Disclaimer: You know the drill. JK made them..

Draco woke early, as always. He had never been one to sleep the day away, not when there were

far more productive ways he could be spending his time. Especially this year; yes, this year

held a special kind of promise. His father had taught him that knowledge was power - Malfoy

smirked at the thought. What Lucius Malfoy would say, if he knew how right he was... and in

what way.

Reaching into the drawer beside his bed, Draco withdrew a perfect rectangle of crisp,

unblemished parchment, and a long feather quill.

Ten O'Clock. Room of Requirement.

There was no call for anything further - without signing it, he rolled the note into a thin

scroll, attaching it to the leg of his owl with efficient, practices movements and waved a

hand at the creature, dismissing it. He trusted the bird would know where to go; Draco almost

respected the creatures' intuition. Almost. A smirk slid across his face as he pictured

Harry's reaction to the note, and as usual, his ability to predict Potter's flustered worry

was right on par - he spotted the Gyffindor instantly upon entrance to the great hall. The

other boy was, predictably, staring at Draco like a deer caught in oncoming headlights;

frightened, and transfixed. Trying not to look too smug, Draco sat, helping himself to bread

and honey. A flash of inspiration struck him, and he took the pot, slipping it into the

pocket of his robes, carefully upright so the sticky substance wouldn't spill.

The day seemed to drag on for an age, but eventually, the evening came. He had been careful

not to give Potter any indication of what was coming; had barely even thrown the boy a glance

the whole day. The prickling sensation he'd felt more than once on the back of his neck let

him know that his nonchalonce was having exactly the intended effect, and a knot of

anticipation had wound itself tight in his belly. After five years, he had the boy where he

wanted him. Finally.

He arrived early, to ensure that things were in order. Of course, the room was even more

intuitive than his owl - no sooner than he'd stepped inside it had laid out his fantasy

before him. A regal, four-poster bed stood in the centre of the spacious room, bedecked in

deep green inlaid with subtle silver. A large wooden chest stood at its base - Draco didn't

need to open it to know it held everything he might want to make use of tonight. Across from

the bed, suspended from the opposite wall, a pair of silver manacles hung open, glimmering in

the dim light created by several softly burning torches mounted on the stone. The wooden

floor was bare, though, Draco noted as he slipped off his shoes, it was not cold to the

touch; rather comfortably warm against his skin. Not that it mattered. Things would be

heating up in here soon, anyway.

A hesitant knock at the door told him his prey had arrived; he'd known Potter wouldn't keep

him waiting. The boy seemed almost eager for this, though he would never admit it - not

unless Draco had a firm hold on his cock, at any rate. He turned, that signature smirk in

place, drinking in the wide-eyed shock shining from those emerald eyes as Harry took in his

surroundings.

"The.. I got your note..." he managed, his voice small. Where was the bravado now, from the

boy who'd fought the Dark Lord on multiple occasions, and lived! A thrill of satisfaction

went through the Slytherin again as he realised he was about to conquor what even HE could

not.

"Obviously." The blonde raised an eyebrow, the cool facade firmly in place.
"Do I really need to tell you what to do now?"

Swallowing, Harry shook his head, and reached for his robes, pulling them over his head and

looking around uncertainly, as though unsure where to put the bundle he now held in his

hands.

"The floor will do. And the rest."

Potter paused, as though he might object. Draco wondered whether the Golden Boy thought he

might force him to strip and leave him again, but Potter wouldn't get off so easy this time.

He made to speak again, but before he was forced to repeat his command, something like

resignation flickered into the other boys eyes, and his robes fell with a soft thud to the

floor as he started on the rest of his clothing. While he was distracted with his task,

Draco's eyes were left free to wander over the Gryffindors' body, fit and muscled from his

years of Quidditch and world-changing battles. When his cock was let free, Draco felt his own

stir, though he showed no more reaction than the twitch of an eyebrow.

"Good. Now, on your knees."

Harry looked a little shocked, but complied, his wide, innocent eyes on Draco's face,

uncertain.

"Hands on your knees. Spread your legs, a little wider. Wider. Don't look at the floor, look

at me."

Draco's voice had taken on a commanding tone as he moved toward his nemesis, Harry's eyes

widening with each step he took closer.

"Stay still, now, Potter."

Slowly, Draco began to remove his robes.

-

Harry gulped, his breath a hard lump in his throat. If Ron and Hermione could see him now...

he flushed at the thought. He was naked, on his knees, legs spread before his second-greatest

enemy. The wooden floor was warm against his skin, that was some small mercy, at least. Oh

Merlin, Malfoy was coming closer, he couldn't look...

"What did I say? Eyes on me, Potter."

