AN I don't own HP or any of the characters. Smut scene! Mentions of masochism, D/s dynamic, slight bloodplay, HPDM slash, you have been warned.


They had a routine by now. Draco was used to the feeling of Harry's warmth settled around him, and he liked the sensation of Harry's breath on his skin. It wasn't often that one of them just completely broke down and cried but, when they did, Draco always left that night feeling a little more tightly bonded to the Gryffindor. He didn't mind, though, because he'd given up trying to be anxious about their nightly meetups. If someone found out, then someone found out. If his father threw a tantrum and Draco got hurt, then Draco would just get hurt. As strange as it was, he couldn't bring himself to be anxious when Harry was holding onto him like that.

Ever since that conversation, Harry had acted more comfortable with contact. It was nice, honestly, because Draco lapped up every form of touch or contact that Harry would give him like it was his lifeblood. Harry liked how desperate he was, it seemed, so Draco spent less and less energy trying to hide it.

They fit well together. Somewhere between the contact and the sleep deprivation, other touches became normal too. Harry easily ran those dark fingers through Draco's hair, but he also easily tugged on the strands until Draco was breathless in his lap. Which, Draco often had to remind him, was distracting. Arms around his waist were fine, but then so were Harry's hands sliding gracefully up and down his thighs or massaging his lower back. Also distracting, though Harry feigned innocence every time.

It wasn't uncommon for Draco to press his hips back into the Gryffindor, or for Harry to nip at his throat and leave barely-there hickeys beneath his collar. The dark-haired boy often left with scratches on his thighs or forearms. Draco's nails were brutal, but he only ever did it when Harry deserved it and, even then, Harry never complained at the pain. Often, Harry would provoke him just to get him to do it again.

But, this time, Draco was running late. He wasn't surprised to find the common room empty—though he knew Harry was there by the smell alone. Quickly, he turned the piano bench and sat on it, waiting for that familiar warmth to settle into place behind him, but it didn't come. Confused, Draco sniffed the air again but he was sure Harry was in the room. Why wasn't he joining him?

"Harry?" A sniff came from one of the couches which, Draco noticed, had a weird imprint in the cushions. Determined now, he marched over and threw off whatever invisibility thing Harry had on him, ready to find the Gryffindor asleep or giggling in wait for him. He was not expecting Harry to look so… shattered.

"Hey, what happened? What's wrong?" But, rather than snap to his senses, Harry just blinked those tear-filled eyes back at him.

"Sirius… He—" Draco didn't need to hear the word gone to understand. He half dragged, half carried Harry over to the piano bench, but this time Harry got the front position and Draco anchored his arms around the Gryffindor.

"Drake, he…" Draco didn't let him finish, though. He nuzzled into the hollow of Harry's throat the way the dark-haired boy had done to him a thousand times and took those shaky hands in his own. Gently, he guided them to the keys and gave a little squeeze.

"Follow my lead." Harry was trembling so hard that Draco thought he might just fall apart completely. But, he reminded himself, he'd seen Harry pull him back from worse and it was only fair that he did the same, even if he had no idea what to do. He scraped his teeth against Harry's jugular to get him to focus.

"First here." He pressed Harry's pointer finger onto one of the keys. Immediately, the sound managed to resonate in the Gryffindor a way that Draco's voice just couldn't. Harry straightened, if only slightly, and wiped at his cheeks.

"That's C. Then here, okay?" He guided that shaky finger to the next key, pressing twice. "This is G. Can you repeat what I just did?" Harry hesitated, shrinking back into Draco's body, and just for a second Draco couldn't breathe. He didn't want Harry to stop and that terrified him. But no, that was not the focus right now and Draco forced his attention back to where Harry's hands were hesitating, trying to remember which key was middle C.

"Here." Draco kept his voice soft and gentle, afraid of scaring the Gryffindor, but Harry followed his directions regardless. Slowly, Draco watched his student play a very hesitant C, G, G pattern.

