ooOoo
Lesson Twelve
ooOoo
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Potter growled, his voice carrying over the silent hall. Rita Skeeter pouted falsely.
"Didn't you miss me, Harry? We've all been so worried about your whereabouts," she simpered, her Quick-Quotes Quill scratching eagerly onto her notepad. One of the other reporters raised their camera, taking a picture with a blinding burst of light. And as though the first domino had been toppled, the group of journalists were in a frenzy, taking pictures and asking loud questions.
Draco and Theo shared another glance before turning back the chaos unfolding in front of them and the thunderous look on Potter's face. Draco watched with a sense of foreboding as Potter pulled his rarely-used wand out of his pocket, flicking it in the direction of the press.
There was a soft buzzing, and then everything was silent. Rita Skeeter was frozen, her mouth pulled into a leering smile, the other witches and wizards stuck in a similarly immobile state around her.
Draco raised his eyebrows, knowing that casting a spell over a group simultaneously required a lot of power. I guess that's why he used his wand, he thought absently as he stared at the Boy Wonder, who was glaring at the life-like statues across the hall.
"Mister Potter?" That calm, powerful voice echoed through the hall as Headmistress McGonagall stepped around the reporters, her eyebrows raised questioningly as she gazed at Potter, who look mildly sheepish. "Would you care to explain what is happening here?"
"Uh…"
"Skeeter barged in here, Headmistress. Potter was just trying to make 'em shut up for a moment," Flint said unexpectedly, drawing everyone's attention to his neutral expression. Wood nodded at his right.
"Exactly, Headmistress," Granger added, Weasley agreeing fervently.
McGonagall's expression remained unimpressed, but Draco could swear he saw her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I see." She turned her stare onto the unmoving Skeeter. "I see no harm in letting our guests remain stationary for a few hours as we deal with our new crisis." She pulled out her wand, levitating the frozen group and moving them to one of the empty corners of the Great Hall.
"Well, let's return to dinner, shall we?" McGonagall suggested with a mild smile, and soft snickers could be heard amongst the quiet chatter that bloomed in the room.
"Well, that was interesting," Pansy said she returned to her meal, daintily taking a bite of her bread. Blaise shrugged as he too turned away from the excitement.
Draco's eyes watched Potter, who was stowing his wand away in his trousers, those green eyes focused on Granger, who was gesturing to some tome sitting in front of her. His stomach jolted when he remembered the meeting McGonagall had called for after dinner, to discuss ways to stop the Fiendfyre.
His mind raced with the idea that had filled his mind before Skeeter had barged in. Shrinking the Room. That shouldn't be too difficult, right? Draco frowned. The Room of Requirement was an extremely complex piece of magic, though - one with the rare quality of being oddly sentient. It's also especially intricate now that it's connected to Hogwarts' magical core, Draco thought worriedly.
He stood, needing some quiet in order to focus. "I'm not that hungry anymore," he mumbled to Theo, who nodded. Draco's could feel his friend's concerned gaze on his back as he stepped through the entrance, relishing in the cool breeze that wafted in through the front doors, still open from Skeeter's dramatic entrance.
The quiet darkness called to him, and he slipped through the entryway.
The night air held the chill from the recent rain, and soft, watery moonlight spotted the dark grounds as he walked with no clear direction in mind. The empty husk of Hagrid's hut was a dark smudge against the purple and blue haziness of the grounds. Draco couldn't help but remember the night it had first burned, how he'd stumbled through the battle, following the dark outline of Severus' figure through the death and fear. And how life had only gotten worse from there.
That'd been the night he'd realized he was on the wrong side of the war, how stupid and unprepared he had been to take on his parents' battle.
That'd been the night he'd truly stopped hating Harry Potter.
"Malfoy?" Draco blinked, recognizing his surroundings at the edge of the lake. Roger Davies stared up at him from his seat on the shore, his wand tip lit as he read some book. Ravenclaws, honestly.
"Davies? What are you doing?" Davies shrugged, marking his page before shutting the volume. The older man's eyes shone in the artificial light from his wand.
"Doing some research on Fiendfyre, of course. What's the reason for your stroll of the grounds?"
Draco's mouth quirked sharply. "I was thinking about the Fiendfyre as well."
"Care to share your thoughts?" Davies gestured the empty, grassy ground next to him. Draco hesitated for a moment before nodding to himself, gracefully folding his legs underneath him. I'll have to share my ideas at some point, if I don't want the castle to collapse. The lake glimmered with agreement in the moonlight.
