They make it as far as the stairs before they start kissing again. They'd paused briefly in the sitting room to gather up all their clothes, but now Harry's pressing Draco up against the bannister and their clothes are in danger of falling to the floor again as Draco's hands all but demand to be doing other things. But he pulls his head away long enough to say,

"Bedroom."

"Fine," Harry says. "Mine or yours."

"Does it matter?"

"Mine then. I know where everything is." Draco stumbles a bit as he continues to climb the stairs. It's not that he didn't think they might, but part of him wonders if this is moving too fast. But then, he thinks, the tension between them has been building for the past few weeks, not to mention all the years before.

"Are you," he starts to ask. He's not sure quite how to put this. "Do you want to—?" Draco hates the awkwardness, but he's never been good at these conversations.

"Either way," Harry says.

"You can, erm, be on top," Draco says.

"Really?" Draco nods. Of course he's going to let Harry fuck him. He's only dreamed of this since he found that book in the Restricted Section of the library. They've reached the door to Harry's bedroom now. Harry pushes it open and then throws his clothes near the foot of the bed. Draco lets his fall where he stands. A moment later, they're pressed together again, moving as one toward the bed.

Draco lets Harry push him down, the perfect mirror to what he'd done to Harry yesterday. To what had started this whole sequence of events. And then Harry's on top of him, leaning down to capture his mouth again and it is heaven. He can feel Harry's excitement where the other man is straddling him and it's making his own dick stir again.

Harry pulls away for a moment and leans over to open his bedside drawer. Draco looks over in curiosity, but he's just pulling out a condom and lube. Excitement sparks in the pit of Draco's stomach. This is really happening. This thing that he's dreamt of for years, even if he'd never fully admitted it. He looks up at Harry and sees that he looks just as lust drunk as he feels.

He reaches up and runs a hand down Harry's chest, marveling at the fact that he gets to do this. Though Harry's been gone from the aurors for at least the three weeks that Draco's been here, he's still in shape, probably from all the work they've been doing. Harry gives him a half smile, closing his eyes for a moment in before he lowers himself back down to Draco's mouth.

Draco decides that he could kiss Harry forever. The other parts are good too, but to be completely honest, he's enjoying just the slow movement of their mouths against each other. Draco's not sure who he should thank for Potter's kissing abilities. Ginny Weasley most likely. He sends that thought from his mind.

It's chased away further by Harry moving away from his mouth to trail a line of kisses down his neck. He pauses at the base of Draco's neck, sucking gently and Draco can't help it, he moans. This is quickly replaced by a gasp as Harry's fingers start working their way into Draco, stretching him. He takes his time though, letting Draco acclimate to two fingers before moving on to three. Draco almost wants to tell him to get on with it, but then Harry adds a fourth and he hisses.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks. Draco nods.

"Just… give me a moment." Harry nods and then goes back to kissing Draco's neck, while Draco wills his body to relax. "Okay," he says "I'm ready for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck me, Harry."

"Oh god," Harry breathes. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to hear those words."

"Really?"

"Shh," Harry says. "Now's not the time for talking." Draco supposes that's true, even as he burns to know how long Harry's wanted him.

"Okay," he says. "But do fuck me, please."

Harry nods and then moves until he's hovering just above Draco, a wide, excited expression on his face. He removes his fingers and then lifts one of Draco's legs up and slings it over his shoulder. Harry lifts his eyebrows in a question and Draco nods. Harry positions himself and then slowly, ever so slowly, pushes in.

He takes his time, letting Draco adjust to him until he's fully seated inside of him.

"Are you okay?" he asks again. Draco nods, not trusting himself to speak. This is different from how he had imagined their coupling in the past. He'd always thought they might meet by accident in the quidditch locker rooms and have rough, passionate, almost hate sex. But this is much better. Though it's not helping with the fact that Draco's starting to think he's falling in love with Harry.

Because he can imagine doing this with him every day. Hell, he can imagine spending all day in bed with Harry, neither of them getting up to do much, maybe just padding down to the kitchen to get food when they got hungry. Because Draco thinks he could have sex with Harry for the rest of his life. And they haven't even gotten to the good part yet.

After looking at Draco again to make sure that he's okay, Harry pulls out slightly and then pushes back in. After a few moments, he starts into a rhythm. Draco bites down on his lip as he looks up at him. Harry's hair is a mess: sweat is sticking parts of it to his forehead. But his eyes seem greener than ever, possibly because they're not hidden behind his usual glasses.

"Oh god," Harry whispers as he starts to pick up speed. "Fuck. Draco. Fuck."

"Harder," Draco gasps as Harry brushes the place inside that sends pleasure shooting through him. Harry complies, pounding into Draco with an intensity that soon has Draco crying out and seeing stars. Harry comes a moment later, as Draco spasms around him, and Draco makes a point to watch his face, so he can see the face that Harry Potter makes as he climaxes. Just in case he never gets to see it again.