"Good, you're doing so good." Harry almost melted at the praise, but Draco didn't let himself stop to think about that for very long. "I forgot to tell you two C's, though, sorry. Try again?" The dark-haired boy obeyed, repeating those four notes over and over again as if waiting for Draco to say it was good enough. Draco couldn't, though. He couldn't make his voice work because somehow, the feeling of Harry being so unsteady and so obviously in pain made Draco want to scream. Thank Merlin he didn't—he would have scared the shit out of Harry—but the urge was there. Instead, he settled for pressing a kiss against Harry's pulse point in reward and taking his hand again to show him the next note.

"This is A. Two notes for this one too." Again, Harry watched Draco run through the pattern and then attempted to replicate it. The Slytherin knew, realistically, that Harry was getting a little better in his arms but that didn't stop his limbs from burning, aching to reach out and comfort him somehow. This was all he could do, though, so he kept going.

"Good, Harry." He emphasized this with another kiss against Harry's throat, which made the Gryffindor shiver. "Then back to G, only one note this time. C, C, G, G, A, A, G. Got that?" Harry nodded, and immediately began to mimic what Draco had shown him. Draco didn't care, in that moment, about sharps or flats or chords or scales he just wanted Harry to stop shaking so damn badly because it felt like the floor was going to fall out from under them.

"Good," Another kiss. "This is F and E, they both get two notes each." Wordlessly, Harry adjusted to the new instruction and repeated that tune over and over again. Draco couldn't help it. Maybe it was selfish, and maybe it was stupid, but something in his chest burned at him and he wanted it to stop. He lifted his head just slightly and pressed his nose into the hollow under Harry's jaw.

Sweet Merlin! The rush of holly and oak and rain was enough to overwhelm his senses and he faltered, almost letting go before that warmth let him breathe. Harry had stilled, now clearly worried but still unsteady. Quickly, Draco righted himself and mumbled the next few notes but his mind was reeling because Merlin that was like a drug to him and it was still coursing through his system. Thankfully, he bought enough time to right himself and focus back on Harry.

"Good," He wanted to kiss the boy's throat again but he wasn't sure if he could let his nostrils that close to Harry again, so he settled for squeezing his hand. "That's the first part. Now, the second. It's pretty similar, though, and it goes GGFFEED like this." How in the name of Salazar Slytherin was his voice so calm? Draco felt like his skull was imploding and suddenly all his body wanted was a repeat of whatever had just happened, but he forced himself to get a grip. Harry was still crying softly in his arms, shaking whenever Draco hesitated too long. He needed to focus.

Listening to Harry play that song was damn near addictive. It was obvious that the muggle-raised wizard had recognized it enough to know which sections repeated when, but Draco just let him play it over and over again because it was the best thing he'd ever heard. Slowly, he dared to let himself edge closer to Harry's throat because Merlin he wanted it so badly. Focus! His eyes watched those darker hands play the keys, a brilliant contrast to the ivory while Draco's hands almost blended in, but his mind was entirely elsewhere.

He inched closer and closer to Harry's pulse point. Draco could practically smell the fear dissipating from his lover—wait his what!? But he couldn't stop to think on it long because his mouth had parted and his teeth were inching closer to that delicious, unmarked skin. How many times had Harry left little half-hickies on Draco's throat just to distract him? It was a solid idea, right? And not at all based on that fact that Draco's entire body was on fire and urged him closer.

Draco restrained himself to little nips, at first, and was pleased when he felt Harry subsequently stiffen and relax back into him. That stupid little muggle song was still filling the air, but Draco found himself losing the bitter taste in his mouth that his first memories had put there. From Harry's hands, it sounded downright spiritual.

Fuck Harry's skin tasted so good. In any other moment, that thought would have sent Draco into a panic attack but he couldn't even stop long enough to be scared. The Gryffindor tasted faintly of sweat and of salt—had the scarlet Quidditch team braved a swim in the lake?—but what really got Draco was the sharp, tangy flavor that filled his mouth. It wasn't sweat or tears or even blood, it was just… Harry. Merlin that thought drove him damn near insane and set his insides alight with something like electricity.

He hadn't realized Harry had stopped played. His Gryffindor—wait his?!—had gone rigid and deathly still in his arms and Draco scrambled to understand why. When he felt his teeth, sunk deep into the dark-haired boy's throat and just milliseconds away from breaking the skin, his blood ran cold. Every rational part of his mind said that this was wrong, that he was clearly hurting the boy his arms and had to stop. But some deeper, more primal part of him refused.

