I love Harry Potter. The whole fucking world knows it, including him.

The only problem?

He's my best friend, and 'isn't gay'.

After the war had ended, my parents and well, most of my family, ended up in Azkaban. This gave me a lot of time and space to basically re-evaluate my life, and that's exactly what I did. I decided that I was fed up of being a coward, who couldn't stand by his own convictions, and always acted exactly how he was told to.

So I figured a lot of things out. I realised I was into a lot of things that I hadn't given the time of day before, things such as cooking, running and, most importantly, men.

And so I began living my life how I wanted to live it. I was nice to people I met, I helped people out, I even met people for dinner and let them pay if they wanted to, rather than just shoving my thoroughly bred arrogance in their faces.

It was during one of these said good turns that I bumped into Potter again. I was in Diagon Alley on my way to Gringotts when I heard a crash. I turned around, and there was a small, freckly, redheaded child kneeling on the floor, surrounded by old tatty books…clearly an addition to the Weasley family. Instead of remembering my family's installed hatred for the Weasleys, I had gone to help the little girl, Rose, I think her name was. As I started to pick up the books, I saw someone else had come to help.

Even six years after I had last seen him, Potter looked exactly the same. Jet black scruffy hair, emerald eyes, the same round bloody glasses, in fact the only thing that had changed was the smile he greeted me with.

'Well, that's a sight I never thought I'd see. A Malfoy helping a Weasley…have you gone mad Draco?'

I laughed and explained the new me, and when I'd finally convinced him that I wasn't a complete bastard anymore, I persuaded him to go for a drink to catch up. A drink turned into a meal, which turned into drinks once a week. These weekly drinks turned into what I thought was dating, and so one night, we walked back to my house via his as we always did. As we reached his doorway, he turned to say goodnight, and I kissed him. I fucking kissed him. He looked bloody surprised, and took a step away from me, spluttering that he hadn't known I liked him, and he thought of me as a great mate, and 'Draco, I don't even like men.'

Luckily for me, I didn't miss out, he was gentlemanly enough to pretend it had never happened, and therefore saved my pride. So our friendship blossomed, and when he left his job, and therefore his home, at Hogwarts, I let him have my spare room.

I'm not going to lie to you, that decision almost killed me. It meant I saw Potter shirtless nearly all the time, it meant movie nights and him falling asleep on me, it meant seeing him when he'd just woken up, looking unbelievably sexy and gorgeous and completely fuckable.

However, it also meant that more than a few times, I'd forgotten myself and gone a bit further than friends would. Things like him falling asleep on me and me stroking his hair, then being given a look full of disdain when he woke up. Things like accidentally putting my hand on his waist when reaching past him in the kitchen…things that made it really obvious that I hadn't ever gotten over my crush for Potter.

Sure I'd done things like brought other guys back after nights out, perhaps even texting them for a few days after, meeting up for another drink. But I didn't fool myself, and I definitely didn't fool Potter, he knew that I was completely and utterly head over heels in love with the git.

So, one night, Potter came home with news that he'd successfully finished his training to be an auror. It was news that completely, totally, entirely had to be celebrated. So I went to the local muggle shop and practically bought up their alcohol unit. I returned home twenty minutes later with bags full of vodka, gin, and Bacardi…Potter's favourites. We watched Top Gun (always our favourite compromise because it has enough planes and guns and fights to fulfil his love of action, and a base love story to entertain me), and basically, as all nights like this went, we ended up playing games…a bit sad with just the two of us, but by that time, we really didn't care.

We'd been playing Truth or Dare, mostly dares, mostly to do with downing more alcohol. After an hour of the game, both of us were permantly in hysterics at everything the other did, until,

'Draco, truth or dare?'

'Let's mix this up, I'll take a Truth, because why the fuck not?' I shouted,

He paused. Swallowed. 'Yes or no, are you still in love with me?'

I felt instantly sober, there was a full two minutes of silence before I nodded the affirmative.

He just nodded slowly.

There was what felt like hours of awkward silence before he, too cheerily, shouted,

'My turn, I choose dare!'

I weighed up my options. I could definitely use this situation to my advantage. As much as I had changed, Potter was still a Gryffindor at heart, and would take any challenge I gave him. So I risked it,

'Potter, I dare you to let me kiss you for a full minute.'

