corkscrew spin, his artic-blue garments whipping around his tall, lithe frame.

Funny how time changes things Harry thought. The last time Draco and he had been in this space, they'd been trying to seriously maim each other, Harry nearly killing him by unwittingly using the Sectumsempra curse, but now… Harry's shaft began to strain against the fabric of his pants, lusty fantasies filling his mind.

As he continued to skate meandering paths around the space, Draco commented, "I thought the ice storm would be worse."

Blinking a few times, Harry raised his brow in question. "Hmm?"

Draco smirked and reiterated, "The…storm."

"Oh," Harry said in understanding, ears turning the same shade of red as the walls in the Gryffindor common room. "Our joined magic did more than just put a stopper on the floor below; it also severely crippled the prank's intensity."

Not wanting to be one-upped, with a grin, Harry waved his wand and melted a portion of ice, reforming it into a—completely naked—ice sculpture of the proud Slytherin.

Draco slowly circled the creation, holding his pointed chin in contemplation. "A very close representation, Potter, but," he raised a brow, slowly smiling, "it isn't quite to scale."

To that, Harry abruptly stopped his chortling, his stiff rod throbbing.

Chuckling to himself, Draco knelt down and transfigured his footwear back into a regular pair of leather plain-toe shoes. He also vanished the effigy of himself standing wide-legged, playfully biting a forefinger, and lightly touching a nipple. Bloody Gryffindor! Even though the statue was humorous, it was also very sensual. And knowing that Potter had imagined him in such a fashion…

Draco gasped when he bumped into Harry, who had snuck up behind him, and this time, Harry didn't shy away, instead pushing his engorged cock harder against Draco's arse.

Keeping in contact with Harry's protruding arousal, Draco slowly turned his body to face the other wizard, loving the throaty moan he was able to elicit.

"I can tell you're ready to begin," Draco husked.

Harry gave a silent nod, the hint of a smile crinkling his eyes.

Gazing deeply at each other, they once again repeated the promise. With you…I will.

This time something stirred within Draco's heart after saying the words. His breath caught and, as the magic took him, he leaned forward and kissed Harry's soft lips.

Harry hastily pulled away. "I'm sorry…"

Beyond hurt, Draco was getting ready to curse the cruel git when Harry continued, "I've never apologized for what I did." Seeing Draco's confusion, he elaborated, "Here—" Harry reached out with one hand and dexterously released the top button of Draco's shirt, "—during sixth year." He popped open another button. "I was so caught-up in what I thought was true that I didn't realize what you were going through." And he undid another button, exposing even more delectable skin.

The top-half of a scar could be seen on Draco's gold-dusted chest, and Harry gently glided his finger over the old wound, making Draco shiver.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, leaning in and kissing the shiny white line.

The blood in Draco's body thrummed, too many emotions weighing in his chest, but instead of confronting them, Draco grabbed Harry's face, attacking the other wizard's mouth with his own.

While they frantically kissed, each wizard roughly sloughed off articles of clothing, a few losing buttons or gaining tears. Robes, jackets, waistcoats, and shirts were flung away, one shirt left swinging on a cross-shaped shower handle.

"Want to see you," Harry begged, before sucking on Draco's lower lip and tugging at wizard's belt.

Moaning, Draco also worked on unfastening Harry's trousers, grunting when Harry successfully yanked his waistband down and over the slopes of his arse cheeks. He hissed as Harry's hot palm engulfed his weeping member and began to leisurely pump. Draco's fingers went lax on Harry's unopened zip, the sensation of Harry's hand moving on his shaft too overwhelming.

"You weren't being boastful." Harry grinned, rubbing a drip of pre-cum around the head of Draco's thick and lengthy penis before bringing his thumb up for a taste.

Draco leaned forward to reseal their lips; however, Harry lightly pushed against Draco's chest, guiding him down onto the tiled floor, their passion having already magically banished the freezing elements within room.

Harry, kneeling between Draco's legs, smiled and said to himself, "Stunning," taking in the professor's debauched appearance: his pink-flushed face, trousers scrunched around his strong thighs, and the well-formed cock, lying against his flat stomach.

As pooled water lapped at his body, Draco sighed in a breath of hot, humid air and closed his eyes, grasping the significance of his current supine position. In the past, he had allowed himself to become vulnerable—and had nearly died because of it. No!

