Broom Kit

Oneshot. Harry is in desperate need of a broom kit but isn't so lucky. During his search for the missing kits, he stumbles upon someone and ends up in a messy situation. HPDM slash. Rated for violence and suggestive themes.

AN: I just wrote it to get it off my chest. It might seem a little strange, maybe. But my brain wouldn't let me continue on anything else until this was finished. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this slightly angry version of Harry. But I'll warn you now there's not much character depth, but that isn't the focus anway.

The wind blew his black hair askew. "Enough of this," Harry said, mildly annoyed. He landed and started off to the locker room, wind pressing his clothes to his lean, athletic body, dragging his Firebolt behind him.

He threw his broom across the locker room in anger and frustration. Things hadn't exactly been going great. There was too much on his mind right now. Too much to even fly. And that's why he came out to the Pitch, flying usually clears his mind.

Harry immediately regretted throwing his broom. "Fuck," he mumbled as he stomped off, retrieving it. He examined the long scratch in his broom handle.

"Damnit! I don't know a spell to fix this!" Harry said out loud, "Now where is that broom kit?" Harry searched Gryffindor locker room finding his efforts fruitless. "I bet the Slytherin's have all of them," he thought as he made his way towards said locker room.

Upon entering, Harry's ears met the sound of the showers. Harry found it surprising, he thought he was quite alone on the Pitch. Harry stepped further in to find out who he was sharing with.

The boy in the shower had one arm braced above his head against the wall and he was looking at the floor. His blonde hair covered most of his face.

"Malfoy." Harry said quietly to himself.

Draco sensed a pair of eyes on his body and turned to meet them. "Potter?" He thought with a confused look plastered across his face.

Harry's gaze was fixed, Malfoy wasn't supposed to notice him.

"What? Never seen anyone naked before, Potter?"

Harry averted his eyes. "Just looking for a broom kit. Ours seems to have gone missing, Malfoy."

"Well, if you are implying I or anyone on the Slytherin team stole it," and Harry was, "you're wrong. Ours is missing, too."

Harry glared at Malfoy from his spot in the middle of the tiled locker room. He seriously doubted what Malfoy had just told him.

Draco turned the hot water dial to off and stepped out of the shower. In all his beautiful naked glory, he strutted across the room to his bench where his clothes were strewn. He came perilously close to Harry. So close Harry could see and feel the steam emitting from Draco's freshly bathed body. As he passed, Draco gave Harry his trademark suggestive Malfoy eyebrows; a quick rise and fall of those perfectly shaped brows.

Harry's eyes followed the dripping Malfoy to an open faced locker, where Draco finally pulled out a towel to dry.

Draco's nonchalant attitude was not what Harry needed right now. "Stop fucking around!" Harry was surprised at himself; he usually didn't let his problems take over like that.

Draco stopped what he was doing. "Does it look like I'm 'fucking around' to you?" Those words were spoken clear and slow, as if speaking to a child.

"Yes! Just tell me where the bloody broom kit is and I'll be out of your greasy hair!"

Draco's arms fell limp in disbelief. He did not. "Get it through your thick fucking skull! I already told you, there are no fucking broom kits here!" The color in Draco's face was rising to a pink tinge, and this was a rare occasion.

"Oh right, the Hufflepuffs have them all because they need to take care of their precious Cleansweeps, how daft of me!" Whether Harry was truly angry or if it was just the bother of not having found a broom kit as quickly as he would have liked was hard to tell. But the fight continued on.

"Why in Merlin's sake would I waste my time to lie to you about a fucking BROOM KIT?"

"I dunno, that's a good question. Why would you?" Harry taunted.

By this time Draco had pulled on only his black uniform slacks and finished buttoning them before he replied. "I don't have your fucking kit!" he hissed. "I, unlike you obviously, take care of my possessions, so I do not need a sodding kit!" Draco threw his towel over his head to dry his hair. This was getting ridiculous.

Harry threw his hands up in defeat. "That's right. Your rich Death Eater father and your two knut whore of a mother buy-" Harry never got to finish his thought, Draco's fist connected with Harry's jaw, knocking Harry backwards.

"Never insult my mother!" Draco's eyes flickered like angry, grey flames.

Rage flared up in Harry's normally calm emerald green eyes. He turned those eyes on the blonde man who held a smirk on his face, reveling in what he had just done. Draco was waiting for a fight. If a fight was what Draco wanted, Harry would surely be the one to give it to him.

This time it was Harry's knuckles that struck a powerful blow to Draco's smirk that he worked years to perfect. Draco's flawless white teeth were no longer visible through the sluice of blood gushing from his split lip.

Draco touched the blood that ran down the left side of his chin and onto his bare chest. That was the final straw. Both took after each other, connecting in a tussle of flying limbs and the unmistakable groans and gasps of pain.

The yellowed tiles of the Slytherin locker room were soon splattered with blood and sweat. Harry's hands were locked on Draco's shoulders as he forced Draco against a wall. Both chests were heaving while they used that moment to catch their breath.

Harry saw that Draco had a shiner forming under his left eye and the lip Harry had split earlier was beginning to swell and a small amount of blood was still running freely. Pieces of Draco's hair were pasted to his face with sweat.

Harry's face didn't look much better. He was showing early signs of bruising and blood was trickling down the side of this face from behind his hair line.

The moment of silence, save the sound of their heavy breathing, was broken when Draco spit the tiny pool of blood that had accumulated in his mouth right on Harry's chest. Harry felt the warm blood soak through his shirt and touch his hidden skin. The grip Harry had on Draco's upper torso tightened to the point where if Harry had girl nails, they'd have drawn blood. The anger in Harry's face turned into a deeper, more severe level of disdain as he closed the gap between Draco and himself, putting his thigh in-between Draco's.

Draco was preparing to spit again, this time aiming for Harry's face. Harry caught on and did the only thing he could think of to stop Draco.

Harry pressed his lips against Draco's slightly swollen ones. The bittersweet taste of blood and Draco's soft moans of pain met Harry's senses simultaneously. Harry's tounge begged for more and Draco readily responded, regardless of his discomfort, by parting his lips just enough to tease Harry. "Why does the enemy have to taste so damn good?" Harry thought to himself.

Hips grinding together in a similar rhythm as their lips, Harry's grasp slackened. Draco took advantage of this. There was no way he was going to be seen as the weak one. He slipped from Harry's hold, breaking the kiss he didn't really want to end. But, Draco told himself, Harry had to learn his place.

Draco turned Harry around and slammed Harry's chest into the wall Draco had moments earlier been held captive against. Blood from Harry's open mouth splattered the wall. Draco pressed his bare chest into Harry's back, pinning Harry's shoulders. The fingers of Draco's right hand clenched around Harry's hair, pulling his head back.

An uncontrolled smile played at the corner of Harry's lips when he heard Draco's harsh breath whisper in his ear, "Are you gonna take this like a man?"

AN: Thanks for reading! Constructive reviews are always a nice thing haha. Cheers!