"Thursday's gonna be a long one, five to eleven." Draco bit back a groan as he scratched in the information to his schedule on the long table before his couch. "Friday's a fitting, noon to one, then Saturday and Sunday off."

He reached his right hand for a glass of firewhiskey that wasn't there, and frowned. No drinking for a whole year. Bloody hell, I hope it doesn't do my head in. He reluctantly withdrew his hand to fist on his lap as his quill moved over the parchment of his planner. He'd nearly filled out the whole month's worth, and hoped Maureen was coming to a close soon, but didn't bet on it.

"Right, what next?"

"The twenty-first is split into two, a morning shoot and an afternoon shoot with an hour for lunch. Ten to noon and then three to seven."

He traded his fist from his lap to his hair as he leaned over his lap, scripting in the times for the appropriate date. The ponytail the stylists had drawn his magically grown-out hair into was starting to ache, and he ripped it free rather ungracefully as he barely managed to swallow another groan. His blond tresses spilled free over his shoulder, and he ruffled his scalp with his nails before again, again, reaching for a glass that wasn't there.

"Got it," he bit out as he scrubbed the heel of his palm into his eye.

Bet I look even more like him with my hair this long.

"The next week is a hardball, five to ten shoots all seven days." Finally, the groan he'd been wrestling with broke free of his control, and Maureen sighed over his Loquorum. "I know, I know. Should've requested a more controlled work week, honestly."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as she admonished him, again, for not reading the contract thoroughly. "What's next?"

Just as Maureen was launching into the last week of the month, a crack went through his flat, and he felt his wards splinter. Sitting up suddenly, he snatched his wand off the low table and slowly rose to his feet. As he frowned around suspiciously, the empty space above the rug in the centre of his living room warped, as if drawing in on itself, and then with a deafening BANG, his wards shattered and there, on his rug, stood a very, very distraught Harry Potter.

"The fuck was that?" Maureen demanded, but Draco wasn't listening. Harry, dressed to the nines in a black tux that was sorely dishevelled, gasping like he'd never breathed air before, was looking so peaky he might've collapsed then and there.

"Maureen, let me call you back." The wand still in his hand sent a flick of dismissal to his Loquorum and then dropped to the table again as he nearly lept over it to catch Harry's descent to his knees. "What the fuck happened to you?"

Harry gripped the front of his jumper in shaking hands and leaned into him. So, expecting no answer anytime soon, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around his trembling shoulders. Christ, I've never seen him so bad before. He wheezed into Draco's chest a moment more before releasing his jumper to start frantically tearing at his crooked tie, his blazer, the buttons of his dress shirt.

"Easy, easy," Draco soothed as he assisted him. The poor bugger couldn't even fumble with the tiny buttons, as badly were his hands shaking. Once he was topless, though, he was reaching for the hem of Draco's jumper and tugging it up. None of it made any sense to him, because like hell was Harry looking to get laid in the state he was in, but he agreeably pulled the cashmere up over his head, and then the brunette had his arms around his waist, pulling their bare torsos together like Draco was a cooling draught and he'd been on fire.

Indeed, Harry felt like he'd been on fire. His skin was feverish to the touch, but the longer they held each other, the slower his urgent little gasps were coming. When he was finally breathing deeply, he managed a word:

"S-sorry," he stuttered on a shuddering exhale. Draco smirked.

"You're alright." Rutherford's own casters put those wards up. Casters on par with the Ministry's. Fucking Christ, I'll never get over how powerful his magic is.

Harry drew ragged, but deep, purposeful breaths for several more moments of silence before his bone-breaking grip around Draco's ribs eased fractionally.

"...why I n-never go to these fucking things," he gasped, breath hitching in his throat as he wilted slightly against Draco.

Ah. He sighed against Harry's shoulder, rubbing one of his palms up and down the length of his spine. Of course, he couldn't help but be curious what'd happened to him, but that one sentence answered enough.

"You're alright," he repeated quietly, pressing a kiss to his neck. And was quite pleased to feel Harry's lingering trembling ease even more, so he decided to paint all the skin he could reach with his mouth.

Within minutes, he was breathing evenly, blessedly still in his arms. Draco's lips couldn't quite drink enough of his skin, though, and he was suddenly reminded of that night he'd been compelled to kiss Harry like he was all he wanted in the world. He couldn't resist now any more than he could then.

"What's with the hair?" Harry wondered after a while, voice muffled against Draco's chest. And he snorted.

"Rutherford's signed me. Guess they wanted me slightly more feminine?"

Harry hummed, rubbing his brow against Draco's clavicle almost… Affectionately.