"Don't stop…" Harry's voice was weak at best but Draco heard it and, instantly, that primal part took over. He bit down hard and dug his teeth deeper until he could taste blood. Merlin fucking Salazar Godric dammit Merlin! It was not okay the way that burned through every nerve ending in Draco's entire body and threatened to drown him in ecstasy. He loved it though, he loved it so fucking much. Draco held it there, letting the metallic taste slid through his lips and mix with that tangy flavor that was so Harry that it hurt. Slowly, he came back to reality.

With a jolt, he realized Harry still hadn't moved and was now crying again in his arms. Fuck! He'd hurt him and he'd screwed this up and Draco was never going to be able to live with himself knowing that— But then Draco shifted his arm just slightly. He caught the bulge in Harry's pants against his forearm and remembered the way Harry had always shuddered at the scratches. Was it possible that he liked pain?

"Are you..?" But Draco didn't get the chance to finish that question because Harry had turned those emerald rings onto him and there was nothing but lust there. Where the hell had that come from!? Draco didn't protest, though, and Harry suddenly wrapped his fingers so tightly in his hair that he could have screamed with the pain. It dulled, though, the second Harry crashed their lips together.

If Draco had thought that kissing Harry's neck was addictive, he'd been sorely unprepared for what it would feel like to actually kiss the Gryffindor. For the first time in his entire existence, Draco felt like life was being breathed back into him. Something in him just snapped. Between the hands in his hair and the lips practically destroying his, Draco didn't think he could get any higher but then— Fuck! Harry had managed to turn around and was straddling him, grinding down again his erection. Heat surged through his body. Every nerve, every muscle, every bone that he had screamed for more and ached to reach out, to touch, to claim.

Draco made himself stop. Claim? No, that wasn't right because Harry wasn't his and this was just some grieving attempt at not feeling empty. He pulled back, and stopped Harry with a hand on his chest.

"Potter, this is is not the way to deal with your emo—" The rest of that sentence died on his lips the second Draco let himself open his eyes, though. Nothing could have prepared him for that sight. Harry, his eyes dark with lust, sat mere inches from him with swollen lips and his own blood smeared over his mouth. Draco wanted to cry. Everything in him screamed that this was right, that this was exactly the way things were supposed to be, but he couldn't let himself give in to this because, as much as the sight of the blood drove him wild, he knew this wasn't what Harry wanted.

"Harry…" But the Gryffindor was ten steps ahead of him and was already hauling them towards the door. Dammit his eyes caught the bite mark on Harry's neck, still bleeding slightly but already starting to bruise, and Draco just lost it. He wanted and he needed and he—

He stopped. Harry had pulled them into a room Draco had never seen before. The large, four-poster bed looked so inviting and a fire was already burning in the hearth, but it only distracted him until he felt Harry undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Harry, this isn't…" His Gryffindor caught him in a searing kiss—fuck, no not his!

"For Merlin's sake just let me do this, Draco!" He protested, though, keeping a hand firmly on Harry's chest for fear the raven-haired boy might suddenly topple to the ground. "This doesn't have to be because I'm sad, okay? This isn't because I'm emotionally vulnerable or upset or any of that bullshit this is because I want you, Draco. I have for months, and I swear to you this is not some pity party." Harry waited, as if checking to see whether or not Draco's fears had all been assuaged, but Draco felt like a fish out of water.

"You what?"

"I want you Draco."

"But you're…" He was going for the Savior of the entire wizarding world, or pure, or even a Gryffindor but Harry cut him off.

"Gay as fuck, we've established that. I want this. This is me, telling you that I'm not too fucked up to make a decision like this and I want you, Drake. Now please can I kiss you?" Draco would have said no—he should have said no—because he knew how bad of an idea this was but he couldn't stop himself. That deeper, stronger part of him reared its ugly head and he snatched Harry up into a fierce kiss.

It bruised and it burned and it tasted like Harry's blood but Merlin it was perfect. Harry was just as desperate, though. His Gryffindor—no! Not his!—had them both stripped to their boxers so quickly Draco thought he might have used a spell. Why would he know a spell for vanishing clothes? But he didn't have time to think about it because then Harry was trailing kisses down his chest and dropping to his knees.