Harry forced his gaze upwards to find himself staring almost directly at the bulge in Draco's

robes. The Slytherin was only inches from him, and... Oh, Merlin... he was sliding out of his

clothes, piece by piece. His robes he placed carefully on the floor beside Harry's, and now

he was peeling off the thin singlet he wore beneath, revealing that perfect, smooth chest.

Oh, Harry ached to reach up, to slide his fingers down the other boys taught stomach...

"I can tell what you're thinking, Potter."

Harry flushed again, wanting to stare down. He forced himself to look upward, past the boys

chest to his silver eyes, which were fixed knowingly on Harry's own.

"You may not touch me. Only my trousers. Take them off."

Harry gulped again, "You can't be..."

"Do I sound like I'm joking, Potter? Or do you need to be punished again? Take them off.

Now."

With trembling fingers, Harry reached for the waistband of Malfoys thin trousers, sliding

them down over those angular hips, down...

"Oh, Merlin," Harry spoke aloud this time. Draco had neglected to wear pants today, it

seemed, and Harry was faced directly with Malfoy's impressive length. He couldn't help the

tiny thrill he felt at the fact that it was semi-erect, which was less than he could say for

himself. The proximity to Malfoy's naked body had had an undeniable effect on the boy who

lived, and his own cock was standing fully at attention, throbbing slightly as he stared up

at his long-time fantasy.

"Mmm, it is nice, isn't it. If I do say so myself," Malfoy leered, reaching down to lazily

stroke himself, his fingers bringing the tip of his cock barely millimetres from Harry's

nose. His prick hardened further at his own touch, growing, and Harry's lips parted, saliva

pooling in his mouth. Merlin, he wanted to taste the boy...

"In my robes, in the pocket." Harry paused, wondering what horror Malfoy had in store for

him, his eyes widening again as he withdrew the pot of honey.

"Give it to me."

He handed it over, goosebumps breaking out along his spine as their fingers brushed. hen

Malfoy tilted the small pot, and the golden substance inside began to drip onto his no

fully-erect prick Harry's mouth dropped open. He was going to ask him to...

But there was no asking. In one, fluid motion Draco threw the empty pot aside, where it

shattered on the stone wall, and tangled his fingers through Harry's dark hair, pushing

Harry's open mouth forcibly around his sweet, sticky cock. Harry gagged as Malfoy's tip

battered his tonsils, the thick honey dripping into his throat as the boy thrusted against

his face. He spluttered, swallowed, and took it, closing his lips around the boys shaft, his

tongue sliding along its' underside, scooping up the sweet coating and letting him taste

Malfoy beneath. Unconsciously, he lifted his hands, gripping Draco's hips and yanking him

forwards in the rythm Malfoy had created, hungrily trying to open his mouth wider, let the

other boy in deeper... as Malfoy let out a long, unwilling moan Harry's own cock throbbed

harder, yearning for release. He made to reach down, but before his hand had moved an inch

Malfoy's free one was on it, and the boy was smirking, shaking his head.

"Oh no, Potter. Only one of us is going to cum tonight."

And he WAS going to, Harry could feel it. Even in his inexperience with other men, he knew

enough about himself to recognise the pulse that ran through Draco's cock, once, twice;

Malfoy's free hand joined the other on the back of Harry's head, holding him steady as he

exploded. The hot liquid hit the back of Harry's throat in a way he could only describe as

magic, and he swallowed the urge to gag, along with Draco's thick seed.

Panting, Malfoy pushed the Boy Who Lived off him, for once having lost some of his perfect

composure.

"G... good, Potter. Good boy. Now back to your room."

"Malfoy.. I," Harry paused, unsure what to say. Surely that had meant... something? Draco had

liked it just as much as he had, he had felt it, he knew it! Surely this changed things...

But when the Slytherin met his gaze again, his eyes were cold.

"I said back to your room, Potter. I have nothing to say to you, nor you to me. Leave."

His cock painfully hard, Harry grabbed his clothes, hurrying to dress before the tears that

prickled his eyelids, threatening, made their way out.

As he reached the door, he turned again to cast a longing look at the Slytherin boy, but

Draco had his back to him, pulling on his own clothes. Nothing more would be said tonight.

Maybe it really didn't mean anything to him at all, Harry thought sadly as he climbed into

bed, reaching below his blankets to try to relieve the painful erection that was the only

physical evidence of what had transpired that evening. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine

it was Draco's fingers wrapped tight around him... but though he eventually found release, he

could not even imagine what it would feel like for a touch from Malfoy to be tender, loving.

All he could feel was that cold, hard grip as Malfoy forced him to admit how he felt...