Returning the Favor

Harry reached blindly for the ringing phone, snagging the receiver and rolling onto his back as he answered it. He looked at the clock. It read two a.m.

"Hello?" he answered in a voice raspy with sleepiness. As he'd never been on a proper holiday before, Harry had spent the previous day touring Boston and the surrounding areas along with Seamus and Dean. They finished the night with a friendly dinner with Iolanthe and her family, where the American and English wizards exchanged stories of their schools and a little bit about the war—none of the Englishmen wanted to dredge up painful memories. Their friendly banter continuing late into the evening.

"Harry!"

"Seamus! Is something wrong?" Harry sat up with a start and turned on the lamp, squinting in search of his glasses on the bedside table.

"No! Not at all, mate! The paintings—they're back!"

"Really? How? When?" Harry asked, relaxing a little.

"There was a message from Patty when we got back to the hotel room. He said a courier arrived with two wrapped packages addressed to him. When he opened them, there were the paintings. Merlin, Harry, I can't thank ye enough for gettin' me toe-rag of a cousin outta this mess. I'm forever in your debt."

"You don't owe me anything Seamus. You've been a great friend. Really."

"'Cept fifth year when I was claimin' ye over You-Know-Who's return."

"Yeah, well we don't have to talk about that anymore. When does Patrick plan to inform Dooley that the paintings have been returned?"

"Said it's already done."

"Brilliant! Night Seamus." They rang off and Harry lay in bed wondering how long it would take before Draco called in his favor.

The wait was much shorter than even Harry could have expected. When he opened the door the next morning, expecting to receive his room service breakfast order, Draco swept past him and into the suite without waiting for an invitation.

"Well, I guess being the savior of the wizarding world has its advantages," he commented, looking around the suite with interest.

"Good morning to you too, Draco, what a surprise; do come in." Harry muttered sarcastically, following him into the sitting area.

"It's Draco again, is it?" he gracefully lowered himself onto the sofa, crossing his legs and sliding a thumb and index finger over the sharp crease in his slacks. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flattering me!"

Harry stood near the door and carded a hand through his hair before lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "It's early, Malfoy. I don't become charming until at least my third cup of coffee. I would, however, like to thank you for returning the missing paintings." There was a knock and Harry received his room service meal.

"I'm sure I have no idea of which you speak, but I am pleased to note that things have worked out for you," Draco replied with an arched brow.

"Breakfast?" Harry offered, indicating the spread being laid out on the table.

"I think not. I have already partaken of a petit dejeuner. I am here only to call in my favor." He stood, a slight curl to his lips.

"And what exactly would that be?" Harry hoped his unease was not apparent.

"Dinner."

"Dinner?"

"I shall see you at half seven—and Potter, do dress appropriately. If your attire the other night was anything to go by, then I know you have it in you." He gave Harry an appraising look and sauntered out of the room, lightly touching his arm as he passed.

Harry could still feel Draco's touch, even after he'd been gone for some time. He was stunned that Draco's 'favor' was a simple dinner. He'd expected something more sinister, and the thought crossed his mind that there was still a very large window of opportunity for Draco to place him in a precarious situation. Nonetheless, he was intrigued and, he had to admit, anxious to see what the evening would bring. He knew that the Slytherin no doubt had reservations at one of the city's finest restaurants, and showing up in the same attire that he'd worn to The Horned Serpent would be unacceptable—not because of its styling—because Draco would probably think him lazy, or too uncultured to have a proper wardrobe. He tucked into his breakfast. As he quickly showered and dressed for the day, Harry shook off the idea that he actually considered what Draco thought. He recalled Dean and Seamus' teasing about him stalking the Slytherin in school.

Harry spent the morning shopping, and was delighted that it didn't take long to find a look that suited him and which he believed would impress Draco. Again, he considered the idea that he cared about the other wizard's opinion of him, and scowled momentarily as he paid for his selections and requested that they be delivered to his suite at the hotel. Harry dismissed the thought as his ongoing competitiveness with the Slytherin and hailed a taxi. He joined Dean and Seamus for lunch. The couple planned to depart that evening and take a portkey to San Francisco for a short trip to shake off the drama of their Boston adventure before returning to London.

Harry bade his friends farewell, accepting effusive thanks again from Seamus, and promised that they would all get together soon when they were all back in London. He returned to the hotel to find his purchases had been delivered and put away by the butler. It was two o'clock. Left with nothing to do for a few hours and still feeling a bit weary from the previous two late evenings, Harry requested a wake-up call and stretched out across the king-sized bed for a nap.

"I'm sure she's happy to oblige you, Harry, if you'd like. Do you have experience with submissives?"

"No." Why did Harry feel embarrassed to admit that?

"What about Dominants?" Draco asked, arching a brow.

"You mean other than being tortured by Tom Riddle?" Harry asked. Draco looked as if he'd been slapped. Harry shrugged. "No."

"Oh, that's too bad." The predatory gleam returned to Draco's countenance. Harry shifted, but maintained his gaze. "All the more reason to immerse oneself in new…experiences." Draco winked. He whispered something to Adrestia, and she moved towards Harry.

Harry shifted in his seat, unsure of what to expect. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as she approached and lightly trailed her fingertips up his arm. Harry was unprepared for her to continue walking past and out of the room, leaving the two wizards alone. He watched over his shoulder as she backed from the room, closing the door behind her. Harry was curious. She was a witch, but where was her wand?

"Are you sure you don't want me to call her back? She quite fancies you, but of course, don't most witches?" Draco was perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward as he spoke.

"I don't pay much attention to most witches," said Harry. He was horrified at the implication of his statement, but it was too late to take it back. Draco was smiling at him.

"Too chivalrous to take full advantage of the perks that go along with hero status?" he asked. "Or is there something else that interests you? Something more that you desire?"