Something inside Draco liked that way too much. Every inch of him positively imploded at that sight and he couldn't breathe because Harry's lips were swollen still and his eyes had glazed over and he looked so fucking wrecked that Draco couldn't take it. He didn't even let Harry get a touch in below his waist before he practically threw them both back onto the bed.

They clashed in a flurry of teeth and flesh but the only word Draco could think was 'perfect'. Harry moaned, rutting up against him even harder when Draco pinned his wrists, but the Slytherin was having none of that. He silenced him with his mouth, but quickly broke away.

"If you make a sound, Harry, I will tease you like this for fucking hours do you understand me?" Harry nodded, his eyes wide but trusting, and Draco released his wrists. "Not a sound, Harry." He knew this would be a struggle for the Gryffindor. Already, just from the kissing and the biting, Harry had proven himself to be a screamer and Draco loved it but just this once he needed something he could control. He needed something that Harry could do, something that could show obedience. Something that didn't make the ache in his chest flare uncomfortably as if Harry might disappear now that he'd started this.

"Not a sound." Harry broke that rule the second Draco touched his lips to the boy's throbbing erection. Even through boxers, the touch was too much and Harry let out a wanton moan before quickly clapping his hand over his mouth. It was too late, though. Draco had known that Harry wouldn't be able to do it—not at first, and not for very long—so he'd planned. With a malicious little smirk, Draco danced his hands up Harry's chest but, just when the dark-haired boy looked content, he dug his nails in and left bright, stinging scratches down his sides. Harry screamed, but that sound was like heroin to Draco's ears.

"I said not a sound, Harry." The Gryffindor nodded, letting out a small whimper but ultimately settling back into place on the mattress.

"May I bite my hand?" Oh Merlin. Draco hadn't expected Harry to ask permission for anything, let alone something that simple, but the instant shift in their dynamic was electric. He grinned and gave Harry a reassuring little kiss above his heart.

"You may. Thank you for asking, Harry. Be careful not to break the skin though, okay? That's my job." Harry shuddered, but stayed quiet so Draco moved himself back down the Gryffindor's body. Slowly, leisurely, he lowered the red boxers and discarded them. Beneath him, Harry was shaking with anticipation and half of him wanted to draw it out, to watch the boy suffer just because he could, but the other half ached to touch. Draco caved to the latter half, and lowered his mouth to Harry's base.

Instantly, the body beneath him went rigid. He risked a glance up at his Gryffindor—no not his dammit!—and was pleased to see those emerald eyes squeezed tight in concentration. Harry was biting the meat of his palm, trying to muffle himself, but Draco could already see that control breaking and he hadn't even opened his mouth yet. This… This was heaven.

"Not a sound," he reminded, but he knew it wouldn't matter. With absolutely no warning, he licked a thick trail from the base of Harry's throbbing cock to the tip. Harry shrieked, but Draco took the leaking member down his throat anyways and raked his nails into Harry's hips as an afterthought of punishment. It didn't matter, though. The pain, if anything, egged Harry on. The body Draco was holding writhed and thrashed as he sucked, completely unabashed and completely uncontrolled, but it was beautiful nevertheless. Only when he was sure Harry would break his jaw from all the squirming did Draco break away.

"You're not very good at following instructions." Harry shivered, still obviously overcome by the feeling of Draco sucking his cock, but managed to looked slightly apologetic. Draco just tsked, though, and smiled.

"You're lucky you're too pretty to stay mad at." That made Harry blush, a sight in and of itself that Draco vowed to make happen more often. Those emerald eyes stared back at him.

"Please may I?" Draco could guess what Harry meant, but he wanted to hear the words. He wanted to see Harry squirm and struggle to say something so taboo and so forbidden.

"May you what, Harry?" Sure enough, those emerald rings darkened with annoyance and agitation but Draco loved it. He loved everything about this entire situation, including the way Harry had started asking for permission before doing things.

"May I suck you?" The Slytherin was not unobservant, even when clouded with lust, and he heard the way Harry's voice caught there, as if stopping himself just short of saying Sir. Another conversation for another time, but Draco had noticed. He nodded his permission with a little smile but, before he even had time to react, Harry had flipped them. The Gryffindor was shockingly strong, especially given how pliant those muscles had been under Draco's touch just moments earlier. Harry could have easily thrown him off, but he hadn't.