"Looks nice," he murmured quietly.

Draco swallowed, not wanting to talk about, or think about his looks, particularly his hair, or the similarities he was sure it granted him. Determined to redirect the conversation, he carefully pried himself out of Harry's arms to take his shoulders in hand, frowning down into his tear-streaked, slightly flushed face.

"Alright?"

Harry hiccuped, the flush in his cheeks darkening slightly as he nodded. "S-sorry, I… I didn't mean to–"

God fucking dammit, fuck me right to hell, Draco moaned in the back of his mind as his lips crashed against Harry's again, again, as if compelled by some outside force. Of course, this wasn't the case, it was all purely him, but he could rail against some imagined force just as easily as he could rip himself to shreds. And Harry didn't stiffen, didn't pull away or resist. His mouth opened easily to him, offered his tongue, accepted his own, and Draco drowned in him.

This man is going to be the death of me.

He's kissing me like that again… Harry'd already reached the conclusion that Draco fancied him, but to be fully sober (albeit still a bit out of sorts) and receiving the full force of that kiss was… Intoxicating. So intoxicating he didn't even have a corner of awareness to worry about the fact that he was reciprocating, and quite happily.

He was on his back beneath the blond before he even realised he'd been easing him onto the rug. But then their mouths separated, and grey eyes blinked down at him like he'd just been caught using an Unforgivable.

"Sorry, I… I know this isn't why you came over, I didn't m-mean to–"

"You like me," Harry blurted. The initial shock in Draco's eyes hardened into a scowl, but he didn't argue. Didn't deny it. Only frowned down at Harry's shoulder, as if he was waiting for a scolding.

For some reason, now that it was out in the air, Harry found the admission… Pleasant. Not excruciating like it'd been when he'd first put the pieces together. Maybe it was the way Draco's chest-length hair was spilling over his shoulders, curtaining around his face, or the way he looked so fucking guilty, or the way that Harry really didn't mind being kissed like that, but something strangely warm gathered in that spot in his chest where he usually felt a sickening tightness at moments like these. He felt a corner of his lips twitch upwards.

This little flicker of emotion drew Draco's scowl up from his shoulder, and the frown on his brow bent into something a little more like confusion.

"H-how do you… Feel about that?"

Harry's cheeks warmed, feeling suddenly exposed under Draco's studious observation of his face, but hesitantly, he reached up to tuck a stray lock of blond behind his ear.

"Not… Terrible," he admitted. Relief broke through Draco's frown, and he huffed a strangled laugh. Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah?"

He hummed in answer, trailing his fingers through the soft length of blond between them.

"Bit barking, considering I'm just about the most maladjusted individual known to mankind."

Draco laughed again, a bit easier, and Harry found himself joining in. More than a bit. This is mental. Do I… Like him too? Is that why I find his touch so soothing?

As Draco's laughter died, his throat constricted to see Harry gazing up at him like… Like he was seeing him for the first time. S'pose it was about time, given that I can't seem to act fucking normal around the git. What the fuck is wrong with me? Lying is how I survived, how I make my livelihood, but when it comes to him…

"Thanks for…" Harry's eyes fanned up at him, his flush deepening slightly. "S-sorry about your wards."

A smirk curled Draco's lips. "Suppose even the best casters can't make them Potter-proof."

Harry mirrored his smirk, but it lasted only a breath. And then he was giving him that look again, and Draco couldn't parse it for the life of him, but just when he was about to ask–

"K-kiss me again," he breathed.

Draco froze. Topless, propped above an equally topless Harry Potter in the middle of his living room, having just admitted to having feelings for the prick, and he was asking him to kiss him? Not terrible at all, it seems.

Slowly, uncertain if Harry really meant what he thought he meant, he lowered his lips back down to reconnect them. For the first time, it wasn't just compulsion that had his mouth moving softly, tenderly against the brunette's. And since his wretched truth was already exposed, he only felt slightly abashed for the passion he poured into his kiss.

Harry sucked in a sharp gasp from his mouth, and then his arms were around his neck, meeting his lips pass for pass and even claiming his lower lip with his teeth for a heartbeat. Christ…

One of his elbows lowered to the rug beside Harry, and he threaded his fingers through his brown hair, tight against the scalp as if he might've tried to escape. His arms were holding him so firmly down onto himself, though, that neither of them could've escaped if they'd tried. And that little seedling of a crush he'd thought he'd killed off years ago reached a few more inches through the surface of his soul. Sprouted a few leaves, a flower. Perfumed the inside of his head with its dizzying fragrance as he poured himself into Harry's mouth.