"Well, I was thinking - Fiendfyre is still fire, is it not?" Davies raised an eyebrow at the rhetorical question. "So, whether cursed or not, fire still needs air in order to burn. So we would just need to shrink the Room of Requirement gradually until-"
"-the Fiendfyre runs out of air," Davies finished excitedly. "Not a bad thought, Malfoy." The Ravenclaw broke off, humming absently to himself as his finger tapped against the tome in his lap. "But how could you shrink it? The Room of Requirement is impervious to magic except internally."
Draco frowned. "That was exactly my thought process. It's almost as though someone would have to enter the Room - and the Fiendfyre - to bend the magic to their wishes."
Crickets chirped loudly around them, and owls hoot-ed darkly from the forest.
"That might be the only solution, Malfoy," Davies finally said. Draco stared at him with incredulity.
"Davies, someone will die if they go in there. If not from the flames, from the Room suffocating them to death. No one would sacrifice themselves for this…I'm not even sure if the Room would let someone kill themselves."
"…You're right. The Room wouldn't let the average witch or wizard do it. But you and Potter aren't normal wizards, are you?"
A black sense of forewarning filled Draco at Davies' tone. "What do you mean?"
"Funny thing, magical objects," Davies said simply as he looked out over the water. "Did you that wands are built with a safety, kind-of like a Muggle gun? That's why magical folk can't kill themselves with their own wands – it simply won't work." Draco swallowed, his throat feeling rough. "The Room, from what I read, is similar. It won't comply with the user's wishes if it causes them mortal peril." Davies suddenly stared into Draco's eyes. "But you and Potter have completely bypassed that safety with your wandless abilities. You could easily kill yourself with your raw magic if you wished – and you can push the Room to do your bidding if you connect your core with it." Davies smiled eerily. "Funny, isn't it?"
Draco's heart skipped a beat, a horrible realization ringing through his mind. "So only Potter or I could stop this thing? And we'd have to die while doing it?"
Davies shrugged, standing on long legs as he extinguished the light. "These are just my hypotheses, Malfoy. Who knows? Maybe Granger will think of some genius way to fix the problem without Hogwarts or anyone getting hurt."
BOOM!
Davies and Draco jerked their gazes to stare at the castle, where the lights in the North Tower suddenly went out.
"But I doubt it," Davies mumbled. "This thing needs to be stopped, and fast. 'Night, Draco."
And Draco was alone with his dangerous thoughts.
o
Draco lay on the couch in his rooms, staring at the shadowy vaulted ceilings his lone candle couldn't possibly light. My life…or Potter's.
The fingers of his right hand dug into the Marked skin of his left forearm, causing tiny pricks of pain. Objectively, I know my worth. I'm a failed Death Eater, a piece of scum that didn't even have the guts to kill someone to save my family. And Potter…
He sighed, not noticing when a small trickle of blood slithered down his white skin onto the navy fabric of his shirt.
Knock, knock.
Draco propped himself up on his elbows, glaring at the door to his room with confusion. He could hear his doorknob screaming with its metallic voice, and he rolled his eyes. Figures I'd have one of the weakest security measures in the castle on my door, he thought as he stood, frowning at the crescent-shaped cuts overlapping the dark ink on his arm.
He took a deep breath, staring at the smooth wood of the door. Merlin, just make whoever this is Vanish – I can't deal with anyone right now. But he reached out and pulled the knob.
"Potter?" He breathed in surprise, silencing the doorknob with an unconscious flick of his wrist.
The dark-haired eighteen-year-old looked at him over the rim of his glasses, something curiously hesitant in the way he held himself in the doorway.
Fuck, not you, Draco groaned internally. I can't choose between our lives tonight, Potter.
"…Can I come in?" Potter finally asked as the silence stretched between them.
His heart in his throat, Draco nodded, turning away as Potter followed him into his quarters. Draco took an unsteady seat on his couch, watching Potter's feet as he conjured a chair and sat opposite.
"You weren't at McGonagall's meeting."
Yeah, I was too busy figuring out how to save this bloody school, and maybe kill myself or you in the process.
Draco swallowed, staring at his clenched fists, which wrinkled his black trousers. "Did anyone think of a solution?" A spark of hope flared in his chest.
"…No," Potter admitted quietly. "We're having to evacuate the upper floors – the magic absorption is becoming more widespread." Draco's heart sunk like lead.