"Harry, it's not very polite—" Draco was going to say something about manners, he really was, but the voice was stolen from his throat. Unlike him, Harry had no qualms or desire to draw this out or tease. He tore Draco's boxers off with one quick motion and began sucking and nipping at the base of Draco's cock. It was positively unfair what that did to Draco's body. The blond arched and held back a scream of his own because there was no way Harry was inexperienced with this and, in what felt like seconds, heat was starting to build in his gut.

Draco forced his eyes open. As much as it killed him, he wanted to see this and Merlin he was not disappointed. The stretch of Harry's lips around his cock was obscene and the glassy, unfocused look in those emeralds eyes made Draco have to fight that urge to claim again. Harry was having none of it, though. He took Draco down his throat in one smooth go and began to bob, which was almost too much by itself but then Draco saw it. With the hand that wasn't bracing on the bed, Harry had reached back and began fingering himself.

"Harry—" He was going to say stop, to demand to take it slow and make this undeniably good for the Gryffindor who was so scared of admitting he was gay, but he couldn't. Harry was up to three fingers, setting a brutal pace, and Draco's insides felt like they were being electrocuted with how quickly and how skillfully Harry's mouth was working him. Draco moaned, finally letting his head fall back, and stopped Harry with a hand in his hair.

Immediately, Harry seemed to know what was coming next and, before Draco had even asked, the Gryffindor had positioned himself on his hands and knees on the bed. The dark-haired boy was hard and panting, the evidence of his arousal hanging heavy between his legs. But Draco couldn't—he just couldn't. A large part of him wanted to just plunge into that tight, wet heat and appease the burning in his chest but he looked at Harry and he couldn't. Instead, he ran a hand up Harry's spine.

"So beautiful…" Honestly, Draco was shocked he had the strength to speak, let alone be coherent. Harry just purred, though, and wiggled his ass in the air a bit. Such a tease. He would have been content with that, if it were any other situation, but that same urge from before flooded through his body, forcing him to touch if not to claim. So, relenting, he moved forward on the bed and pressed Harry's chest into the mattress.

Making sure he could still breathe, Draco slid back and let his nails scratch lightly at Harry's hips as he took in that tight, pink hole. Merlin it was beautiful. Harry was beautiful—so beautiful—and it simply wasn't fair because he was driving Draco wild. He was determined to fix that, though.

Confidently, as if he'd never done anything else in the world, Draco spread Harry's cheeks and gave an experimental lick. No reaction, but then again he'd told Harry to be quiet. Rather than correct that little instruction, though, Draco became dead set on breaking Harry to the point that he couldn't keep quiet. He pressed his tongue flat against that pink hole and dragged.

Harry shuddered. Taking that as encouragement, Draco began to swirl his tongue in circles around the sensitive nerve endings and relished in the tremors that soon took over Harry's body. His Gryffindor keened, thrusting back against his face with absolutely no shame. Wait, no. Fuck not his! Why was Draco having such a hard time with that!?

"Drake…" It was half sigh, half moan, but Draco obliged the little whimper and delved inside. Harry had already been fingering himself, prepping, but the way the muscles parted for Draco's tongue was deliciously submissive and he loved it. He pressed harder, leaving little kitten licks around the edges as he worked a finger in. Beneath him, Harry spasmed and moaned.

"Hush, I didn't say you could speak." Though, Draco supposed one could hardly call a throaty moan like that speech, but the command worked either way. Harry stiffened, but obeyed and Merlin that was a beautiful thought. Harry obeying…

"Please Drake!" Draco scratched again, earning a shriek and brilliant red from the newly exposed skin, but he just laughed and pulled back. As much as he wanted to tease and torture Harry like this until he couldn't stand straight, he wanted to be inside him more. Just the word inside made that need curl in his gut. The need to claim, the need to touch, and Draco hated it but it felt so, so good that he had to give in. He lined up at Harry's entrance and cast a lubrication spell.