Draco sat up, water cascading down his back, and pounced on Harry, straddling the other man's thighs and pinning him down. Pressing his sweaty palms onto Harry's chest, Draco clenched his teeth and said, "If we do this, we do it my way."

Breathing hard, Harry nodded and removed his tight grip from Draco's forearms, a thumb lightly caressing the faded Dark Mark on its way. Harry stretched his arms high above his head, laying them down in the heated water.

An exhale of relief puffed out from Draco's lungs. While adrenalin still flooded his bloodstream, he scooted up Harry's body, shoving his trousers further down his legs. Draco's cock leaked onto the black fabric still clothing Harry's lower body, leaving a glistening trail. Bending over, he gripped Harry's wrists with one hand—ensuring he couldn't touch—and, with his tongue, prompted Harry to part his lips. Readily obeying, Harry let Draco play with the sensitive ridges and curves within his mouth.

While Harry moaned and writhed, Draco learned how the Gryffindor preferred firm bites to bruising kisses, scratches that left faint marks to barely there touches, and his nipples being pinched rather than sucked.

"You like it rough; don't you, Harry?" Draco groaned in pleasure, a puddle of his pre-cum having formed on Harry's stomach.

"Please," Harry begged, his fly straining against his erection, "want you…in me."

Draco shallowly gasped at Harry's words and would have allowed himself to burst all over the defined abs below him if not for the sake of the magic; their magic would do more good combined than separate.

As he slid down Harry's body, Draco's wet ponytail tickled Harry's skin. His shins, fully submerged underwater, came to a rest between Harry's dark clad legs.

With the aid of Harry invitingly raising his hips, Draco finally freed Harry's aching cock, maneuvering down the wizard's wet and clinging trousers and black cotton trunks. Draco went ahead and completely removed the waterlogged pieces of clothing along with Harry's shoes and socks.

Retrieving his hawthorn wand sticking out of a trouser pocket, Draco pressed the stick against the inside of Harry's legs, encouraging him to part them. "Wider," Draco demanded. "I want to see what I'll be getting into," he lopsidedly grinned.

Harry wordlessly complied, gripping the back of each thigh, his blood-filled organ giving an excited jump.

Draco tormented Harry into a frenzy by tantalizingly tracing a path along his cock and around his balls, before prodding Harry's puckered hole with the tip of his wand.

For a split second, Harry felt a warm, tingling sensation in his bum, before Draco slammed into him with a delicious burn, straight into his prostate.

Harry immediately started to come. Gritting his teeth, he murmured, "Oh, fuck. Fuck! Shit…" Almost as a cry, he groaned, "Damn it…" as sticky cream continued to land on his face and chest.

Embarrassed and panting, Harry softly said, "I'm sorry… It's been awhile since someone's been inside me."

"Don't worry," Draco assured, a huge grin on his face, his soft-dove-grey eyes sparkling. "Your reaction was a clear testament of my sexual prowess, and I'll graciously take it as the compliment it was." With a flourish of a hand, he gave a graceful bow of his head.

Shaking his head at the Slytherin's…silliness, Harry smiled—until Draco bent closer over his lover's body and once again rammed into his magically prepared hole.

Harry moaned in pleasure and let the back of his head fall back into the flowing water.

Draco increased his pace until the slap of skin and Harry's sounds of bliss echoed off the sweating walls.

Taking a deep breath, Draco recited the first line of the spell. He bit his bottom lip as magic pulsed around his thrusting rod, plowing deeply into Harry's tight channel.

Feeling so full, with both Draco and the growing magic, Harry arched his back and stopped breathing for a moment, his cock twitching back to life.

Each drive of Draco's hips was gutturally followed by the next word of the incantation.

Harry, mesmerized by Draco's beauty and power, watched as the wizard glowed with a growing light. He inhaled sharply in shock as the radiance spread from Draco to him, filling him with pleasure and a sense of awe.

Staring into stormy eyes, Harry loudly moaned, "Fuck, Draco," wishing he didn't have to hold his tongue, wishing he could say everything he felt for the man Draco had become.

Gazing at Harry's face, full of passion and…something more, Draco screamed the last word of the spell.

Both men crested, Draco deep within Harry's clamping center, and Harry onto Draco's lightly haired abdomen.

