Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers and Warner Bros. This story is based on characters and situations created by the amazing J. K. Rowling, however no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story is written for fun and all we own is the plot idea which is part of our very warped imagination.
Author's Note: Written in 1st POV. One scene makes up one chapter. Please note that the first few chapters are rather short; however let us assure you that this changes as the story progresses. Selly (Selly87) wrote Draco's POV, whilst Bru (dracosoftie) wrote Harry's POV, which considering that Bru has a soft spot for Draco, did not cause a brutal catfight between the two authors. The decision as to who writes which character was a mutual one and if you check the records of St Mungo A&E you will find none, unless of course you check for the records of one Harry Potter and one Draco Malfoy.

Chapter 25:

Draco's POV, four days later, late afternoon, Malfoy Manor, Draco's study

"Would you fucking cut out the bloody pacing!" I snap at Potter, who stops dead in his track and turns to look at me – clearly quite shocked at the way I just spoke to him. "You're making nervous, Potter, I can't concentrate." I glare and giving Potter a pointed look, I turn my gaze back to my laptop screen – Potter was so kind to email me the edited version of the latest chapter of my book after finally having finished it, which I send him – prior to showing up at Malfoy Manor for our latest meeting. Unlike the last time, two days ago, when he showed up in his formal Auror uniform – flustered and all apologetic for being late – and of course without his notes, questions and suggestions.

Starting at the top of the page, I try to concentrate on the paragraph to take in Potter's suggestions – I have to admit his input has been quite valuable. Of course I've no intention of letting him know that, but so far he really poured his heart, soul and mind into making important comments. He hasn't stepped out of line, and for some reason I doubt he will, but he has been very patient and on the one or other odd occasion he gave me some exclusive insight into things that were still a bit hazy.

I'm tempted to ask him to show me one of his memories in my pensieve, but for the time being I haven't dared to push my luck that far just yet. I'm pretty sure Potter would dig his heels in and refuse point blank to cooperate, so I'm keeping my wish to myself, even though I have to admit that my request has been on the tip of my tongue for the better part of the last week. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to resist the temptation of speaking up. I don't want a memory that includes Voldemort – I don't think I could stand having to see his face again after what he put me through in my sixth and seventh year in Hogwarts. But I would like a memory that would help me understand Potter just that little bit better.

I don't even know why I'm so mad about it, but I can't help it. I want to dive into that memory; I want Potter to share something with me he hasn't shared with anyone. I want Potter to give me something he'd never give another wizard or witch. I can't quite explain why I want what I want, but because I can't deny it either, so I've come to the conclusion that as long as I don't have to admit it out loud I'm safe. I can live with knowing what I want, however I cannot live with someone else knowing about it.

Biting back a sigh, I shake my head and push my thoughts to the back of my mind – this isn't going to help my concentration one bit. And damn it, Potter's pacing again! Merlin, I think I'm going to hex him if he doesn't quit walking a hole into the floor of my study pretty soon.

It is with determination that I push my chair back and, getting up, I straighten myself up to my full height, flex my shoulder muscles and round my desk. Heading to the small bar in the corner of my study, I pour myself a generous Firewhisky and with one quick glance at Potter, I pour him a drink too. Merlin knows he looks like he could do with a stiff drink.

I take a cautious sip of my drink and with Potter's glass in my left hand I make my way across the room to my over-nervous house guest. Blocking his way, I effectively stop him in his tracks. He flinches and looks at me with surprise and some other emotion that I can't quite place. I hesitate for a moment but then I push the drink into his hand and make sure his fingers actually close around the glass properly, instead of letting it drop to the floor. My brief contact with Potter's hand sends odd tingles shooting up my arm and down my spine and I can hardly resist the temptation to shudder. That brief touch brings back memories that I've kept firmly buried deep inside since Potter and I returned from our stint in that seedy little hotel room.

"Drink!" I instruct and Potter obeys without hesitation. "And for the last time, quiet the fucking pacing! What the hell is wrong with you anyway? You act like an army of ants crawled up your arse."

Surprisingly my metaphor for Potter's nervousness makes him chuckle. "Not an army of ants, just the Daily Prophet."

I raise my eyebrow with interested. "Has this morning's edition hit Saint Potter where it hurts?"

"Did you read the article?" Potter asks me and I shake my head. I haven't touched the Prophet since way before I started on my book. My mother updates me with what's happening in the wizarding world – she is only too happy to be able to give me a brief summary on the most important things and has been clearly instructed to leave out all the gossip – I'm not interested in that bullocks.

"I don't read the Prophet, Potter."

"Just as well," Potter sighs and knocks his Firewhisky back. Accioing the bottle, I fill Potter's glass up once more and thanking me, he knocks that one back too. My, today's update about Potter's private life really seems to have riled our Savior up quite a bit. I'm intrigued. I want to know what happened.

"Spill," I order and instantly find myself wondering why I just said that.

