A/N: In order to make up for the really long wait, I'm gonna be working extra hard on my chaptered fics and as a reward for staying with me I present the first of five heat-themed drabbles/oneshots. I think they're all going to be HP slash pairings.
Harry sat by the lake alone. It was June, but hot enough to be midsummer. The air seemed heavy and wet, like an oven or a steaming shower, and it made his robes stick to his back unpleasantly. He took little notice.
As time passed, he saw a bee land in the water and struggle to rise again. Its wings moved frantically, but it couldn't break free. Harry considered helping it.
He would only get stung for his efforts.
"Potter," a voice said from behind him. It was out of breath, exhausted from the heat and the long trek to where Harry was sitting. The black haired boy didn't need to turn around, for it was all too familiar to him. He had heard that breathless call of his own name many times before, under quite different circumstances.
"Potter," Draco panted wildly, clutching at the unruly black hair of the kneeling boy before him. His naked form, pressed up against the stone wall of the Room of Requirement, trembled uncontrollably and his hips, nearly bruised with the force of his partner's restraining fingers, bucked occasionally.
These meetings were secret and increasingly frequent, needy sessions of—neither boy was sure of what. Both wanting and not wanting it to stop, frustration was translated into roughness that left the two of them hiding bruises.
As Draco's head leaned back against the wall, red marks all over his neck exposed themselves. Harry, still kneeling and drinking him in to his heart's content, bore scratch marks on his back and hickeys of his own.
"Please, Potter, more…" the blond boy gasped, fisting Harry's hair tighter. Harry obeyed. A strangled cry escaped from Draco's throat.
"Oh God, I-I-"he tried to offer a warning, but his partner backed off in time to leave him groaning with the need for release. Draco knew what Harry wanted- he did this all the time. It was more of a display of control than anything, and to argue that Harry didn't' have control in this particular situation was ridiculous.
Staring down into the green eyes, he whispered, "Harry, please…"
Just like that, the Boy Who Lived resumed his actions with greater intensity, and in a matter of seconds hot liquid filled his mouth, and Draco was shouting his name, his first name, and not caring, because white, burning fire was engulfing him and he couldn't breathe of think or do anything except feel the heat.
"Potter," he said again, and Harry remembered where they were and that Draco never, never used his first name in public.
"It needs to stop," the blond boy continued, and still Harry didn't turn around. He knew instantly what was being said.
"If my father finds out—if anyone finds out—you know what it would be like. So… we're done with… with whatever that was."
Harry didn't say anything.
"I don't need you, Harry," said Draco, suddenly close and speaking in his ear. Then gone.
Harry watched the bee use its last bit of effort in a final attempt to get out of the water. Then it sunk.