"I see," he finally looked up, resisting the urge to wince at the sorrow in Potter's eyes.
Those eyes, filled with the pain of watching his childhood home destroyed.
I can't send this man to his death, he realized surreally.
Something in him settled.
"Potter, do you know of a way into the Room of Requirement?" Potter's brow creased in confusion.
"Why would you –"
"Theoretically."
Potter still looked suspicious, but he blinked in thought. "Well, the Vanishing Cabinets are obviously out of the question, since I can only assume it's been burnt to a crisp in the fire…" Potter's face suddenly cleared. "During the final battle, we got into Hogwarts through the passage Neville had created into the Hog's Head. It might still work."
The Hog's Head, that grungy pub in Hogsmeade? Well, if it'll work, it doesn't matter where the entrance is.
Draco nodded, ignoring the questioning tilt of Potter's head.
"Alright." Draco stood, and Potter unconsciously did the same. "Is that it, Potter?" He asked tiredly, ready to begin the preparations to stop the Fiendfyre…and, thusly, end his life.
Something obscure and tentative flickered across those handsome features. "Not exactly. I, uh…" Potter trailed off, reaching into his pocket before displaying the object clutched therein.
Draco stared at the outstretched palm, his eyes drawn to the dark stick of wood lying on that hand.
"…My wand?" Draco tentatively reached out and delicately touched the relic of his past, barely believing it was still real. He picked it up, holding it as tenderly as a new-born baby. "You had it all this time?" Draco asked softly as he looked up at Potter, fresh, murky feelings welling up in his chest.
Potter grimaced. "Yeah…I figured I should give it back to you now, since I'm sure whatever solution we think up, it'll involve some pretty intense magic. I found that using my wand can help with bigger spells, makes it easier to channel and stuff." He huffed awkwardly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck in an unconscious manner. "And, well, I guess I should've given this to you a long time ago…So," he trailed off lamely.
Everything was quiet.
Potter glanced up from his shoes when Draco didn't say anything for a long while.
Draco took a long look into those eyes.
And then he punched Potter in the nose, his fist colliding with a satisfying CRUNCH!
"Fuck you, Potter!" Draco yelped as he cradled his bruised knuckles. Potter panted in surprise and pain, holding a hand to his face, where blood poured from his broken nose.
"Madfoy! 'ou broke 'y nozde!"
"Yes, I did! For the second time now, and you deserved it both times!" Draco felt adrenaline still running through his body, and though he still felt justified in injuring Potter, he didn't stop the man as he raised a hand to spell his nose un-broken.
"What the fuck, Malfoy? How did I deserve that?" Potter yelled as he smeared the last bit of blood onto the back of his hand, the white scars on the back of the appendage becoming artistically covered in the coppery red.
Draco could feel his mouth twist into an ugly sneer. "This entire debacle started months ago, with you making my life fucking miserable, and then when I finally started thinking that maybe things would be alright, you fucking disappeared, leaving me to deal with all of the shit that you were apparently too cowardly to help me fix!" Draco shouted, feeling blood trickle down his left arm, where his cuts had reopened. "And then you just fucking show up without an explanation – and now you have the fucking gall to give me back my wand – the thing that could've stopped this entire fucking mess from the beginning?"
"Having your wand would not have solved everything!" Potter yelled back, very red in the face. "And stop making it sound like everything is my fault! You were a fucking prat at the beginning as well - and stop shrieking about my leaving – you don't know what was happening! Just shut the fuck up about things you don't understand!"
Draco turned his back to Potter, quietly gasping with anger, embarrassment and something like disappointment. His blood-slicked left hand clenched his newly-possessed wand tightly, his right hand digging fingernails into his palm.
I'm going to fucking die for you, you fucking bastard, yet you dare –
All he could think of was making Potter feel as awful as he was feeling at that moment, so he raised the wand, turning to point it at Potter's scowling, blood-spattered face –
Potter shot out his hand, gripping Draco's thin wrist in a deathly tight grip, forcing the wand to fall to the floor. "Don't think so, Draco," the dark man growled. Draco tried blindly punching with his other arm, but Potter merely grabbed that wrist too, forcefully backing Draco against the couch, pressing him against the cushions with painful strength. "Calm the fuck down!" But Draco wouldn't be soothed, struggling against the harsh holdings of his arms next to his head. "Draco!" Potter yelled.
"Don't call me that!" Draco shouted back, feeling the heat in his face.
