CHAPTER 11

Harry slipped through the kitchen door and shut it behind him, turning to see Draco standing by the counter, his left foot up in the stand of a bar stool.

"I thought you said we should wait till after the party." Harry protested as Draco put one finger in his mouth and sucked it, moaning.

"We have twenty minutes, Potter and I need to be satisfied." Draco purred, biting his bottom lip as he gazed lustfully at Harry's body. "I've got talents that can be demonstrated in the kitchen—just not the traditional kind," Draco continued, beckoning Harry closer and edging his hand up Harry's inner thigh, stopping just short of his crotch.

"Care to show me?" Harry enquired breathlessly.

"Yes, Harry," Draco said, he stepped away and went over to the large pantry, in a moment he was back with a packet of flavoured beverage syrup. "I think these are meant for coffee…but maybe we could find some other use for them."

"What kind of use do you have in mind?"

"Definitely not what the Honeydukes producer intended." Draco grabbed the packet and tore it open with his teeth, then placed each bottle on the counter next to Harry.

"French vanilla, mint chocolate, hazelnut and raspberry. Which one do you want to try first."

"Honestly, I don't want any coffee." Harry said, not quite understanding Draco's erotic undertone.

"I don't mean in coffee. I mean, try on me."

"Try on you?"

"On me," Draco unbuttoned his shirt quickly, getting down to business before Harry could do anything else sweet and disarming.

Underneath he wore a purple-and-black lace bra that he absolutely was not going to taint with flavoured syrup. He reached behind his back and unfastened the clasp, then let the bra fall to the floor.

Harry's gaze was fixed on Draco's smooth, muscular chest now. "I'm sure you taste fine without syrup," he said, sounding distracted.

"I do, but that's beside the point." Draco unzipped his jeans and slid them down his hips, taking his time, wriggling around enough to put on a proper strip show. He pulled the jeans out of his boots and threw them to the floor.

Now there were just his boots and his underwear, which had matched the bra but which were also pointless in the face of flavoured syrups. He hooked his thumbs on each side and slowly tugged them off an inch at a time. The boots could stay. They might not have been practical, but they were great for effect.

Harry's gaze had dropped lower, was pinned now on the huge erection Draco had been sporting. "You've got an amazing body," he said.

"Thanks," Draco murmured, going for the bottle of raspberry syrup.

Draco unscrewed the top and climbed up on the counter, then straddled Harry, who was sitting on the bar stool. Draco leaned forward enough that his nipples were in range of Harry's tongue and he tilted the syrup bottle over them and let the liquid drip onto one nipple, then the other.

A whoosh of breath expelled from Harry's chest. "Fucking hell…"

"You don't like raspberry?"

"I love it," Harry whispered, then took one of Draco's nipples into his mouth and began to suck.

Warm fuzzies spread from Draco's chest to his cock, as Harry's hands travelled up his inner thighs. His touch, so appreciative and undemanding, left Draco feeling like a sex god.

Harry licked the syrup from his chest, then moved his kiss to Draco's mouth, standing up from the bar stool and sending it crashing to the floor behind him. He tasted like hot, sweet raspberries, and Draco, moaned as Harry pulled them together and pressed his own erection hard into Draco's, rocking his hips lightly and stimulating them where it counted.

"You have lube, Draco?" Harry asked between kisses and moans.

"Use the syrup…" he said and Harry groaned at the sheer erotic obscenity of the idea. His glasses were all steamed up and Draco reached for them. "Can you see without these?" He said as he removed them.

"Everything's a little blurry."

Good, then he wouldn't notice the tiny flaws all over Draco's body that made him ashamed. Draco set the glasses aside and started unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

When the shirt was got, he opened the fly of Harry's pants and pushed aside his briefs—green satin— to find his hard cock waiting.

Draco stroked Harry's length and Harry lost it. He growled ferociously and lifted Draco by his hips, turning the blonde around and letting him steady himself against the counter at Harry reached for the syrup bottle. Draco stood, waiting, with his legs spread wide and his hands clamping the counter in aroused agitation.

Harry began to gently rub the syrup onto Draco and when he slipped in his index finger, Draco bit his lip to keep from screaming in delight. Then Harry added a second finger and he quickened his movements, scissoring and finger-fucking Draco to a point of near release.

When Draco was stretched enough Harry eased himself into Draco one delicious inch at a time. Slowly at first, they found their rhythm, locked together, taking their time tasting and kissing.

And all that unexpected tenderness made their love even hotter, so that when Harry was finally moving frantically inside Draco with their destination in sight, he was right there with him, overcome with too many emotions to name.

Harry reached around Draco and roughly pumped the blonde's quivering cock. Draco cried out again and again as Harry found his mark, when Harry finally came, Draco turned around and silenced Harry's cries with a long, soft kiss that ended in Draco's own orgasm.

"You're incredible," Harry whispered.

"So are you," Draco said, panting and sweaty. The blonde lowered them to the cold tiled floor and they gripped each other, kissing and touching gently for some minutes. Then Draco reached into his boot and pulled out a small gift, wrapped in pale green tissue paper.

"Happy birthday, Potter." Draco said giving the box to Harry, Harry unwrapped it, to find a small velvet jewellery box and when he opened it, inside was a simple silver band, with engraving around the inside. Harry read it twice to make sure he was not dreaming.

Marry me, Harry Potter.

There was a moment of silence and then the agonised howls and screams tore the silence apart and flames burst through the door of the kitchen. It was hell-fire to say the least and the cries of pain and fury could mean only two things to Draco. Either the house had somehow spontaneously combusted and immortals were somehow dying. Or Narcissa was home.