He sighed like he felt really sorry for me.

'C'mon Drake, we've been over this. I'm really sorry, I really like you, that's why you're my best mate. You're really important to me, and I don't want to lose you over something like this, but I don't like guys Draco, even really great ones like you.'

I held back the urge to just cry, and instead found the false bravado I thought I'd put behind me seven years ago now.

'Don't be so wet, Potter, it's just a kiss. Just let me know what it's like, and I'll keep it stored in my memory. Just a kiss, come on, I dare you.'

He sighed, the Gryffindor pride winning over, 'fine' he said.

My face must have shone with the grin I gave him. I set my phone timer to one minute, with an alarm when it was over. Then I looked him in the eyes, slowly stroked down his jawline, leaned forward,

and kissed him.

I kissed him like I'd been starved of it for years. I was so hungry to get it etched in my memory that I didn't even notice when he started to kiss me back. It was only when I felt his tongue against my bottom lip that I realised he'd taken an interest…and I think it was about then that my world exploded.

We kissed through the alarm, hungry and wanting. Tongues probing each other's mouths, teeth gently scraping against lips, and moans, both mine and his, just topping it all off. It was definitely the best kiss I'd ever had.

After about ten minutes, I started to feel guilty. After all, the guy probably just felt sorry for me. So I broke the kiss and pulled back, watching the dazed boy in front of me.

'Jesus Dray.'

And that's all that was said before he was on me again, pulling me onto the floor, kissing my lips again, and then down my jawline and my neck, biting me and then licking it soothingly. His hands were all over my chest and stomach, whilst I dared not move mine in case I ruined this miracle that I seemed to be witnessing.

Within ten minutes, we were both totally naked. After a realisation from him that he had no idea how to go about sex with this gender pairing, I'd taken control, and was sat in between his legs, kissing and licking his chest and stomach down to his, now completely hard, cock. He shivered as I blew over the head, before gasping as I took it in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, and dipping my tongue into his slit in search of precum to taste. He breathed my name when I took him completely into my mouth, and the moaning began when I started sucking his cock properly, fucking him with my mouth. He grabbed my head and started thrusting into me, fucking my throat until he came, hard and fast.

I sucked him back to hardness, and then briefly explained the art of preparation to him. We walked quickly into my bedroom, where I retrieved a pot of lube from my bedside cabinet. Having passed it to him, I lay down on my back on my bed, and awaited the feel of the cold liquid around my entrance.

And it definitely came, he applied it liberally to the area, before fingering me slowly, first with one finger, then two, and then three, by which time I was completely desperate, humping his hand and starting to touch myself, tugging at my rock hard dick in time with his fingers inside me.

When I moaned again, Potter seemed to take it as the signal to get going properly. He lifted my legs up and put them over his shoulders, before lining himself up at my entrance. I was practically begging him by this point; I'd never wanted to be fucked so badly.

He leaned forward and started to kiss me again as he pushed his cock into me, and holy fuck did it feel good. He started to fuck me hard and fast, biting my neck and moaning as I scraped my fingernails along his back, swearing blindly every time he bumped my prostate.

Knowing that I was close, I began to tug at myself again, the sight of which seemed to turn the wonderboy on even more, as he began going at me hell for leather, clearly pretty close to cumming as well.

I finished first, shooting cum all over my chest and stomach, moaning loudly throughout. I then thoroughly enjoyed the full five minutes of extreme sensitivity until Potter came as well, spilling his hot seed inside of me, before collapsing on top of me, fully spent and overcome with sleep.

We kissed sloppily again, and then he curled up next to me, and let sleep take over.

I was terrified when morning came. I didn't want to open my eyes and find out that Potter thought it had been a drunken mistake, or that I'd taken advantage of him. My heart dropped out of my chest when I finally opened my eyes to find a bed empty except for me, and before I could help myself, I was in tears. I had honestly thought that I'd changed his mind with that kiss, but clearly I was wrong, and now I looked so completely and utterly stupid as well.

Just as I had decided that I was going to spend the day in bed feeling sorry for myself, I heard the bedroom door open, and in came Potter with a cup of tea, and a massive smile for me. He handed over the mug, and climbed into bed with me, kissing me and winking before asking,

'You got the energy for round two?'