"Oh, and why not? Too intimate for you?" Potter hissed, real spite crossing his dangerous features. Draco sneered at him, feeling raw and exposed as the adrenaline slowly began to drain away.
"Get the fuck off me, Potter!" There was a desperate edge to his voice that Draco seemed to hear from a long ways away, his eyes locked in an intense gaze with Potter, those green irises burning into him.
"Or what, Draco?" Potter snarled, his rage seeming to increase as Draco's continued to fade. Flighty energy fluttered in Draco's throat, and he realized he was close enough to Potter to count the individual particles of dust trapped on his lenses. A strange rushing noise filled his ears.
I'm going to die for you.
And then his lips were on Potter's bloody ones.
Potter froze for a moment, and his grip around Draco's wrists tightened painfully – and then he was kissing back.
Draco involuntarily closed his eyes as soft, damp heat pressed against his mouth, a shiver running up his spine when Potter roughly ran his tongue against the seam of Draco's lips. The Slytherin cautiously opened his mouth to the intrusion, wanting so badly to eagerly press into Potter's body, to give into the trance of pleasure that was screaming through his every nerve.
Draco groaned softly into Potter's mouth as the other man's hand moved up the front of his shirt, the cool fingertips searing sensation onto Draco's flushed skin. The two broke contact for the shortest moment, Potter pulling the obstructive clothing over Draco's head, tossing it onto the floor before roughly capturing Draco's lips again. The paler boy fumbled with the buttons on Potter's chest, his mind growing hazy as Potter sucked coyly on his tongue, Potter's hands teasing the waistband of his trousers.
"Fuck," Draco gasped as he tore his mouth from Potter's, turning his attention to the irritatingly intact buttons between his fingers. He could feel Potter's chest rumbling with an airy chuckle, the relaxed heat of Potter's lips pressing gently to his temple. Draco's heart skipped a beat at the unnaturally tender kiss, his hands stopping their trek down Potter's shirtfront.
A hundred warning bells were ringing in Draco's ears, shouting that all of this was too monumental, too huge to be an angry fuck between confused enemies. Draco raised his eyes, those metallic irises searching Potter's jade ones for something, anything that could justify what he was about to do. But Potter merely looked back at him before clasping Draco by the back of the neck, locking the two into a heated kiss once again.
And Draco simply stopped caring.
"Accio lube!" Draco groaned, extending his hand to catch the small container that came soaring through the doors of Draco's bedroom.
"Being a bit presumptuous, eh, Malfoy?" Potter scoffed as he mouthed against Draco jaw, tasting Draco's rapid pulse.
"Please, Potter. As though – oh! – we were going to stop before this," Draco muttered sarcastically, his voice losing momentum when Potter bit at the thin skin of his collarbone, those rough fingers rubbing across Draco's pert nipples.
Potter chuckled, pulling back to shrug his shirt off his tanned, broad shoulders. "You're probably right," he agreed before wrapping his hands around Draco's waist, leaning his mouth towards Draco, who met the kiss whole-heartedly, reaching up to thread his fingers into those messy locks, the jar of lubricant falling to the floor with a dull thump!
The air seemed too thick to breathe when Potter kissed Draco's sternum, then the soft skin above his belly button. "Fuck," Draco exhaled as he tossed his head back, his eyes staring at the ceiling as he felt Potter unbutton his trousers, Draco lifting his hips to help Potter pull the black fabric out of the way.
"Draco," Potter called, forcing the Slytherin under him to raise his head and meet those burning eyes, unbarred by his glasses now. Potter's coarse fingertips brushed the pale skin on his hipbones, branding their touch in Draco's skin. When Potter, who never broke his iron gaze with Draco, began pushing down the waistband of Draco's pants, the blonde suddenly, surreally realized Harry fucking Potter was about to suck his cock.
It was terrifying.
But then Potter was running the sandpaper-velvety heat of his tongue against his prick and none of it mattered anymore.
Draco felt as though the wind had been knocked out of his lungs as he watched Potter's wet tongue trail up his reddened skin, feeling the mesmerising ripples of pleasure up his spine. Potter might not have been the most skilled person to have ever given him a blow-job, but he sure as hell was the most enthusiastic and determined to make Draco fall apart.
"Potter – ah!" Draco lifted his head from where it'd fallen against the settee's arm, reaching down to rest his palms on Potter's temples, futilely trying to simultaneously pull Potter away from his cock and desperately keep that wet heat around him a moment longer. That wild, reckless warmth was pooling in his abdomen, threating to drag him into oblivion. But Potter didn't stop, those green eyes smirking at him as that mouth wrapped around him.