"I couldn't say," he replied. "Why are you so interested in what I want?"

"That's what we do here at the Horned Serpent. We cater to those desires that others insist remain hidden." His voice was soft and husky as he spoke. "Whatever you wish, we make it our mission to provide." Harry raked his eyes over Draco, seeing him in a very different light. He bit his lip.

"I know what you really want, Potter." Draco slid from the sofa. "I wouldn't do this for just anybody you know."

Harry woke with a start, heart pounding. Had he actually dreamed of Draco? Even in their youth, Harry was hard pressed to think of an instance when the Slytherin had ever figured in his dreams. Since Voldemort's defeat, Draco had occasionally appeared as some memory of the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, or the confrontation in the Room of Requirement slipped into his unconscious mind, but never a dream specifically of the sneering blond himself. Furthermore, Harry's next immediate discovery was that the dream had stirred to life parts of him that he preferred were left undisturbed by thoughts of his rival.

The phone rang with his wake up call a moment later, and Harry pushed himself up. He dragged into the shower, still pondering these strange new sensations. As the shower spray rained over him, Harry decided there couldn't have been much to it. He'd noticed an odd arousal at seeing Dean and Seamus brazenly pawing one another as well. He put it off to the fact that it had been quite some time since he'd had a good shag—things had well tapered off with Ginny long before the final breakup. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and as he used the other to make work of the tension below his waist, Harry was unable to banish thoughts of Draco staring him down. Thoughts of his familiar smirk as their gazes met, coupled with the sensation of his hand upon his arm were just enough to push him over the edge and Harry groaned with a shudder. He quickly washed up and exited the shower, toweling his hair as he moved to the bedroom to lay out his clothes.

At precisely half-past seven, Harry heard a perfunctory rapping on the door. He flicked his wand and went back to adjusting his tie in the mirror. He smoothed it out and buttoned his waistcoat. Draco appeared behind him, his general sneer appearing more of an approving smirk.

"Nice tie, Potter. Who knew green would suit you?" He leaned close, still examining Harry in reflection. "A tulip knot! I'm impressed."

Harry could feel Draco's body heat, and the heady scent of sandalwood filled his nostrils. He swallowed and made a show of checking his cufflinks—simple 8mm pearls on elfin-wrought gold posts. He'd discovered them in his vault during the extensive inventory done by the goblins when the Potter and Black vaults were merged following the war. There had been quite a massive collection of jewels and gemstones including a stunning emerald, the likes of which Harry had never before seen. A few weeks later, he found a picture among Sirius' belongings from his parents' wedding. James Potter was wearing the same cufflinks. Since then, Harry had chosen them whenever he dressed for an occasion that he deemed important.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." Harry moved, intending to step away from the mirror, but Draco did not give him space. The other wizard summoned the chocolate brown mini multi-check sport coat, which matched the waistcoat Harry wore with flat-front wool mohair blend dress trousers. Draco held the jacket open at Harry's waist, and after a beat, the dark-haired wizard realized that the blond was waiting for him to place his hands into the sleeves. He reached back and Draco slid it up and over his shoulders. Harry adjusted the sport coat with a tug and Draco smoothed over the shoulders before sliding the back of his hand down his spine.

Startled, Harry suppressed his shudder of surprise by adjusting his shirt sleeves and waistcoat. Finally, Draco stepped back, allowing Harry to turn around. Harry took in Draco's customary refined appearance. He wore a single-button suit in charcoal grey fresco fabric, with notched lapels, side vents and slanted pockets. The cut screamed bespoke tailoring, and hung beautifully on his slim frame. His crisp, white double-cuff shirt contrasted sharply with the black ascot, featuring subtle green dots, which was expertly tucked into his open collar. His pale hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, gathered at the nape of his neck and held in place with a simple band of black leather. Harry thought the short time that had intervened since he'd last seen him in England certainly had done Draco no physical injustice.

"So, do I meet with your approval, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Well, as your hair has always been hopeless, I suppose it shall have to do." Draco shrugged. "The car is waiting."

Despite the rushed nature of his trip, Harry had had the presence of mind to bring along business robes in anticipation of a possible trip to MACUSA or DMLE offices, and reached for them as he slid his room key into his pocket.

"That won't be necessary. We aren't going to a wizarding establishment."

"Alright then." Harry drew his hand back. He slipped his wand into the breast pocket of his jacket, smoothing it to be sure there was no bulge. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was situated in a turn-of-the-century mansion not far from The Horned Serpent. They sat in a private dining room that overlooked the Boston Public Garden. Harry found himself grateful that Hermione insisted he learn proper dinner etiquette. It had served him well as he attended numerous banquets in his honor following the war, but he was most pleased not to embarrass himself in front of the paragon of pureblood sophistication. Draco's impressed smirk did not go unnoticed as Harry chose the appropriate silverware for each course of the meal. Harry did, however, allow his dinner companion to choose the wine. As he rarely drank, this was an area in which he occasionally felt a bit out of his depth.

"I must admit, Draco, this was certainly not what I was expecting when you said I would owe you a favor," said Harry, sinking a spoon into his lobster bisque.

"Oh? Were you hoping for something more sinister?" Draco smirked and took a bite of his salad.

"That has rather been our history."

"I'm almost insulted, Potter." He reached for his wine glass. Draco had chosen a cabernet sauvignon which paired well with both of their entrée choices. "Almost. If you prefer, I can arrange to accommodate your expectation." He leveled a measured look at Harry over his glass as he sipped.

Harry inwardly chastised himself again for being the first to look away. He studied his wine glass to avoid the shiver that prickled his skin when those icy grey eyes met his own green ones. Harry took a sip of the wine, willing his senses to relax.

"This cabernet is superb! Is it a Tuscan?" He picked up the bottle and examined the label. "Fuoco Serpentino, hm." He set the bottle down. The waiter removed their dishes and served a palate cleanser.