With his soaked trousers knotted around his ankles, Draco collapsed onto Harry's bare body. He nestled his head into Harry's neck, inhaling deeply.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, and they laid there without saying a word.

---

Seventh Floor

Hearts heavy, Draco and Harry walked down the same corridor from different directions, each knowing their time together battling "The Prank of Hogwarts," as it had been dubbed, would soon be coming to an end.

When both men reached the gargoyle statue barring the entrance to the Headmistress's office, they stood in silence. The two wizards still hadn't spoken since the previous night, having parted with only lingering looks. Neither knew what to say that wouldn't trivialize what they felt…what they wanted, and…what they feared.

Harry, gathering his courage, broke their verbal stalemate. "Draco, I—"

As soon as Harry began speaking, Draco sighed. "Harry, please don't." He looked down at his shiny leather shoes and gripped his wand so tightly that it molded red indentation marks into his flesh. Softly, he said, "I've—shockingly—enjoyed our time together…but I just can't."

A lump formed in Harry's throat and, with a rough voice, he said, "I understand but, before we finish this, I need to say something."

Draco was about to object, but Harry shook his head. "No, please hear me out." Taking a deep breath, he went on to explain. "Ever since the trials, I've wanted to get to know you. You. Not the thick-skinned persona, but the man who did everything he could to protect his family. The man that didn't take the easy road.

"This week, I got to know that man better," a broad smile engulfed Harry's face, "and I like him."

Face turning serious, he stressed, "You're more than just a good fuck, Draco; you're a good person and, when you're ready, I'll be waiting for you." Harry placed a chaste kiss on Draco's cheek before facing the stone guardian that waited for the proper password.

Past passwords have been Comma, Peacock, and Painted Lady. Many thought Headmistress McGonagall's choices were completely random, but they were, in fact, various types of butterfly.

Wand at the ready, Harry clearly enunciated, "Small Skipper," and the gargoyle leapt off the flagstone floor, landing as light as a feather out of the way.

After the stone wall parted, the two wizards hopped onto the spiral staircase. As the steps rose slowly from the ground, up towards the office door, the stone exit behind them boomed shut.

At the top, an oak door, gleaming with an over-polished luster, appeared completely innocuous, its griffin-shaped brass knocker grinning.

Both wizards had an idea of what was behind the door. When the Headmistress had paid them a visit in the hospital wing after they had scarcely defeated the firestorm, she had explained how she had relieved the pressure in her office.

The skilled witch had blocked flood water from inundating the castle or possibly blowing up the circular room, by removing the strong wards on the windows and fireplace and strengthening the one on the doorway.

From the outside, it was quite a sight, seeing water cascading out of the tower windows in multiple waterfalls, every so often, water gushing from the chimney like a gasping whale, a rainbow quickly materializing and then disappearing.

The downsides, unfortunately, were the now numerous leprechauns causing havoc around the grounds, driving poor Hagrid mad, and the Quidditch pitch having been turned into a beast-infested bog.

Without further delay, Harry unlocked and opened the door.

Beyond the doorframe, it was like looking into a fish tank but, instead of marine life, parchment, quills, and odd instruments swam about. The many portraits adorning the walls were protected by Bubble Charms, and the thin membranes rolled with the water currents.

The two wizards stood nervously, rocking on their feet like lost boats at sea.

After inhaling deeply, Harry kicked off his shoes and shed his socks. As he stretched an arm to remove his robes, he noticed Draco staring and smiled. He lowered his trousers, revealing his excited prick tenting his tight emerald-green trunks. A shallow gasp, followed by a flurry of fabric, made him grin even wider as Draco scrambled to catch up.

Both men managed to keep their eyes on the other's face, but that didn't help staunch the darkening stains of arousal on the front of their undergarments.

Pupils like dark moons, they both took an involuntary step towards each other.

Harry offered and open hand. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Draco replied, accepting the hand.

After giving a reassuring squeeze, Harry drew him close, causing Draco to gulp. Lips barely touching, they whispered the short-three-word spell. With the amount of emotion behind the spoken phrase, it could have been three very different words, and they kissed.

Lips fused, arms bound around the other, the two wizards entered the cold, water-filled tower. Once fully immersed, they began floating upwards, their bodies glowing with a golden-green bioluminescence and their lungs breathing the water as if it were air.