"Your pace, sweetheart." Where the hell had that petname come from? Draco didn't know, but he wasn't given time to process it because Harry was pressing back onto him. He'd meant it when he'd said Harry's pace, and he was not about to hurt the boy—not with this—even if he was a bit of a masochist. But Merlin Harry was taking him like a damn pornstar.

It took every ounce of self control that Draco had no to grab those hips and go wild. He refused, though, and merely watched as Harry bounced his ass back on his cock and slowly took more and more. When he bottomed out, Harry stilled.

"Please…" Draco was not about to do anything, right now, without knowing exactly what Harry was asking for, though.

"Please what, Harry?" Beneath him, the raven-haired boy wiggled and squirmed as if trying to get more friction but Draco needed to be sure. He needed there to not be even a shred of doubt about this.

"Please fuck me, Drake." That did it. Any shadow of self control that Draco had held onto until that point shattered and he snapped his hips forward. Harry almost collapsed onto the bed, but Draco barely noticed. It was like fireworks had suddenly gone off in every nerve of his body and the second he thrust he was overcome with hot, pleasant sort of burn in his chest. Not the same burning from before, not the ache and the need, but a sweeter sort of heat that fizzled and warmed but more than anything just screamed mine.

He flipped Harry on the bed, wanting to see those emerald eyes as he fucked him, but that was a mistake. His Gryffindor—no! Not… Fuck it. His Gryffindor mewled at the new angle and grabbed desperately for any kind of contact Draco would give him but those eyes did him in. Harry's eyes were blown wide with want and desire, but they were so open and so honest. They looked damn near submissive and there was so much trust there that Draco wanted to cry. No one had ever looked at him like that.

"Drake?" Draco realized with a start that he'd been scrunching his face up in an effort not to cry but, seeing the sudden fear in Harry's face, he forced himself to relax. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Harry's mouth and let their foreheads rest together for a moment.

"It's okay, Harry." For once, though, Harry didn't seem to want to take those words at face value. Harry kept their position, Draco's cock still pulsing in his ass, but reached up to cup a pale cheek and meet silver eyes. Draco wanted to scream. His body urged him to keep going, to claim, to take but he was stuck, trapped by those emerald rings.

"You're upset, though." Harry sounded so fucking worried that Draco almost started crying right then and there. He wanted this though—Merlin, he wanted this—so he took a deep breath. Slowly, he let himself lean into Harry's palm.

"No, I'm not upset. I just… I think I just realized how much you care about me and that scared me is all. I'm okay, promise." Harry was not letting it go, though. For being the one who'd been seconds from falling apart less than an hour ago, he'd become remarkably calm the second Draco had given him a command. It showed, too, in the timid way that dark hand cupped his cheek.

"Of course I care about you, Drake. Did you think that I willingly spent every night in another house's common room holding and comforting and talking with someone I didn't care about?" Draco couldn't breathe. He tried, of course, but the air just wouldn't come no matter what he did and he didn't realize he was shaking until Harry tugged at his hair. Instantly, it all snapped into focus and Draco swore at himself.

"I'm okay, I promise." Harry looked doubtful, but less worried than before. "Can we talk about this later, sweetheart?" Again with that fucking nickname! It felt right, though, and the way it made Harry's eyes go soft with trust was not something Draco could ever regret. His Gryffindor smiled up at him, gave an experimental clench of his internal muscles, and nodded.

"Yeah, later. You promised to fuck me, didn't you?" Draco shot him a playful glare, but there was no real anger behind it. Honestly, he was relieved that they weren't still talking about what he'd accidentally let slip so he didn't really care if Harry was sassy with him. They kissed, but it was quick. Before Harry had even had a chance to breathe, Draco snapped his hips up again and pulled a moan from that gorgeous, marked up throat.

"Fuck Drake!" He didn't stop, until that moment, enough to consider what Harry had called him. Drake. Blaise had called him Drake when they'd been friends. Pansy had tried, a couple times, but after Draco had threatened to hex her she'd stopped. Usually, Draco hated any kind of nickname or endearment because it implied a closeness that just wasn't there—but that wasn't how it was with Harry. With his Gryffindor, that name rolled off those bruised lips like honey.