Then Harry collapses, spent, on top of Draco, and Draco kisses his temple, tasting the salt from the sweat on his brow. Draco kisses him again, this time on the cheek.

"We may want to shower," he says. There's a sticky mess on his stomach and now it's all over Harry too. "Normally I'd just tergeo everything, but—"

"—Right, yes,," Harry says. "Virus." He pulls out slowly and then rolls off of Draco. "Are you going to join me in the shower?"

"I'm not sure I can go again."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Harry says, smirking. "Just that we both need to clean up."

"Yeah, alright then."

And though Draco had said he couldn't go again, somehow he finds the stamina for one last hand job in the shower.

…

Draco wakes on Wednesday morning in Harry's bed. The other man is still there, sprawled on his side of the bed, his mouth slightly open. Their legs are tangled under the covers and Draco is reluctant to move. He's not sure he's felt this peaceful since, well, since the last time he'd woken up in the same bed as Harry. But there's a different sort of contentment now. There's not the same worry of rejection that he'd felt before.

Or, at least, there wasn't until Draco started thinking about it. What if that had been just a one off night?

Without thinking, Draco reaches out and brushes some hair off of Harry's forehead, leaving his lightning scar exposed. Harry stirs at his touch and Draco pulls his arm back, watching as Harry slowly wakes up. Draco could get used to this, this waking up next to Harry. But he's getting ahead of himself.

"G'morning," he says, his mouth curving into an involuntary smile as Harry looks at him.

"Hi."

"How'd you sleep?"

"No nightmares." Harry brings a hand up to his mouth and yawns. "You?"

"I think your bed is comfier than mine."

"Sorry," Harry says. He rolls onto his back and yawns again.

"And I think yours might be nicer because you're in it," Draco says. Harry turns his head back to face Draco and grins.

"I'm quite irresistible, aren't I?"

"Oh the modesty," Draco says, shaking his head. He stretches his head from side to side and rolls his shoulders a couple of times before sitting up. "I'm going to head back to my room to get dressed. Meet you downstairs for breakfast?"

"And by breakfast you mean coffee?"

"Exactly." Harry nods once in agreement and then closes his eyes again. Draco disentangles his legs and slides out from under the sheets. He looks around quickly for his underwear, but it's a fruitless search, so he saunters out into the hallway naked, grateful for the fact that none of the others are arriving until later in the day.

"Nice arse," Harry calls behind him and Draco smirks to himself but doesn't turn around, an act which takes all of his self control.

…

Harry beats Draco down to the kitchen, just as he has most mornings. Draco's not sure how he does it because he's clearly also showered. His hair is wet and Draco can smell the soap on Harry's skin when he walks past him to collect his mug of tea.

"Thank you for the tea," Draco says. He sits down at his usual spot at the table and Harry takes the seat diagonally next to his.

"You're welcome," Harry says. He props one elbow on the table and rests his head on his hand.

They sit this way for a long, peaceful while, waking up slowly. Draco almost doesn't dare look at Harry. He's scared that if he does, the illusion will somehow shatter and he'll realize that yesterday was just a dream. Because every time he looks at Harry he seems too perfect. He's not, of course — his hair's a crow's nest of tangles and his glasses are atrocious, to say nothing of his fashion sense. But still, he's perfect.

"Knut for your thoughts," Harry says, breaking into Draco's reverie. Draco looks up to see Harry staring at him, his eyes bright and inquisitive.

"Just thinking about all the things we have to do before people arrive," Draco says. And it's not a lie, because even while he'd been thinking about Harry, he'd been making a list of tasks in the back of his mind. "We did get a bit distracted last night. I'd intended to check on the pool room before going to bed." Harry grins at him.

"I'm not complaining," he says. He lifts his coffee mug to his mouth and takes a large sip.

"Concentrate, Potter. We have seven people descending on the house in a few hours." Harry screws up his face in irritation.

"I'd rather think about other things," Harry says. The worst part is that Draco wants to as well. He wants to rip all of Harry's clothes off of him again and bend him over the table they're sitting at now. Oh, Merlin, how he wants that.

But first, they need to make sure everything is ready.

"I need to finish up the pool room," Draco says. "The potion should have finished yesterday, so it's just a matter of taking out the cauldron and making sure it's worked properly. I assume the rooms are all ready for the guests?"

"All we need to do now is put the cat flaps on the doors."

"The cat flaps?" Draco asks, confused.

"So that we can get food to them."

"Would we not do that with magic?" Draco asks. "House elves manage it, so how hard could it be?"

"Right, yes," Harry says. "Of course. That would be the better way of doing it."

"What made you think of cat flaps?" Harry's mouth falls open and then he snaps it shut.

"Nothing," he says too quickly for Draco to think it is really nothing. He stares at Harry, slowly raising his eyebrows higher and higher as he holds his gaze.

"The Dursleys did that with me one summer," Harry finally mumbles.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Um."