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's torso and ground their erections together, causing Harry to moan and send a school of little bubbles out of his nose.

Harry felt a tug at his feet and looked down. A bellowing curse flew from his mouth when he saw a whirlpool forming below.

Both wizards, keeping a firm grip on the other's hand, kicked frantically, but a large claw-footed piece of furniture struck them, breaking their hold and sending them flying in different directions.

Draco panicked as his lungs instantly began to burn, but Harry was able to cast a Bubble-head charm on them both, before his wand was sucked down into the black void below.

Watching Harry sinking further away, Draco hastily conjured a rope, knotting it to a support beam and around his waist. He turned himself upside-down, aimed his body in Harry's direction, and yelled, "Descendio." Frothing water trailed behind him as he shot forward towards Harry's outstretched arms.

In the mass of churning liquid, their fingers found each other's and, without hesitation, they locked their limbs around one another, holding on for dear life.

With a gurgle, the whirlpool disappeared, leaving the two men dripping and swinging to and fro from the ceiling.

Suddenly, the rope, rubbing against a sharp wood corner, snapped.

Falling about a broom's length, they thumped onto the stone floor, groaning and swearing.

At random intervals, audible pops filled the soggy air as the protective shields over the portraits fell.

A soft chuckle drew Harry's and Draco's attention.

"Well done, you two," Headmaster Dumbledore's portrait praised with a keen grin. "Well done."

"Headmaster." Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Severus," the bearded man smiled, stepping next to the former Potions master, "do you think it worked?"

"They haven't killed each other—yet," Snape droned, "so that's…something."

"Headmaster," Harry repeated even louder. "Are you the reason Hogwarts' magic went mad?"

"Of course not, Harry," Dumbledore finally replied, a twinkle in his eye. "It was Severus's idea."

"What!" the two younger wizards shouted in disbelief.

"Headmaster," Snape admonished, "you give me far too much credit. Without you convincing the other portraits, it would have never been a successful stunt."

Terribly confounded, Draco asked Snape, "Sir, why would you want to do such a-a reckless thing?"

The prior Head of Slytherin inhaled deeply. "Because I wanted to see you happy." He turned towards Harry. "Both of you."

The younger wizards stood stone-still, jaws hanging open.

"Close your mouths, the two of you," Snape demanded with a snide. "You look completely gormless."

"You're the one playing bloody matchmaker," Harry yelled at the tall, glowering git.

"Now, you two," Dumbledore admonished, "none of that."

The older Slytherin and younger Gryffindor, both wearing black robes, crossed their arms at the same time and glared, causing Dumbledore to crack a smile.

Ignoring the bickering around him, Draco mumbled to himself, "I knew it had to be a Slytherin. Why else wouldn't the prank infiltrate the Dungeons…"

Harry glared at Snape. "Can you stop whatever you've been doing?"

"I've already seen to it, Potter."

"We almost died!" Harry shouted, looking between the two older wizards. "Multiple times—"

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "The prank did get a tad out of hand—"

"A tad," Draco muttered under his breath.

"—but we had complete faith you both would manage it," Headmaster Dumbledore finished with a triumphant smile.

"It's up to you," Snape arched a brow, regarding the younger men, "what you do next."

---

Classroom Eleven

Weeks passed by, and it was the last day of classes. Students ran by feeling a mixture of excitement and sadness: eager to reunite with family but depressed to leave friends.

Harry had once again been summoned to deal with a reinfection of some sort—Dumbledore and Snape meddling again, no doubt—in one of the rooms on the ground floor, the old Divination room.

Harry kicked a pebble out of his way as he marched down a long corridor. Draco had never sent an owl, and Harry debated with himself whether he should pay the arse a visit or keep what self-respect he had left.

The Clock Tower tolled and cheers rebounded throughout the halls; another school term was officially over. A flock of third years, wearing scarfs, gloves, and hats, shivered as they exited Classroom Eleven.

After a snowball splatted on the back of one teen's head, a zing zipped down Harry's spine when he heard a familiar voice shouting from the room. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Gully!"

Once the last straggler, a Slytherin girl no less, finally left, Harry cast an Insulator Charm on his clothing and shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his robes. He entered the open door, closing it behind him.

