"You know, I'm a better Slytherin than you," I yell from the bedroom as I get undressed from the day. I just noticed our old school robes at the back of the wardrobe, and thought to tease Draco.

"Come again?" he calls back from the bathroom as he steps out of the shower.

"You're not nearly as convincing a Slytherin as I am." I smirk.

Draco steps out of the bathroom and leans against the door frame, toweling off as he laughs at me. "Excuse me, but who was in Gryffindor again?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Doesn't mean much, if you ask me. I mean, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, which is just as good as being in, I think." I pull my shirt over my head to distract myself from Draco's body.

"Prove it," he counters. "Put on my uniform while I finish up in here." He doesn't give me a chance to comment before he closes the door.

I reach for his old clothes, and bring them to my face, smelling them. They smell like he does, even after all this time. As I slip into his clothes, I get a rush, just knowing I'm wearing what he used to makes my heart beat faster. The pants are too long of course, same with the shirt, but I can only roll up the shirt sleeves. The green and silver striped tie is the final touch. I can't even understand how I remembered to tie it properly. As I look in the mirror, I smile and run my hands down my front, smoothing the shirt out.

I see Draco's naked reflection in the mirror as he steps out of the bathroom. Turning around to show him how I look, a smile spreads across my face at the idea of him wearing my uniform.

He walks up to me for inspection. "I say the only reason you'd be a good Slytherin is because the colors go well with your eyes."

"Well, and the fact that I speak Parsletongue," I say, converting halfway through my sentence.

"Very funny." Draco bites his lower lip as he looks at my neck.

"I think it's very funny, actually, because I know how much you like it when I do."

Draco steps closer and starts undoing my tie. "Stop it, Harry," he jokes, secretly loving it.

"Draco—" he looks up from the floor, having learned to recognize his name in Parsletongue "—how about we stop this nonsense Slytherin bantering and get to our regular bedtime business?"

"Harry…," he warns again, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off my shoulders, revealing my chest to him.

I laugh, and keep on talking so he can't understand me, "How about you hurry with my clothes?"

Draco somehow understands what I want, and begins pushing me backwards towards the bed. I fall flat, my back arching when it hits the bed, because Draco's hands automatically go to the front of my pants, trying not to tear them as he pulls them off. In a flourish they're off, accompanying my shirt on the floor.

My attention is drawn back to the bed though, when I feel Draco kissing my collar bone. He slips a leg in between mine and I jump slightly at the contact, loving it all the same though. I smile as I bring his lips back up to mine, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I trace my hands down his back, digging my nails, marking him as my own. Draco moans into my mouth, reveling in the sensations, as he tries to control himself.

My hands travel lower to press his hips closer to mine. "Mmm, Draco, please…"

He comes up on his elbows and knees, the lack of contact making my groan. "Please, what?" he asks, barely touching my lips as he kisses me. He's exacting his revenge on me for speaking Parsletongue.

I growl out another moan. "Please, Draco, hurry," I beg, grabbing his hips, but they're so soft my fingers slip off. I groan again.

"Hurry with what?" he asks, coming up on his hands now. I don't answer, only grunting at him. He immediately rolls off to the side of the bed, off of me.

I lie there shocked for a second, confused as to why Draco suddenly stopped. My hand finds its way to his fingers and intertwines them, before rolling over and pressing our chests together. A sudden revelation lets me see Draco wants me to be the one in control tonight, the one seducing. He's finally giving himself over to me like I do for him every night.

"Okay, if you want to play like that." I grab his hands and pull them above his head, he knows to grab the bars of the headboard. "Don't let go," I growl into his ear.

I trace my hands down his sides as I sit up, and I grab him. He arches his back instantly, and lets out a moan as his hands tighten. I let a smile twist onto my lips. Placing a kiss on his hip, I wrap my fingers around the other side, letting my fingers dig in. Pleasure against pain. As I exhale slowly, letting my hot breath fall over his abdomen, he thrusts up, indicating his impatience to me. I silently laugh. The bars of the bed are going to be completely broken by the end of the night, once I'm finished with him.

"Fuck, Harry," he hisses between clenched teeth. "Hurry, would you."

"Are you sure?" I ask in all seriousness, knowing he's only done this a few times before now.

"Yes," he demands, thrusting again.

I grab the oil from the side table and practically pour the whole bottle over myself before I situate myself and slowly begin my thrusting into him. He moans the moment I touch him, and I have to reach up and wrap my hands around his, just to make sure he doesn't let go. After an agonizingly long time, I'm all the way in, and Draco's panting harder than I am.

"Oh my god," he moans, as I sit up, and in the process touching new parts of him unexpectedly. "Let me touch you," he begs, "please." I see his arms twitching, fighting the urge to release his hands.

"No, not yet," I demand, giving him false hope for later. "Right now, I'm in control," I say, as I slowly pull out and start my path to release and more immense pleasure.

Now Draco starts moaning continuously, entranced in the new feelings of our switched roles. He's finally realized how wildly wonderful it is to not be in control, knowing full well he is the one depended on my pleasure for his. It's intoxicating. My hands are on his hips, holding him steady as I start mercilessly pounding at his flesh, letting the slapping reverberate off the walls of our small room. I smile into his neck as he squirms away from my ticklish kisses on his neck, his moans becoming whimpers now. Finally our lips meet again and I can taste the mint on his tongue, the underlying taste that I always associate with him; cool and strong, but familiar nonetheless.

"Touch me," I whisper, feeling the beginning of the end boiling inside me.

Immediately his fingers dig into my shoulders, drawing harsh lines down my back and he pulls me in closer. He hands go wild, trying to compensate for all the missed touches between us. Soon his hands travel lower, curling around my bottom and forcing me deeper into him as his moans almost sound as if coming from pain. I know they're not though, Draco is stronger than that, also he wants this more than anything.

Then, suddenly, Draco is convulsing under me as his body contorts from his pleasurable release, the stickiness findings its way in between our hot bodies. Soon after, reacting from his tightened muscles, I follow suit and clasp onto his mouth as my own release takes over my movements.

I lay down next to him, cuddling into his side and wrapping my arm around his waist, my face pressed to his neck and shoulder. He kisses the top of my head as he fingers the marks he left on my back.

"Not as bad as I remember it last being," he comments, minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence only filled by our breathing.

"Of course not, you only remember the bad anyways—embellishing it at that."

"I do not," he defends, a tone of doubt in his voice.

"Whatever you say, Draco."

He sighs, the smile on his face evident in the sound. Finding the corner of the blanket, he pulls it over us. Since neither one of us is getting up to take a shower, we might as well go to sleep.

I'm almost asleep when I hear him whisper, "I'm still a better Slytherin though, no matter how much better you are in bed." I find enough energy to smile and kiss him back as he leans down to press his lips to mine.