"You were given food via a cat flap?"

"Only for a summer. And Ron rescued me anyway."

"Weasley had to rescue you? What the actual fuck, Harry? How were these people never reported to child services?" Draco stands up, almost without realizing it, and starts to pace the kitchen in agitation. "Did you never tell any of the teachers? Why were you allowed to stay in this awful environment? I'm sure there were hundreds of wizarding families who would have taken you in. Hell, my mother would have taken you in if she'd thought it would raise our status in society."

"Dumbledore said it was the safest place for me to be," Harry says quietly. He's staring into his coffee mug now, unable to meet Draco's eye. "There was some sort of special magic, which kept me safe there." Draco takes a deep breath and tries to quell his anger.

"There would have been other ways to keep you safe," he says softly. "Ones that didn't involve you being fed through a fucking cat flap." He sighs and walks back to his seat, willing himself to calm down, because if he doesn't he might just go out and murder Harry's relatives right now. Harry's eyes are still on his coffee mug. Draco reaches out and cups his cheek. Harry's eyes flick up to him.

"I'm sorry that you had such a shit childhood. And I'm sorry that I must have made it worse." Draco steels himself, prepared for rejection, then leans forward and kisses Harry gently on the mouth. Then he pulls away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to—" But then Harry's lips are meeting his again, more insistently, and Draco supposes that answers the question of where do they go from here. At least partly. But Draco wants to be sure. He pulls away.

"So, is this a thing that's happening?" he asks.

"What?"

"The kissing. The you and me." He gestures between them. "The you know."

"Are you asking me out?" Harry asks. He's got a sly grin on his face that makes Draco's stomach do a small flip.

"Only if you want me to."

"Yeah, alright then."

"Is that a yes you would like to be asked, or a yes you'll go out with me."

"The latter."

"Cool," he says. Then he leans over and presses his lips to Harry's again, relishing the bitter taste of the coffee on Harry's mouth. Harry tries to take it further, but Draco shakes his head.

"We have things to do first," he says. He holds up a hand and starts counting off tasks on his fingers "The pool room, double check the bedrooms, figure out how best to feed people." Harry makes a disgruntled face. "Then I suppose all we have to do after that is wait for people to arrive, so you can go back to kissing me then."

"Fine," Harry says. "Though we don't have much time. Ron and Percy are due in first, around eleven." Draco sighs dramatically. That only gives them a couple of hours.

"I still can't believe you let the older Weasley come too."

"Oh, come off it," Harry says. "He's not that bad."

"He's a horn-rimmed glasses wearing terror," Draco declares. But Harry just rolls his eyes.

…

"This is incredible," Harry says. He'd followed Draco to the pool room after breakfast so that he could see how well the potion had worked for himself. "I can't believe how beautiful it is."

Draco has to agree. The potion has done its work and pool room is immaculate. But more than that: it's gorgeous. The bottom of the pool is tiled with a blue mosaic, inlaid with gold accents, and the blue tile extends all the way up the walls of the room and onto the domed ceiling, where the gold accents are congregated in what Draco recognizes as star constellations. There's a dark smudge over the area Draco recognizes would be the Sirius star. Draco feels a flash of rage towards Walburga Black, who not only had destroyed what would otherwise be the grandest Black family tapestry Draco had seen, but had also been so spiteful towards her son that she had besmirched the most beautiful room in the house. He almost wishes Harry had burnt her painting.

"Shall we see if the taps work?" Draco asks, indicating the row of taps at the side of the pool, each of them topped with a different colored jewel.

"Do you think it's like the prefect's bathroom?" Harry asks. "In that it needs to be filled each time it's used?"

"I think it's exactly like the prefect's bathroom," Draco says. "Look at all of those."

"Brilliant," Harry says and hurries over to them. Before Draco can think to say anything, Harry's turning all of them on at once. And suddenly Draco's transported back to fifth year, when he and Pansy had gone to the prefect's bathroom for the first time. Draco had been nervous, but Pansy'd been her usual fearless self. She'd marched up to the row of faucets and turned them all on, one by one, so they could see what each one did, while Draco had held back, clutching his towel to him like it was a child's safety blanket.

He brings himself back to the present, watching as the taps fill the pool with various bubbles and scents. It was a mistake to let Harry turn them on. Because now that the pool is filling up, Draco wants nothing more than to get in it and to take Harry with him. When he looks at Harry, he can tell that the other man is thinking the same thing. It's something in the smirk he's wearing.

"No," he makes himself say. "We can come here at the end of the day. I promise. But we can't be in the swimming pool when people start arriving. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't want to greet people wearing my swimming costume." Or naked, he thinks but doesn't say. Harry sighs dramatically and starts turning the taps off.

"Fine," he says like it's the worst thing in the world.

"Later," Draco promises.

"When they're all locked in their rooms and can't disturb us?"

"Something like that," Draco says, grinning.