The forest enchantment Dumbledore had cast for Centaur Firenze was long gone. Instead of tree branches curtaining the Courtyard-facing windows, long, large icicles hung unaffected in the summer afternoon sun. Instead of thick moss, snow coated the slate floors.

No longer did the heavy odor of decaying leaves fill the air. Harry inhaled until his lungs protested, smelling the crisp, clean scent, which filled the space. With the sensation of standing outside on a bright winter's day, he smiled.

Harry's feet continued to crunch through the cold, white powder towards Draco, who was marking at his opulent desk.

"Miss Macmillan, as I said, I'm flattered—"

Harry sat on the corner of Draco's desk and, in a bad falsetto, said, "Oh, sir, can't I have but one kiss?"

Draco nearly knocked over an ink jar when he heard him. "Harry," he gasped.

"Hello, Draco." Harry chuckled, his eyes shining with joy.

He tipped up Draco's face, lightly brushing his lips back and forth over the other man's, not kissing, only teasing.

"I can tell you're the cause of this," Harry said, as a cloud of warm air hissed from his mouth. "I've felt your magic—inside me… It's everywhere." He closed his eyes, savoring the delicious pressure of Draco's heady energy signature.

Staring into the melting icy pools of Draco's eyes, Harry stated softly, "You wanted me to come back."

"I…"

"Draco, you're beautiful, brave, intelligent, funny… I need to stop because you're also quite the arrogant git, but—"

Draco kissed him.

Harry moaned into Draco's mouth, crawling onto the desk for better purchase and knocking over stacks of parchment and a bottle of red ink onto the white snow below.

Draco, gripping Harry's lapels, also climbed up onto the mammoth piece of furniture. Marking Harry's neck with bruising nips and kisses, with brisk movements, he removed both Harry's and his outer garments.

They no longer needed the spell as a catalyst to attune their magic. Soon the room was filled with hot steam, and the men wasted no more time before fully disrobing.

Once Draco gently removed Harry's fogged-up glasses and dropped them in a top drawer, he place a tender kiss on each of Harry's long-lashed eyelids.

"Please…Draco," Harry pleaded, as his lover repositioned their bodies. "I need you in me again."

Draco tugged on Harry's nipple with his teeth, causing Harry to curse and buck his hips. Kissing his way down the tanned wizard's body, Draco made sure to lick up all the pre-cum that had gathered on Harry's stomach and hummed in enjoyment from the sweet, salty taste.

With his wand, Draco smacked the tender flesh on the inside of Harry's thigh and ordered, "Show me your arse."

Harry savored the hot sting and then crunched his abdominal muscles, lifting his legs and presenting himself.

After tapping Harry's tight hole once with his wand, Draco supported his lover's bottom and flicked his tongue around Harry's opening, his gasp and groan bringing a smile to Draco's face. He went on to suck Harry's balls, squeezing them in his mouth. Harry writhed beneath him and leaked a steady stream of clear liquid from his cock.

Draco fisted Harry's arousal, smearing the slippery emissions and then began to lick the remnants off his hand.

Smacking his lips, he asked in a low, husky voice, "Do you want to taste yourself?"

Harry nodded.

Draco ascended back up his lover's body and playfully stuck out his tongue.

Harry leaned up and began sucking it, causing Draco's body to shudder with pleasure. Transforming it into a soft kiss, Harry pulled his lover's hair loose, combing both hands through the silky, golden strands.

Lips a deep-red, Draco sat up, panting for air.

"No more teasing," Harry implored, rubbing his erection against the notch of Draco's arse.

Harry sighed in relief when he saw Draco start to move off him. He couldn't wait to feel Draco's thick cock in him again but, without warning, Draco shoved himself onto Harry's stiff member, all the way down to the base.

"Fuck!" both men moaned, staying completely still, trying not to come.

Harry securely gripped Draco's waist and began pumping his hips up from the table, hard and steady, worshipping the beautiful body above him.

Having Harry in him was more than Draco had ever imagined, the pleasure all-consuming. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he did, watching every emotion that flickered across Harry's face.

When they both succumbed to the other, spasming in unison, they knew the only reason they were sharing this moment was because they were wanted by the other.

Lying down on Harry's chest, breathless and grinning, Draco asked, "I was invited to an excavation in Nepal; would you be interested in accompanying me?"

And Harry's sweet kiss was answer enough.

The End

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