"Oh fuck…" Draco closed his eyes in pained ecstasy, pulling at Potter's hair as that tongue pressed against the sensitive underside of his cock, pushing him just a bit closer to the edge. Just a little more – Draco opened his eyes when that wet heat was suddenly gone, the cool air of the common room chilling his skin. "Potter?"
But his squawk of indignation was cut short as Potter pressed his mouth against his, slipping his tongue inside. They both groaned, sharing the salty, bitter taste of Draco's leaking cock, the denied member now rubbing against the obvious bulge on the abrasive fabric of Potter's jeans.
"Potter, why did you stop?" Draco gasped against the other man's lips, his pale hands feeling the shift in the muscles of Potter's back as the Gryffindor slowly ground his hips against Draco.
Potter braced his elbows on either side of Draco's head, boxing him in as those green eyes watched him, glazed with arousal. "I really want to fuck you," Potter whispered like a prayer, like a sin.
Draco's heart skipped a beat.
If this is goodbye…
He pushed away the thought, the pain, the fear, and just focused on Potter. Potter.
He braced his feet on the soft pillows, letting his knees knock against Potter's hips. "Have you ever fucked a bloke before?" He asked calmly, if a bit breathlessly, as though Potter's cloth-covered erection wasn't rubbing temptingly against his own. Colour blossomed high on Potter's cheeks, and he broke his gaze with Draco.
"No. I don't have a whole lot of experience in this…area," he heard him mutter. Draco couldn't stifle the shock of heat that ran through his spine at the thought of being Potter's first.
"Have you fucked a girl?" Potter met his eyes, nodding.
"Twice. It didn't really work out."
"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you how, then."
Potter flashed that crooked smirk of his, causing Draco to lean up and taste it, wrapping his legs around Potter's waist and pulling Potter's erection more fully against his own. The two men groaned into each other's mouth, drunk on the feeling.
"So…can I?" Potter panted, mouthing at Draco's pulse. It jumped underneath his lips.
Draco couldn't stop the memories: Theo's fumbling fingers, the confused, budding knowledge of two fifteen-year-olds, and the stabbing pain of that first entry – then his own attempt at topping with Geoffrey, mere weeks before his horrible sixth year had begun, and how Draco had felt such guilt when the other boy bled afterwards. He suppressed a shudder.
But this was Potter. And everything was different with Potter.
And if this is your last time…He silenced that thought violently.
"Alright. But you better be fucking careful, Po – Harry," Draco mumbled, holding Potter's head to his collarbone so that he wouldn't have to see his expression at the use of Potter's given name, the word feeling so foreign on his tongue.
Potter's cock twitched in the confines of his jeans, making another spurt of pre-come dampen the heated skin of Draco's abdomen. Draco finally met Harry's eyes, feeling too open in their captivated look.
"Dra–" Draco cut him off before he could say anything stupid, instead pressing his hands against Harry's shoulders and pushing him onto his back, so that Draco straddled his lap with an ironic smirk.
"But I'm on top," he proclaimed quietly, holding his hand out and accio-ing his small, silver jar of lube from underneath the couch. Harry merely blinked at him, his aroused flush spreading to his muscled chest as he grasped at Draco's bony hips.
"I – I have no problem with that," Harry's voice broke. Draco's unforgiving smile grew, and he flicked his wrist, Vanishing the few remain articles of clothing. "Oi!" Harry hissed at the sudden contact between his hardened prick and Draco's arse. Harry let his head fall back onto the arm of the settee, exposing the long line of his throat. "I hope you can get those back – that was my favourite pair of jeans."
Draco chuckled tightly, leaning over to bite at Harry's neck as he uncapped the dish, spreading the slick substance on two of his fingers before drawing them back to his exposed hole. Harry sat up a little at the sharp breath Draco drew as he pressed his middle finger in. "W-What are you doing?" Harry asked breathlessly, watching over Draco's shoulder.
"Wha-ah!-t does it look like I'm doing?" Draco answered, failing to keep the sarcastic edge to his tone as he pressed another finger in alongside the first.