"Justin," Potter sighs and I can't help but glare at Potter. In the last four weeks I've probably fantasized more about hexing Justin Finch-Fletchley to the North Pole – without his wand and clad in only boxer shorts – than I've wanked, and that is saying something. That Justin boy just drives me up the wall. And the fact that he wormed his way into Potter's pants really doesn't sit well with me. I just want to wrap my hands around Finch-Fletchley's throat and strangle him until he takes his very last breath. That boy doesn't deserve Potter and I can't believe that Potter's standards are so low. How could he take a fucking Hufflepuff into his bed? How could he sink so low and fuck a Hufflepuff – how could he? Honestly, I've been desperate in my life, very desperate, but I've never been that desperate. Thank Merlin! I do have my standards and not even the irresistible urge to shove my cock up some hot, tight arse – and fuck said arse till its owner sees stars – has ever had me desperate enough to seek out a Hufflepuff's company for the night.

"Trouble in paradise?" I spit. The least I want to hear is Potter pouring his heart out to me, because I might just have to strangle him too. I'm not his therapist and I've no intention of taking on said job – I've enough to deal with as it is. Potter's mind is far too fucked up – all hope that therapy could help him even just a little bit is well and truly lost.

"What paradise?" Potter frowns. "Justin walked out on me earlier this week and the Prophet is making such a big fucking deal about it that anyone could think I left him standing at the fucking altar."

I can't help but laugh at that. I know it's not right and Potter's glare should really sober me up but fuck it, this is just too good! Finch-Fletchley walked out on Potter and the Prophet is giving Potter grief about it. Oh, this is hilarious! And I didn't even do anything to wreck up their relationship – I admit that I've toyed with the idea but I really couldn't come up with anything mind-blowing so I didn't make a move. Looks like I don't have to wrack my mind any further though. Finch-Fletchley is finally out of the picture, and if I wasn't laughing so hard or ducking from the jinx Potter just fired at me, I'd be skipping through the Manor with glee.

"What the fuck is so funny, Malfoy?" Potter snarls at me and fires a Jelly-Legs Jinx at me. I side-step it with ease and watch it bounce off the wall and hit the closed – and locked, I might add – door to my study.

Biting my bottom lip hard, I shake myself and stop laughing before Potter starts with the serious jinxes. "The fact that Finch-Fletchley did a kiss and tell on you…" I say as sincerely as I can, but there's a twinkle in my eye that I can't quite hide.

"Who says he did a kiss and tell?" Potter frowns and Accios the Firewhisky bottle – which I wisely put down on my desk before I doubled over laughing – and pours himself his third drink of the evening.

"Come on, Potter. You dumped him. What else do you think he'd go and do? You hurt him! The Savior of the Wizarding world kicked Finch-Fletchley out – you hurt his ego. Of course he's going to pay you back, using the press. It's the only way to rile you up!"

"Being in the same room with you does the job just fine," Potter mutters under his breath before he knocks back his drink and I politely overhear his little nag – for the moment anyway, he will be getting his share for that comment, there's no doubt about that. "And for your information, I did not dump Justin. As I said, he walked out on me."

"Well he'd be a complete and utter idiot to tell the press that. It wouldn't sell his story quite as well now, would it?"

"Justin wouldn't do that." Potter shakes his head pours himself his fourth drink. I wait until he's done pouring his drink, then I Accio the bottle from his hand and place it on the bookshelf.

"Enough with the drink, Potter, we both know what happened the last time you drank too much and came to Malfoy Manor," I chide, and Potter rolls his eyes at me.

"He didn't do a kiss and tell on me, Malfoy. Justin is a good man, he wouldn't do that." Potter shakes his head and I roll my eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Potter, if the press is blowing it completely out of proportion then he did. Are they quoting him?"

"Yes."

"Well then he did a kiss and tell, that's it. They're liable if they quote Justin without having interviewed him. They may misquote him and get off easy, but putting words into somebody else's mouth is a crime!" I give Potter a pointed look and striding across the room; I take Potter's glass from his hands and put it down on the little coffee table next to the comfortable armchair Potter usually sits in when I read over his notes and comments. "Quit the sulky face," I order, and despite my best efforts my voice sounds a lot softer than I'd intended it to sound.

"Is nothing in his world sacred?" Potter sighs heavily and taking a clumsy step backward, he falls into the armchair.

"Not in your world." I shrug, and giving Potter the once over I lick my lips and swallow hard. Merlin, he fucking looks good. The tan he got in Florida has only faded a tiny bit and his muscular features are still as prominent as ever. I wonder if he still works out every day – I wouldn't put it past him. Even though I try – albeit half-heartedly – I can't stop my body from reacting to Potter's and for once I'm very glad that I decided to throw on my green robes before I let Potter in – they hide my current predicament quite well – and thank Merlin for that or I would have some explaining to do! But for the love of everything magical, Potter looks hot, there's no disputing that. It doesn't help that I don't even need to try hard to picture him naked and aroused. I've seen him naked often enough and it's without a doubt the hottest sight I've ever seen.