Without so much as a twitch to indicate his intention, or to give Draco a moment to prepare, Harry flipped them over so he was propped over him. And an embarrassing yelp left his lips as the brunette smiled down at him.

"I've got a bit of pent up energy, I hope you don't mind." He lowered his lips to fuck with his earlobe, and an agreeable groan escaped him.

"Are you gonna spell my prostate again?" Harry chuckled into his ear.

"You don't want me to?" he whispered, sultry and low. And a shiver went up Draco's spine at the memory of that damned spell. How it had positively wrecked him. I've got to get him to teach me that spell.

"Whatever suits your pleasure, Mister Potter," he grinned back as Harry's lips trailed a line of fire down his neck to his shoulder, where he sucked the skin into his mouth.

One of the perks of being a magical model was any marks left by a lover could easily be concealed with a wave of a wand. And goddamn if Draco didn't want Harry to leave him decorated.

"I think you deserve a fair shake," Harry rasped, increasingly short of breath as he pressed his hips against Draco's, earning another groan. A curse broke on the brunette's lips, and not a moment later, they were both suddenly, surprisingly naked. Their gasps echoed each other, and Harry cut a breathless laugh as he lifted once again to peer down at Draco. "Wandless magic comes in handy sometimes."

"Clearly," he answered with a witless smile of his own. Harry's lips came crashing back down onto Draco's, and he tasted the measured patience in his mouth that replaced the frenzy he expected. Seemed he was determined to prove himself this time, and Draco was only too happy to finally witness the Seeker's prowess to its full.

Harry lined himself up before they'd been prepped, and Draco nearly broke away to warn him, but again, seemingly without a thought, he felt the necessary spells settle in him, and it was a gasp that inevitably broke apart their lips.

"Ho-holy shit," he gasped beneath Harry, and glimpsed the pleased grin on his face before he was pushing himself in.

"Just wait," he promised.

Harry hadn't been lying. After an episode like that, he was absolutely brimming with unspent energy. Energy he wasted no time in dealing to Draco as he expressed his full athletic abilities on him.

His eyes might've rolled back in his head, hell, he might've gone blind from the pleasure, but all he knew was one minute he was blinking up at Harry's furrowed brow, the next was white. All his senses but feel, gone within the span of a breath. The soft rug, turning rougher and rougher beneath him as Harry rutted him against it, his spine arching off of it, strong shoulders in his arms, and Harry, deep and firm and strong inside him. And unbelievably fast. So fast. Holy shit…

As his body slowly adjusted to the indescribable pleasure he was being dealt, sound returned. The first of which was his own voice – screaming, unlike anything he'd ever heard from himself. He'd heard himself scream in agony, in fear, but never like this. Nothing like this.

And then Harry – Harry above him, gasping and grunting and groaning like Draco was–

"Fffffucking Christ, you– Uff–! Feel so fucking good– Haa-!"

Draco's legs lifted on their own to wrap around his waist, arms similarly clinging to his sculpted shoulders, as he held on for dear life. Never, in all his escapades and forays, had he ever, ever been fucked like this. This is what it's like to fuck a Quidditch star. The Cup champion.

His cock ached to be touched, twitched between them as Harry fucked him into oblivion, but he couldn't even begin to tear his arm from his shoulders. It'd been years since he'd been able to cum without the joint stimulation, but if he was gonna keep fucking him like this…

A filthy swear left Harry's gasping lips as he lowered himself to Draco's ear, and then–

"D-Draco…"

Draco saw stars. It wasn't until maybe twenty thrusts later that he realised he'd cum, so thoroughly was Harry assaulting his centre of pleasure, but when the knowledge made itself known to him, his eyes shot open in shock.

He's still going…

"Oh, fuck… Oh, shit, Christ– Draco, I–"

He was still screaming. Despite the fact that he'd just cum, for the first time in years, just from being fucked, he couldn't rein in his voice. And it was with a distant sense of amusement he realised he'd likely lose his voice from this. Couldn't be bothered to care, though, because his language function kicked back in just then.

"Y-yes– Harry-! C-cum for me, I– AH! Ahhaa– I-inside me–! P-please- AH!"

Fingers tightened in his hair, dragging his head back against the rug as a wretched groan from Harry sent a shiver up Draco's spine. Fucking Christ, he'd already been viciously rearranging his guts, but this last sprint only shattered his expectations again, as he damn-near sent Draco into another dimension.

A combination of holy fucking shit and Jesus fucking Christ and oh fuck and oh my god all blended together in his head as Harry rode out his climax, crying so beautifully into his ear. And finally, finally, the Seeker collapsed atop him.