"The cabernet sauvignon is one of our more popular vintages." Draco lifted the sorbet spoon to his lips.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry tasted his own palate cleanser.

"Fuoco Serpentino is the name of our vineyard in Tuscany—well, one could say that it is mine now, as I received it with my birthright. It is a lovely estate. We didn't visit often. Mother and Lucius preferred to vacation in the city—Paris, Tokyo, Nice—although Mother adores the house in Aragon. That may well have worked in my favor. Lucius only cared about the bottom line and appears totally unaware that the bulk of our export trade has been done with muggles who can't seem to get enough of it. Ironic, no?"

Harry chuckled as the entrées were served. "I'm surprised at how well you seem to have adapted to life among muggles. I never thought I would see the day when a Malfoy would ever consort with the common man." Harry took a bite of his entrée.

"Well, don't alert the press just yet. I'm not a total convert. However, I have come to appreciate the advantages—particularly economic ones—of expanding one's knowledge of the world. What could it hurt after all? I've already experienced the extreme disadvantages of refusing to learn about the outside world." A shadow crossed Draco's face as he spoke. This time, it was he who looked away from Harry's intent gaze.

"What matters is that you learned, Draco. What you do with tomorrow is more important than what happened yesterday."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Draco scoffed.

"Perhaps. Doesn't make what I said any less true." Harry raised a brow and continued to eat. Draco rolled his eyes.

They enjoyed their entrées in companionable silence. After a while, Harry spoke up. "So, be honest, Draco. Why did you invite me to dinner?" Draco lifted his napkin and elegantly dabbed at his mouth. Harry followed the movement, his gaze lingering on the perfect, almost heart-shaped lips. He blinked, finally tearing his eyes away when the other wizard began to speak.

"I wanted to see if you would accept the offer," he replied.

"That's it?" Harry gave him a skeptical look. Draco gave him a noncommittal shrug.

"I like a challenge."

"A challenge? Asking me to dinner is a challenge? Methinks you're losing your touch. What would your fellow Slytherins say?" Harry snorted.

"I believe they would say that the night is still young," Draco replied, gesturing to indicate that he would like the cheque. He held Harry's gaze, raising a brow as he retrieved three large bills from his wallet and tucked them into the leather folio, returning it to the waiter. "Keep the change."

The driver stopped outside of a stately town home in the Back Bay, and opened the door. Draco stepped out and looked back at Harry, gesturing to the door.

"I thought we were going to The Horned Serpent," Harry said.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Draco looked at him impatiently. "I don't live there."

"Oh." Harry stepped out of the car and followed him to the front steps, suppressing a chill as they passed through the wards. "Merlin! What have you got in your wards?"

Draco let out a chuckle and flicked his wand. The elegant arched door swung open and Harry followed him inside. In comparison to the interior of the club, the house was light and airy, with pale walls accented by white wainscot paneling and golden-hued hardwood floors. The grand staircase rose from the foyer to a skylight four stories up. The place was decorated in a minimalist fashion with clean lines and nothing superfluous to take up space.

"Drink?" Draco offered, sauntering down the hall and disappearing through an arched doorway. Harry followed and stepped into a well-appointed lounge which showcased a billiard table in the center of the room. The custom table featured a black felt surface. Instead of red and yellow, the rack contained green and matte silver balls nestled around the black 8-ball. At the far end, in front of a modern glass fireplace, sat a tasteful art deco chess table with matching side chairs, the chess pieces restlessly waiting for players to take a seat. The white queen gave Harry an impatient look as he approached.

"Bourbon, if you have it." Harry examined the fireplace. "I like this sleek, modern design," he said. "It's different."

"The damned thing is bloody useless." Draco approached, holding two double old-fashioned tumblers. He passed one to Harry, who lifted it to his lips with a nod. "The only thing it can do is warm the room."

Harry snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "It's a gas fireplace, Draco. Have you considered charming it to at least take fire calls? Seamus and Dean did that. Their loft doesn't have a traditional fireplace. It's more like a modern stove."

"Hm. Hadn't thought of that." Draco shrugged. "Doesn't matter. There's a proper fireplace in the parlour, as well as one in the library." He sauntered over to the billiard table and perched on the rail, rolling the cue ball around under his hand. "So, why now, Potter?" he asked.

"Why what?" Harry asked, turning away from the fireplace.

"It's Draco now, instead of Malfoy. Why?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. He finished his drink and set the glass down on the side table at one end of the sofa. "I hadn't thought of it. Just did." He went to the wall where a rack held highly polished billiard cues. Each stick was fashioned from hand-turned ebony with diamond shaped malachite inlays decorating the handles. He picked up a cue. "Are we playing?" he asked.

"I hope you're better at billiards than you are at chess, Potter." Draco drained his own glass, sliding off the rail and taking a cue from the wall. Harry placed a few bills on the long rail.

"Only one way to find out," he raised a brow and adjusted the rack of balls.

"Keep your money, Potter."

"Afraid you'll lose?" Harry smirked, removing his jacket. Draco scoffed.

"Hardly. In the interest of keeping things stimulating, how about a challenge?" Draco removed his own jacket and ascot.

"I'm listening."

"A question for each ball pocketed." Draco raised a brow.

"No questions about the war." Harry leveled a stern look at him.

"No questions about the war." Draco nodded. "And you must answer each question truthfully."

"How will we know if the other is being honest?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"You mean you don't trust me?" Draco gave a look of mock affront.

"Of course I don't." Harry grinned.

"Tough. You'll be the one answering all of the questions anyway, seeing as you'll not pocket a single ball." Draco's lips curled into his familiar sneer. Harry rose to the bait.

"We'll see about that. Break."

"You're the guest." Draco set the cue ball in position. "I insist."