Glancing at Potter's face, my eyes lock with his and I'm astounded to find my own feelings mirrored on those vibrant green eyes that have been the reason for most of my recent sleepless nights. Suddenly the air around us is crackling with anticipation and I find myself taking a step forward without being able to resist. I can feel the sensations of the arousal, that's floating in the air around us, brush against my bare skin and when Potter's magic – wild and untamed – suddenly flares up, I shiver at the nonexistent breeze.

Before I have a chance to process what's happening, Potter is out of his chair and his lips are one mine. He's kissing me with passion that I haven't experienced since… since… since Potter last fucked me, some two months ago. And I'm kissing him back just as passionately. Now that his lips are on mine, there's no stopping me and to my own surprise my magic, for the first time ever, – wild and uncontrolled just like Potter's – suddenly whips around us. We both shudder with anticipation but instead of pausing, it only serves to heighten the sensations and stumbling about my study we tear at each other's clothing. Buttons fly, material rips and by the time Potter has me pressed up against the door we're both naked, managing to undress each other without the use of magic.

Potter pauses for a moment and I watch him hungrily drinking in my features before he assaults my neck, kissing, biting, licking and sucking. I moan and, slamming my palms against the wood of the door, I willingly expose my neck to Potter's assault. But much to my dismay he's already moved on. He moves along my shoulder, down my chest and when he sucks on my aroused nipple, my knees buckle dangerously. Potter's hands are quick to steady my hips and without the slightest bit of shame he drops to his knees and sucks my hard cock into his mouth. I groan and stare transfixed as Potter eagerly swallows my whole length in pretty much one go and brings one hand down to cup my balls and squeeze them softy.

I last all but two minutes before my knees begin to tremble and, throwing my head back, I lick my dry lips and come on a loud, guttural groan. I shoot my load into Potter's awaiting mouth and even though the blood's rushing in my ears, I can hear and feel Potter swallowing every last drop before he carefully pulls back and my spent cock slips from his bruised, red lips.

Unable to keep myself upright, I slump to the ground and moments later I find myself on my back, my ankles resting on Potter's shoulders and his face inches from mine. I can't say I noticed the Lubrication and Stretching Spell Potter used, but he must've cast them because his cock easily slips inside me and he drives all the into my tight channel, not pausing to allow me to adjust. He brushes that sweet spot deep inside of me and even though I've only just come, my body's once again on fire…

"Fuck!" I pant and wrapping my hands around Potter's neck, I pull him closer, forcing him to kiss me. He does so willingly, though his rhythm doesn't falter – Potter is quite an expert in multi-tasking when it comes to hot, passionate sex and I have to admit that I'm an absolute slut for it.

"I intend to fuck you!" Potter murmurs against my lips and nips at my bottom lip. My first name slips from his lips, much to my astonishment, and though it's barely louder than a shaky breath it feels like Potter just shouted it. I'm on fire and I've never felt so fucking turned on by anyone saying my name. Oh sweet fucking Merlin, I'm rock hard again within seconds! There's no resisting Potter's charms and I'm too busy enjoying Potter's cock driving in and out of me to curse the fact that Potter's thoroughly wormed his way under my skin.

"Good. Fuck me hard," I beg shamelessly. If he stops, if he pauses to tease or draw things out, I swear I will string him up by his balls. I want a good hard fuck!

"I intend to, Draco, I'll fuck you so hard you'll still feel me inside you tomorrow night," Potter whispers, and shudder after shudder shocks me right through to the core. I'm unable to comprehend exactly what's going on, but this is by far the hottest fuck of my life! I don't even care that I'm freely admitting that fact or that I'm a total and utter slut for Potter's cock up my arse. Quite frankly I don't care about anything at all, except Potter lips on mine, his roaming hands on my body and his cock shoved up my arse. Even the fact that the carpet is burning my entire back doesn't concern me. The pain blends in perfectly with the immense pleasure of Potter's thrusts and his cock rubbing against that sweet spot within me. I'm in Heaven – this couldn't possibly get any better.

Except that it could. When my second orgasm tears through me, it feels like my whole body is burning, rapidly plunging down a cliff into the surging, angry waves of the ocean below where I'm pulled under by the fierce current. My second load hits Potter's stomach at the exact same time as his load fills me up and he falls forward, completely and utterly spent and most definitely exhausted. Usually I would shove him off me, but right now I couldn't care any less about his body weight on top of mine. My body feels boneless and my eyelids won't stay open no matter what I try. My last conscious thought is that this was not quite what I had in mind when I asked Potter to edit my book, though I definitely don't regret asking him now. Fuck, that man knows how to shag somebody into oblivion and I want to tell him so, but my lips stubbornly only form one word – one name. "Harry." Potter's first name cuts through Potter's and my pants like a sharp knife slashing an animal's throat and with a stupid grin on my lips, I succumb to the intense pull and fall fast asleep right where I am.

TBC