"Are you fingering yourself?" Harry whispered in awe, answering his own question as his burning palms trailed across Draco's sweaty back, spreading Draco's arse as curious fingertips brushed against the reddened rim of his hole. Draco gasped as Harry gripped his hand, pulling out Draco's fingers before pressing his own into the tight ring of muscle. The dry digits burned at first, but Draco had smeared enough lube against his arse that he could soon only feel the rough pleasure as Harry stretched him.
"Oh, fuck," he mumbled against Harry's neck as Harry sat up completely, causing Draco to shift even further down on Harry's fingers and lap.
"Y'alright?" Harry asked quietly, his soft tone contradicted by the harsh rhythm he was pressing into Draco.
"Yes – ah! Right there!" Draco yelped as Harry brushed against that little bundle of nerves he only ever managed to find every now and then.
"Here?"
"Fuck! Yes!" Draco leaned away from Harry's chest, pushing the Saviour once again onto his back. He grinned as the leaking head of Harry's cock rubbed against his arse, and he pulled Harry's hand away from his hole.
He grabbed the jar, which had fallen onto the cushions at some point. He spread more onto his fingers, reaching down to provokingly pump Harry's painfully-hard erection. Harry hissed, the sound delightful to Draco's ears.
"Now sit still," Draco mumbled as he lifted himself up onto his knees, reaching back to grab at Harry's cock.
"Wait!" Draco paused, looking at Harry with a questioning eyebrow raised. "W-what about condoms?"
"'Condoms?'" Draco blinked at him, before it struck him. "Oh, those counterdeceptive things Muggles use." He grinned down at Harry, at the wild look in those emerald eyes. Fuck, you're beautiful. "Wizards don't get Muggle diseases, Potter."
And any words Harry might have had in response fled his mind as Draco sunk down on his cock. Draco groaned and Harry made an embarrassingly high squeak as more and more of Harry's considerable length slipped into Draco's constricted, hot passage.
"Holy fuck," Harry croaked, bruising Draco's hips with his grip. The blonde merely sighed in response, feeling light-headed as his arse sat flush against the toned skin of Harry's abdomen and thighs.
Draco's legs quivered from effort as he lifted himself up, and he hummed softly as Harry's cock filled him once again. "Y-you okay, Draco?" He heard Harry ask, his voice raw as Draco ground his hips, trying to hit his prostate again.
Draco opened his eyes, wondering when he'd closed them, and he leaned over Harry, mimicking their earlier position, only that Draco was boxing Harry in this time. He grinned softly, knowing he probably looked disgustingly fond. "I'm fucking brilliant," he whispered, breathily snickering against Harry's jaw as a jolt of pleasure made his head swim. "And how are you?" He asked politely, as though they were chatting about the Quidditch over a cuppa.
Harry suddenly reached up, grabbing a handful of Draco's hair and tugging him backwards, so that Draco could stare into the animalistic glint in Harry's eye. "I couldn't be better," Harry smiled madly as he thrust up into Draco, causing the Slytherin to arch his back in surprise. Harry grasped Draco's arse in both hands, his thumbs almost brushing against Draco's stretched rim as he fucked into the blonde.
Draco's hands curled into fists, his bloody fingernails digging against the fabric of the cushions. He caught Harry's mouth in a searing kiss, a dirty fight between their teeth and tongues as Harry continued his brutal rhythm.
That tight feeling began to pull at Draco's attention, and he ran the hand he wasn't using for support down Harry's chest until he reached his own neglected cock, which wept clear, sticky drops of pre-come against his navel. He thumbed the slit, panting into Harry's mouth as he hit his prostate on a particularly harsh thrust.
"Fuck, Potter," he whined as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"What?" The other man groaned, flicking his tongue against Draco's chin, nibbling on it lightly.
"I'm –" Draco didn't finish the warning, twisted his palm just the right way for that knot of squirmy heat to expand, his climax bursting through him as he cried out, come striping across his hand and onto Harry's stomach.
"Oh, God," Draco heard Harry curse as he collapsed against the Gryffindor's flushed, sweaty chest, his head feeling fuzzy with aftershocks as Harry thrust into him one, two, three more times before biting down onto Draco's neck with a groan.
Harry's body shook as he came, and Draco could feel that warmth fill him up. He pressed light kisses to Harry's shoulder, neck, any skin in reach as Harry shivered beneath him.
I love you.
Goodbye.
ooOoo
To be Continued…
ooOoo
606's Note: So…This was way longer than a usual chapter – and nearly all of it was sex! 'bout time, amirite? Anyways, I'm thinking there'll maybe be two or three more chapters, and then we'll be all done!