Harry took up position behind the cue ball and leaned over the table. He was acutely aware of Draco standing behind him watching, and he took a breath to steady himself as he slid the cue back over the top of his thumb. He exhaled slowly and shifted slightly, eye on the white ball in front of him. He struck the cue ball and sent it crashing into the apex ball with a resounding clack that ricocheted through the others. They watched the balls disperse until a green ball sank into a side pocket with a thump as the leather pocket took the weight of it, reverberating back into the wood from which it hung.

"I suppose that gives me the first question," Harry smirked.

"Fine." Draco scowled.

"How did you know I was in your club?" Harry asked.

"Who else would use the alias Sirius Black?" Draco circled the table looking for a good vantage point to take his shot. "Requests for calling cards always go through me and my partner."

"Partner? Who?" Harry asked.

"Ah, ah. You've asked your question already." Draco leaned over the table to line up his shot. Harry was taken by how the Slytherin even made taking up a shooting stance look absolutely elegant. He took his shot. Clack, thump, thump. Draco pocketed two silver balls. He gave Harry a wicked smile.

"Alright then," Harry leaned on his cue stick.

"Did you want to have it on with my Adrestia last night? She quite fancies you, but then of course most witches do."

"I wouldn't know. I don't pay much attention to most witches." Harry shrugged. Immediately, he was horrified at his statement as the memory of his dream came back to him. He fixed his eyes on the table as he began to move around it in search of a good shot.

"Well, well!" Draco smirked. "Next question…let's see…what's the kinkiest thing you and the Weaslette have ever done?"

"Don't call her Weaslette," said Harry, his gaze cool.

"Fine, what's the kinkiest thing you and Ginevra have ever done?" Draco perched on the edge of a barstool, lacing his fingers around the tip of his cue. He smiled, noticing Harry's ears go red as he let out a wry chuckle.

"I had gone to watch her play in the House Cup her last year. After the match, we had it off on the middle of the pitch."

Draco gave him an admiring grin. "And no one saw?"

"I believe that counts as a third question," Harry pointed out. Draco scowled. "But, I'll just say that having an invisibility cloak is terribly useful," He winked.

"My! My! Perhaps there's hope for you after all. Well, take your shot."

Clack! Thump! Thump!

"Who's your partner?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot share that information."

"I knew you couldn't be trusted to tell the truth!"

"No, I cannot share that information. Confidentiality spell in our agreement. Neither of us may reveal the other. That person will have to reveal oneself personally."

"I see," Harry replied, a bit disappointed. "Fine. I guess I have no choice but to accept your answer," he conceded. "Okay. Name one person, if anyone, outside of Slytherin House you have ever shagged."

"Merlin, you cut right to the adagio, don't you, Potter?" Draco smiled impishly. "I solemnly swear that what I am about to reveal is the unadulterated truth."

"Sweet Godric! It must have been a Gryffindor! Katie Bell? Parvati Patil?" Harry began to imagine any number of girls who might have been daring enough to shag Draco.

"Actually, no. It was Luna. Fifth year."

Harry's brows disappeared beneath the fringe of hair that covered his forehead.

"She might be mad as a bag of bowtruckles, but she earns the house cup for her oral presentation," Draco winked.

"Oral presentation!" Harry chortled. Draco moved to the table.

Clack! Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Did you ever have it on with Granger?"

"They call me the Boy Who Lived, not the Boy Who Lived-but-was-subsequently-murdered-for-knocking-off-his-best-mate's-girl."

"Damn! I totally wasted that question."

"Ya think? Proceed."

"Hmm…describe your first kiss."

Harry groaned. "Must I, really?"

"Oh, come on, Potter. It couldn't have been that bad. Weas—Ginny was mad for you once." Draco teased.

"Except that my first kiss wasn't with Ginny. It was just—" Harry sighed. "Cho was still mourning Cedric. We were in the Room of Requirement just before Christmas. The DA had just finished practicing defensive spells, and she said she wondered if Cedric might have survived if he'd known the spells. Then she started crying. I was trying to make her feel better and we talked, then we got closer, and before we knew it we were kissing. She was still crying though."

Neither of them spoke or moved for a minute.

"Forgive me, Harry. We weren't meant to bring up the war." Draco went to the bar and poured them each another drink.

"Well, you had no idea. I guess it's close to impossible to avoid it, especially between the two of us." Harry took a long drink and set his glass down firmly. He grabbed the cue chalk. "Go ahead. You've got one more question."

"Name one Slytherin you have ever dreamed of shagging."

Harry was about to say no one, when the unexpected image of Draco across the table dabbing his lips flashed through his mind. Suddenly, unbidden images from years past flooded his consciousness. He fumbled the cue chalk and it bounced across the floor.

"Me? The Chosen One? Shag a Slytherin?" Harry played at mock affront to cover his unease. He turned to the table, hoping Draco hadn't seen the flush that crept up his neck. "Now, you're just taking the piss." He laughed as he moved to take his next shot.

Clack! He didn't sink any balls. Draco took his shot.

Clack! He missed.

Harry examined the balls on the table and grabbed a swan rest from the rack. Draco stood just behind him, watching intently as he carefully placed it on the felt and lined up his shot.

Clack! Thump!

Harry took his time returning the rest to the rack. When he faced Draco again, he was leaning against the long rail, legs crossed at the ankle, an expectant expression on his face.

"Well?" he asked.

Harry bit his lip. His breath hitched for a moment as he approached the table. He stood at the head rail, examining the remaining balls on the table.

"What's it like?"

"I beg your pardon?" Draco looked at him curiously.

"What's it like? You know."

"BDSM, you mean?" Draco pushed away from the table. Harry nodded. "That's a very broad spectrum, Potter. You want to know what being a Dominant is like, or being a submissive?"

"Both—either. I don't know. I'm just—I'm curious."