He could feel the coil starting to tighten in his gut and he knew, without looking, that Harry's body was slowly getting more and more tense beneath him. With one hand, he snaked between their bodies and gripped Harry's cock. It was heavy, and leaking, but the way Harry squeaked when Draco began to pump was too sweet not to repeat. His Gryffindor let out a breathless groan.

"Fuck Drake I'm—" But he didn't get the words out. Draco knew Harry's body well enough by now to recognize the signs and he saw them, but he didn't stop. Rather than withhold the Gryffindor's release, Draco focused on hurrying his own and ground against the dark-haired boy's prostate as he did so. There was one thing, but…

"Drake please!" Harry was begging now, his voice choked and tears starting down his face. Draco would never admit it but the sight of his Gryffindor, spread and wanton like that, begging for his touch was the kind of thing that kept him up at night. It was delicious, and obscenely beautiful. But Draco wouldn't do the one thing that he knew would tip him over the edge.

"Drake…" It was more of a whimper now, a plea more than anything. Draco could hear the syllable break in the Gryffindor's throat but he needed to hold just a second—oh, fuck it. Harry had already seen him break down more times than either of them could count. What was one more flash of vulnerability?

He caved, and grabbed one of Harry's hands while refusing to stop pumping or thrusting, which made the raven-haired boy scream with pleasure. It was beautiful, but Draco wasn't thinking about that. Instead, he guided the darker hand up to his throat. For a second, everything just stopped. Harry looked torn between confusion and apprehension, but then Draco squeezed a bit to cement his grip and returned his attention to the boy's cock. Below him, Harry writhed.

"Fuck Drake please!" With that, Draco relented. He released his grip at the base of Harry's cock and gave one last thrust before he felt Harry's muscles spasm around him. It was exquisite. He fell forward, praying to Merlin that Harry wouldn't lose his grip now of all times, and let a fair amount of his body weight fall into Harry's hand. Immediately, he couldn't breathe. The pressure on his throat made his head fuzzy and it was just enough—just the perfect amount—for him to let go of any lasting anxiety. As Harry came apart beneath him, Draco crashed into oblivion.

Draco awoke to the feeling of Harry's hands on his face, tapping gently at his cheeks and mumbling something that sounded vaguely like are you okay. He jumped, but his body was sluggish and slow to respond. As his eyes came into focus, Draco took in the sight of Harry in his arms and, if the Gryffindor hadn't been holding onto him so tight, Draco would have collapsed all over again.

"How long…?" He didn't finish that question, though, because the relief that flooded Harry's face was almost comical.

"Just a couple seconds. Was worried 'bout you, though." It seemed that the sluggishness was not only affecting Draco, but it was endearing. He ruffled that dark hair because it looked irresistible, suddenly, and planted a chaste kiss on Harry's lips before settling back on the bed in a more comfortable position. Gently, he pulled Harry into the curve of his side. The boy fit like a glove and it was just cruel how perfect he looked like that. Eyes wide and exhausted, lips bruised and smeared with blood, entire body coated in sweat and cum—Draco wanted to fuck him all over again, just from looking at him. But he was exhausted, so he settled for planting a kiss to the boy's forehead.

"Wand?" Draco grappled, but eventually found Harry's wand and passed it to him. Quietly, Harry mumbled a few spells and Draco felt the sticky mess disappear from their bodies, as well as the bed. He glowered when the blood disappeared, but quickly forgot that when his eyes landed on the bite mark on Harry's neck.

"Did I do that?" Harry laughed, nuzzling a bit closer into his side as a draft blew through the room. Wordlessly, Draco summoned a blanket and wrapped them in it.

"Yes, you did, and Merlin I hope you do it again." Draco laughed, but he couldn't completely hide his surprise at that because he'd expected the golden boy to be bitter or at least whiny about it. His Gryffindor shuddered, though as Draco ran his fingers over the mark.

"You like being mine, Potter?" He didn't mean to use the last name, honestly, but it only made Harry smirk and wiggle a bit closer. In his arms, his Gryffindor rolled a bit and practically purred. Draco was expecting some kind of retort or rebuttal, some semblance of the fire that they'd had between them in their earlier years, but Harry just smiled.

"Would I let you leave a mark like that if I didn't?"


Thanks for reading! Please review! I know it's a lot of effort and seems unnecessary but it really does mean the world to me :)