"Are you sure?" Draco looked at him skeptically. His chest felt tight. He couldn't believe Harry was asking him this.

"You've asked me three questions, Malfoy. It's not your turn. Yes, I'm sure. I asked, didn't I?"

"Okay," Draco replied, somewhat reluctantly. "Let me have your cue." He held out his hand, and Harry passed him the cue stick. He took both and leaned them against the bar, using the action to take a few slow, deep breaths. It was imperative that he stay in control of the situation. Draco hadn't expected quite this turn of events. He turned to Harry, and was about to ask again if he was certain, but the expression on the dark-haired wizard's face told him that he would be hexed if he did.

"Turn around and place your hands on the rail."

Harry gave Draco a quizzical look, but the blond's expression was impassive. He turned away from him and placed his palms flat on the rail. Draco's steps were nearly silent as he crossed the floor, and Harry wasn't aware that he had approached, until the unmistakable scent of sandalwood wafted under his nose and he felt the heat of the other radiating against his back.

"First…" Draco said softly at his ear, a hand sliding up the nape of Harry's neck and into his hair. Pale fingers closed around a fistful of black and Harry felt his head tugged back. "Do exactly as you are told. If I say you do not speak—do not utter a sound. If I say you do not move—don't even flinch. If you become uncomfortable at any time and wish to stop, your safe word is 'scarlet'. Say 'yes,' if you understand."

"Y-yes," Harry stuttered.

"Well done." Draco released his hair, trailing his fingertips over the back of his neck. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Draco gently removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the soft felt tabletop. Harry blinked a few times at the loss of clear vision. His heart thudded madly in his chest as his groin began to shudder to life.

"You intrigue me, Potter." Draco stepped back and Harry lamented the loss of his body heat. He turned to look over his shoulder. "Eyes forward!" Draco snapped. Harry pressed his lips together with exasperation as he turned back to face the table. "Accio scarf."

Draco's ascot flew to his hand with a swish, and he gathered it into soft folds as he continued to speak.

"I think…" He approached Harry again and slid the fine silk over his eyes, shutting out all light as he tied it tightly. Harry began to breathe heavily. "You weren't entirely honest…" Draco reached around and slowly began to unbutton Harry's waistcoat. He stood right against the Gryffindor as he spoke into his ear, voice low and amatory. "…when you answered my last question."

Harry curled his fingers on the rail. He felt as if the room was shifting around him. How could this possibly be making him so aroused?

"D'you wanna know what I think?" Draco was speaking again. He pulled deliberately at Harry's tie, unraveling the elaborate knot. "I think…that you have dreamt of shagging a Slytherin…" With agonizing slowness, Draco slid the tie away. He pressed closer to Harry, resting his chin on the Gryffindor's shoulder as he reached around once more and began to unbutton his shirt. "I think…you stalked him—yes, him—for six years."

Harry shuddered. He could feel the slight roughness of fresh stubble against his cheek as Draco spoke. His erection pulsed inside his trousers. He opened his mouth to deny the Slytherin's assertion when he felt a slap against his ass.

"Surely, you weren't about to speak!" Draco hissed. Harry pursed his lips. "I think you were torn…" he whispered again, his lips brushing Harry's ear, breath hot and enticing. "…between despising him…" Draco rocked his hips against Harry's ass.

Harry thought he'd stopped breathing in that instant. He struggled not to push back against the other wizard.

"…and wanting to feel his hot prick in every possible way…" Draco slid his hand lower until he was palming Harry's fully hard erection straining for freedom inside his trousers. "…and wanting him to take your…unbelievable cock for his own…"

Harry stifled a moan, a whimper escaping instead. Draco chuckled softly, his breath ghosting over Harry's ear, and causing the aborted moan to escape defiantly. Draco flicked his wand and Harry no longer wore his shirt and waistcoat. He let out a gasp as the slight coolness of the air enveloped his torso.

"I think…" Draco nipped along his shoulder, rutting against him as he continued to rub him off through his trousers. Harry could no longer resist. He pushed back desperately against Draco, feeling the Slytherin's own growing erection firm up against his ass, and sighed. "…that Slytherin you so desperately want…" Draco raked both hands over Harry's chest, eliciting a violent hiss. "…goes by the name of the dragon…" He fisted Harry's hair once again, jerking his head back fiercely this time. "Draco!" He drew out his name as he whispered it, removing Harry's blindfold. Draco carefully placed Harry's glasses back on his nose. Harry blinked again, several times, adjusting to light and sight. He pouted as Draco moved away from him, and rocked his hips backwards.

"Turn around, Potter."

Harry turned to discover Draco leaned against the barstool, one foot propped on the rung, and his hard cock in hand. He stroked himself slowly, gazing at Harry beneath half-closed eyelids. Harry bit his lip.

"Does it turn you on, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Yes!" he gasped. His hand went to his own crotch.

"Show me! Show me how much you want it, Potter!" Draco commanded. He licked his lips as he watched Harry struggle with the idea for just a moment.

Harry pushed away from the table, bending his knees.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "You don't get to kneel for me, Potter! Fuck, man!" He couldn't believe what Harry was about to do. As amazed and turned on as he was himself from the experience, he wasn't ready to look down at the Gryffindor in such a position. "I want to watch you get off while you think of me, look at me, want me. Show me!"

Harry hastily freed his cock from his trousers, sighing with relief as he took himself in hand, leaning against the billiard table, and began to stroke himself.

"Show me how you wanked while you lay thinking of me, hidden behind your bed curtains in the Gryffindor dormitory."

Harry began to stroke faster, his free hand gripping the edge of the rail so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Is it everything you imagined it would be?" Draco teased in a breathy voice, still stroking himself slowly. "The reality is soo much better than the fantasy, isn't it?"

Harry muttered a lubrication charm and his hand slid hot and slick over his cock. He grunted with the effort to hold off his climax.

"Did you ever wonder if I was thinking of you, Potter?" Draco's voice was husky and he continued to stare at Harry, as he rocked his hips into his hand.

"Oh!" Harry cried. How could Draco hold out? Harry was dying. He had to give in.

"Did you want to touch me? Did you imagine me touching you like this, Potter?" Draco cast a nonverbal lubrication spell and began to stroke himself earnestly now. He'd learned a while ago how to maintain his arousal, but Harry was making him lose his resolve. He knew the dark-haired wizard didn't want to be the first to cum. He bit his lip as he watched Harry's hand desperately gripping his own rigid dick.

"Fuck! Draco!" Harry gasped. He couldn't take it any longer. His cock pulsed in his hand, and he felt lightheaded.

"Did you imagine me on my knees for you?" Draco's voice came out choked. He was almost there.

Harry let out a long, guttural moan as he climaxed, spilling over his fingers. His knees went slack, and he clutched the edge of the billiard table to keep from slumping to the floor. He turned and leaned heavily over the rail, panting for breath as he listened to Draco orgasm a few seconds later.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Well done, Potter!"

"That wasn't quite what I'd imagined," Harry said, later. They had cleaned themselves up and were in the kitchen. Harry perched on a stool at the island, tracing a finger over the veins in the marble countertop. Draco poured coffee from a French press into two cups.

"You thought I would cast an Incarcerous spell, forcing you to your knees, and beat you into submission?" Draco smirked. Harry had put his shirt back on, but left it unbuttoned, revealing a torso well-toned from chasing down criminals and playing Ministry League Quidditch. Draco forced himself to look at the other's face as he spoke. "While a few years back, such a thing would certainly have been my first impulse—and seeing you bound and begging would definitely be a treat—you're new to this, so I thought it best to choose a bit more vanilla approach. What we do is about pleasure, Harry. At times, it is by pain that one arrives at pleasure. Sometimes, it is the mere idea of control—or lack thereof—which is a major turn on."

"Clearly," Harry replied, sipping his coffee as he turned over their encounter in his mind. "Wait—you thought of having me before?"

Draco set his cup down without taking his eyes off of Harry. He was about to speak when they heard a noise. Harry was on his feet and spun around, wand out, only to discover a white ball of fur scampering into the room. He lowered his wand in amused shock as Draco laughed.

"A ferret?" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "You own a ferret?"

Draco scooped up the animal and it climbed up to perch on his shoulder. It was then that Harry noticed that the ferret was not entirely white, but had an almost perfectly round black spot over its left eye. Draco flicked his wand to the cabinets and a silver dish filled with what looked like cat food soared over to the counter.

"He was given to me as a gift—sort of a joke—but I like the little bugger." He grabbed a small handful of the kibble and held it up for the ferret to eat. "Harry, meet Moody."

"Moody!" Harry laughed, slapping the countertop. "Oh, that's rich!" he hooted. "Pleased to meet you, Mad Eye!" The ferret looked up at Harry curiously and bobbed his head before returning its attention to Draco's now empty hand.

"Alright then, off you go!" he set the food dish on the floor in the corner and lifted the animal from his shoulder. Harry continued to snicker as he watched.

"I see Moody's just as spoiled as big brother," he grinned, eyeing the ornately engraved porringer.

"Perhaps a black-haired ferret with a unique marking on his forehead would make a nice friend." Draco, gave him a wicked sneer, his fingers dancing over the hawthorn wand lying on the counter.

"I am sure that you have been informed," Harry did his best imitation of Minerva McGonagall's brogue. "We do not use transfiguration as a means of punishment!"

Draco tried his best to scowl, but the falsetto inflection of Harry's voice and his infectious grin had Draco laughing along with him. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed two a.m. Harry sobered a bit.

"I should probably get going," he said. Draco's face fell and Harry looked away. Was the Slytherin really saddened at the thought? It was just a one-off wasn't it? He'd only been curious about this scene in which Draco was involved, and having had his hidden desires laid bare was rather overwhelming for Harry. He needed time to think about that. On the other hand, now that he'd had the experience, Harry had more questions. He just didn't know how to ask them without embarrassing himself.

"Plans with Finnegan and Thomas today?" Draco asked as they headed back to the lounge where Harry had left his jacket and waistcoat.

"No, they left earlier today, erm—yesterday."

"Erm, when do you plan to return home—to England, I mean?" Draco asked. He leaned casually on the long rail of the billiard table, watching as Harry buttoned his shirt and pulled up his suspenders. Harry shrugged.

"I suppose I don't have any definite plans. I'm not expected at work, and for the first time in months, I don't even have any public appearances scheduled, thankfully." He chuckled lightly. "Seamus said I needed a proper holiday, and investigating lost artwork didn't qualify."

"You've never been on holiday?" Draco looked aghast.

"When would I have ever had the opportunity?" Harry replied. "The Dursleys never took me anywhere when I wasn't at school or fighting for my life, and I've spent the last year-and-a-half as poster boy for the Ministry of Magic when I wasn't working." He summoned his waistcoat and shrugged it on, looking around for his tie. Draco held it up, and Harry took it with a small, grateful smile. He draped it over his neck. "I erm—thank you for dinner, Draco."

"Perhaps we might do this again someday," said Draco, his smile slightly wistful.

"I might like that. Good night." Harry disapparated.

Harry sighed as he landed in the middle of the suite. He'd just had a date with Draco Malfoy. Was it a date? Draco had definitely asked him out, but afterwards… Was that only to see how far he could push Harry? Had that been his intent all along? No. He had said he'd like to get together again. But then again…

"I wanted to see if you would accept the offer…I like a challenge… Show me how much you want it, Potter!"

Shit! Malfoy had just gotten him to admit that he'd thought of him, that he'd wanted the Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had watched as he made the five fingered widow.

"I want to watch you get off while you think of me, look at me, want me. Show me!"

That was the favor! Draco Malfoy won the pleasure of turning out The Chosen One, and what was to stop him from telling the world?

Draco unbuttoned his shirt as he entered the darkened bedroom. He sighed and flicked his wand at a large cabinet that faced the king-sized bed. A lock clicked and the doors swung open.

"Come out," he said. Adrestia awkwardly crawled toward him, hands bound behind her. When she drew within his reach, he hooked a finger under her collar and tugged until she stood. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded, unable to speak due to the large ball-gag pressing her tongue down. He ran a fingertip through the drool that had dripped down her chest between her ample tits, and smeared it around one of her nipples, giving it a pinch. She moaned, leaning towards him.

If you wanted to fuck him, why didn't you?

"I hate when you do that," he complained, giving her ass a slap. "I gag you for a fucking reason.

Then don't have conversations with me while you've got me gagged.

Draco grabbed her by the throat and squeezed it firmly. She wriggled, but he slid his hand up from her ass, holding her firmly around the waist. "I wasn't. There's no need to be cheeky, my love. Whoever thought a legilimens would make a good sub? Perhaps a night in the pit would improve your behavior," he gave her a malevolent glare. Her eyes grew wide.

I'm sorry, Sir!

"That's better." Draco removed her gag and pressed his lips to hers.

"Why don't you go to him? He might be having regrets right now. He's probably afraid that you used him to embarrass him. If you want him to accept your sincerity, you're going to have to fix that," she said. Draco sighed.

"I had planned to spend the rest of the night rogering you senseless." He palmed her breasts as he kissed over her shoulder.

"Your head won't be in it, because you'll be thinking of him. Besides, think how wet and tense-tight I'll be, lying here, waiting for you to return. Wondering if you'll do to me what you do to him. Waiting for you and imagining myself what his orgasm expression looks like, anticipating your arrival, all fucked-out and hoping he hasn't made you too tired to 'roger me senseless' next." Her voice was low and seductive as she leaned into his attentions.

"Have I told you lately how amazing you are?" Draco asked.

"Every day, my love."

He released her hands from behind her back, and patted the bed. "On the bed, love." She rolled her shoulders and did as she was told, crawling up onto the bed. "Stay here on your back. You may not touch yourself. If I'm not back in the morning, go ahead and take care of that little bit of business we need to clear up, yes?"

"Yes, renmen m'."

"Good girl." He leaned down to kiss her.

Harry examined the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey, thinking it wasn't nearly enough for him to get as arseholed as he'd hoped to become, and the mini bar was certainly not going to do the trick. He was certain that the shop in the wizarding district was now closed. "Fuck all!" he swore, and set the firewhiskey back on the counter. "Geminio!" An identical bottle appeared next to the first.

There was a knock at the door. Harry grabbed the bottles, setting one on the coffee table, and went to the door with the other in hand, wondering who could possibly be knocking at this hour. He was not in the mood to redirect some posh git with the wrong room number looking for his mistress. He snatched it open irritably. Draco stood there with an unreadable expression on his face. His hair was no longer held back by the leather band and his shirt was improperly buttoned, still untucked from their earlier encounter. Harry thought he looked uncharacteristically disheveled, particularly given that he was the type never to allow himself to be seen in such a state, especially while standing in one of the city's finest hotels.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Draco looked down at the bottle of Ogden's Old in Harry's hand. Adrestia had been right. He was upset about what happened. He stepped past Harry and into the suite.

"Have you already drunk that much?"

"I don't recall inviting you in, Malfoy," Harry remained by the open door.

"No, you didn't," Draco flicked his wand and the door swung closed, locking itself. "I see we're back to Malfoy. Is that because you think I only wanted you for a notch on my broomstick?"

"Wasn't it? The dinner date was just a ruse to get me back to your place and ask leading questions until you had me where you wanted me, right? Now you can expose 'Saint Potter'—isn't that what you like to call me—as a kinky perv with a crush on his arch rival, is that it?"

"Why would I do that?" Draco asked with a calm that only made Harry more frustrated. He walked right up to the blond, eyes full of fury.

"Because, that's what was in it for you, right? You provide a service no one else could take care of, and I owe you a favor. You wanted to see if I would accept the offer. You like a challenge, right?"

"Harry, you asked me what it was like. I asked you if you were certain, and you said 'yes' more than once. I gave you what you wanted."

"Doesn't hurt that you got the benefit of seeing me utterly debauched though, does it?" Harry pointed his finger at Draco, poking him in the chest.

"You're right. It doesn't hurt. It was a fucking turn on. I finally got one of my most secret fantasies fulfilled," Draco replied.

"I should have known better!" Harry continued to rant, heedless of what Draco was saying. He unstoppered the bottle of firewhiskey, gesturing with it as he spoke. "You are so predictable, Malfoy!"

"Put the bottle down, Harry."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Harry lifted the bottle to his lips, but it disappeared from his hand before the first drop could touch his tongue. He glared at Draco. "What the hell?"

"You're not listening to me." His tone was still infuriatingly calm, and Harry made to give him a shove.

"I don't have to listen—" Harry gave a startled yelp as Draco grabbed his arm, spinning him around and shoving him down on the sofa, pinning it behind him. He sat on Harry's legs and pulled his other arm back, holding his wrists together and snatching the tie that still hung loosely from Harry's neck. He quickly bound his wrists and held Harry's shoulders down as he struggled beneath him.

"Now then," Draco leaned over Harry, one hand gripping his hip firmly. "Are you going to shut your fucking mouth, or do I have to shut it for you? You'd look quite a sight with a Langlock jinx right now," he leaned down and snarled in his ear, jerking his hip down against the Gryffindor's for emphasis.

"You wouldn't!" Harry bucked against Draco, who pushed back even harder

"What exactly do you think I do with recalcitrant submissives, Potter? And that bucking doesn't piss me off, it just gets me hard!" Draco rolled his hips against Harry's ass again.

The friction of the sofa cushion against his groin, stirred something in Harry and he pressed his lips together, biting back the whimper that threatened to spill from his throat. Frustrated, he stopped struggling.

"That's better," Draco said, nipping Harry's ear. "Now then, I recognize that Gryffindor passion tends to get in the way of listening and common sense, so I'll repeat myself…this time." Draco fisted Harry's hair, pulling his head back as he continued to press his hips against Harry's. When he spoke, his voice was filled with the huskiness of his mounting arousal. "I absolutely enjoyed seeing you utterly debauched. You have no idea how I have fantasized about that gorgeous cock of yours. All those fights I picked with you in school—I'd hoped that you'd hit me, just so you would touch me. I would never tell anyone what we did. Do you know why?"

Harry was hard now, and Draco's rutting against him was agonizing. He could hear the rush of his pulse in his ears and his breathing was ragged.

"Why?" he groaned, and much as he didn't want to, Harry pushed back against Draco.

"Because…" Draco kissed up his neck and sucked on the bottom of his jaw beneath his ear, eliciting a shuddering moan. "No one else can possibly appreciate just how fucking hot you are! If I could, I'd lock you away, and never let anyone have you!" Draco released Harry's hair and moved away from him, pulling him up into a sitting position.

Harry slouched to take the pressure off his wrists, his erection straining against his pants, and looked up at Draco. His face had that hungry look again that Harry had seen at his house earlier that evening when they rubbed one off together. He sincerely hoped that meant that Draco wouldn't leave him there bound and wanting, but his worry was abated almost immediately, when Draco climbed into his lap, straddling his hips.

He rolled his hips and groaned at the friction and feel of Harry's erection pressing through layers of trousers against his own. "Oh, fuck, Potter! I want to mark you!" Draco unbuttoned his shirt. "I want to mark you, and make you know you are mine!" He pulled off the expensive Egyptian cotton and dropped it to the floor.

Harry's mouth dropped open as his gaze fell upon the white lines that marred Draco's pale flesh and the piercings in each blush nipple. He tugged against the tie wrapped tightly around his wrists.

"Draco, I—" Before he could complete the thought, Draco had grabbed the back of his neck, pressing their lips together, tongue plunging hungrily in Harry's mouth.

"Don't!" he hissed when they broke apart for air. "You have no idea the thrill that shot through me when I saw you about to kneel for me—for me!" Draco stared down at Harry, whose head was back against the sofa, eyes half closed, moaning as he lifted his hips to meet Draco's. "I couldn't let you do that." He pushed against Harry's chest and stood. Harry let out a frustrated whimper. "Because you were only curious, you aren't sure."

Harry looked up at Draco, who stared down at him with an assessing gaze. Again, he wondered if the Slytherin would leave him bound and debauched as some form of punishment and humiliation. Draco pointed his wand at Harry.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, struggling against his bonds now, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

"I wouldn't do this for just anybody, you know." Draco flicked his wand and Harry's trousers and pants were gone, his cock standing at full mast.

"Malfoy! You fucking shit! Accio—" He didn't finish the incantation before Draco dropped to his knees and took Harry's erection into his hand, stroking it slowly.

"It's Draco." He flicked his tongue at the head of Harry's cock. "Say it!" Draco licked the underside of his rod, from Harry's balls up to the head, slowly, slowly. Harry shuddered and groaned. "Say it!" He licked and kissed the length of Harry's shaft. "If you want it, you have to say it. Say my name!" Draco ran his impeccably manicured nails over the sensitive flesh of Harry's inner thigh and cupped his balls in his hand, humming into them.

"Ohhh, fuuck! Fuck! Fuck! Draco!" Harry cried.

"Well done, Potter!" Draco kissed Harry's balls. He licked his lips, looking up at Harry as he took him into his mouth.

"Shit! Draco! Fuck!" Harry exclaimed, thrusting upward as Draco's lips slid down his shaft. He pulled against his bonds. Draco moaned around him, and Harry became completely unwound. "Fucking Godric!" he cried. "Relashio!"

"Hm!" Startled, Draco began to pull back, but Harry grabbed a fistful of blond hair and shoved his head down onto his cock, thrusting into his throat. Draco let out a muffled grunt.

"Oh, my gods!" Harry declared. "Draco! Draco! Draco!"

Draco allowed Harry to guide him and he reached down to free his own aching cock, gripping tightly as he stroked. He moaned again, looking up at Harry as the dark-haired wizard fucked his mouth. Then the Gryffindor was pulsing against his tongue, pushing his head down. Draco spasmed and jerked as his airway was cut off, then he felt hot spunk down his throat as he shattered with orgasm at the same moment.

Harry released his hair and Draco slumped backward, leaning against the coffee table. He looked up at Harry, who was staring up at the ceiling.

"What just happened?"

"I answered your question." Draco wiped his hand on the carpet, careless of the fact that such behavior was considered indecorous.

"What question?" Harry raised his head.

"Earlier, before Moody interrupted our conversation, you asked if I had thought of having you before."

"Oh." Harry's mind was racing again, full of questions, but he was unable to form any of them to speak coherently.

"Malfoy, I—"

"It's Draco." He pushed himself up and perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaning towards Harry. "You have choices, Harry—dominant, submissive, switch—maybe just vanilla. Straight, gay, bi—anything else. Take some time to figure what you want." Draco stood and began to put his appearance back to rights. "I know there's a lot on your mind. Don't let it vex you." He gave Harry a wink and leaned down to brush his lips over the other's. "Enjoy your first ever holiday." He smiled, the likes of which Harry had never seen on the Slytherin's face, and disapparated.