Happy Valentine's Day!


"Major," Harry says as he opens the door. Parkinson is standing on his stoop and he ushers her quickly inside.

"Potter," she acknowledges as the door closes behind her. "Nice place you have." She looks around the entrance hallway appreciatively. Harry nods stiffly and leads her into the sitting room, where he left Malfoy.

The blond has pulled his legs up on the couch in a criss cross in front of him in the time Harry has been gone, but other than that, he is right where Harry left him. He looks up as they enter and nods at Parkinson. After acknowledging him, she sits down on one of the two armchairs. Harry retakes his seat next to Malfoy.

"Where were we?" Parkinson asks.

"Someone stole a book?" Malfoy hazards.

"Oliver Wood." Parkinson practically spits out the name.

"And I read it, which seemingly was the wrong thing to do." At this, Parkinson gives a short, humorless laugh.

"It was probably not what we would have preferred you do," Harry says. Parkinson shoots him a quick glance and then returns her attention to Malfoy.

"Can someone explain to me what this book was?" he asks. "And why it's such a big deal? And why I seem to know random shit that I didn't before?"

"Did you want to take this?" Parkinson asks Harry. He considers for a moment and then shakes his head.

"You know more about it than I do," he says. She gives him a quick nod and then sits up straighter in her chair.

"For the past six months," she says. "Every department in the Ministry, and a few foreign agencies, gave information to The Reliquary. Unorganized secrets, just off the wire and a decent number of archived secrets. The magic behind it works as a brain, sorting the information and finding patterns in the chatter. Using all the data it is able to piece together things we haven't and it can give us a bit of forewarning. How it does that, I'm not exactly sure - no one gave me those details.

"But one thing is fore sure: it was never intended for civilian use. In fact, I'm not even sure quite what it was meant for as it was stolen before it was ever actually put into use."

"And now I've read it," Malfoy says softly.

"Yes, you have. And now all those secrets and all that data are in your head."

"Well that explains Mottić," Malfoy mutters almost too quietly for Harry to hear. Harry perks up.

"What about Mottić?" he asks. Harry knows that the Croatian diplomat is in London, but it seems Malfoy, or more accurately The Reliquary inside of Malfoy's head, knows something he doesn't.

"Nothing," Malfoy says. He looks up from his whiskey glass. "I just saw a picture of him in this morning's Prophet and knew everything about him. It was unnerving." Harry lets out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"Look," he says. "I know that this must be a bit of a shock to the system," he says and Malfoy scoffs. "And I'm sorry that you have gotten caught up in this, but we're going to have to bring you in to the Ministry so that the higher ups can figure out what to do with you." Malfoy's mouth twists into a grimace and he taps his thumb nervously on the side of his glass. Harry looks up at Parkinson who is frowning at Malfoy. When she feels Harry's gaze on her, she looks up and catches his eye. She purses her lips together briefly and the begins to speak again.

"That's not the only thing," she says. "I know you think I came into that restaurant wands blazing-"

"-Well, you did," Harry interjects. She shoots him a glare.

"Fine, I did, but it was only because there was an incoming hostile and I wanted to protect his sorry arse." She jabs a thumb at Malfoy. Harry's breath catches. How had he missed that threat? If Parkinson notices his alarm, she doesn't comment on it. "I neutralized the man while you two ran out the back. The DMLEHS should have picked him up by now."

"Tell me exactly what happened," Harry says. She sighs.

"I was watching you two from the street. You both looked adorable by the way." Harry is suddenly very aware of how close he is sitting to Malfoy. Is it too close? Suspiciously close? Would Parkinson figure out that they had been kissing before she arrived? Even if it had been for all of two seconds.

"And then after about an hour, a different waiter emerged from the kitchen, only he was wasn't carrying food. He had a Confuso-bomb and a Portable Swamp." Harry raises his eyebrows. "Yes, I know, classic kidnapping materials."

"I'm sorry," Malfoy cuts in. "Kidnapping? With a Portable Swamp?"

"It's quite common these days," Parkinson explains in a bored voiced. "Confuso-bomb takes you unawares and then you get stuck in the boggy parts of the Portable Swamp when you try to stagger away. Even if you don't get stuck fast, you are slowed down. Then someone comes in with a Stunner. And one, two, three and Bob's your uncle." She makes a gesture with her hands to indicate tying someone up. Malfoy looks mollified.

"I've tried to get Ron to discontinue those swamps," Harry says. "But George insists on keeping them. You know, because Fred invented them." He is not sure that either of them know what he is talking about, but neither of them say anything. After a long enough silence has passed for it to become awkward, Parkinson nods and continues.

"So I acted immediately. I'm sure General Dempsey won't be pleased that I made such a mess, but I had to protect Draco." She shrugs. "I would have gotten the guy in the first shot if your shield hadn't gone up so fast, Potter." But she smirks to let Harry know that she's not overly annoyed."Kudos to you for your reflexes." He gives her a small, tight lipped smile.

"But why would they come after me?" Malfoy asks. Harry thinks that he looks more pale than usual.

"That is a good question," Parkinson says. "And one that I do not know the answer to. Potter, how good are your security wards?"

"I'm offended you would even ask."

"I'm going to add a couple more. Draco, you're going to stay here tonight."

"But-" Malfoy begins to protest, but Parkinson shakes her head sharply at him and he quiets.

She pulls out her wand and walks into the hallway. Harry thinks perhaps he should have put up more of a fight about the situation, but he knows the Major is right. This is the safest place right now. They can bring Malfoy in to the Ministry in the morning.

He turns to look at Malfoy, concerned that they have thrust too much information on him in one go. The blond is staring into the middle distance, eyes glassy, still clutching his now empty whiskey glass.

"Would you like some more?" Harry asks, gesturing to the glass. Malfoy shrugs.

"Possibly." Harry stands and walks over to the bar. He puts a hand against the wall as casually as he can so that he can feel what protection Parkinson is adding to the house. He frowns when he does not recognize the ward she is using and goes back to getting Malfoy some more to drink. He pulls the bottle out of its resting place and carries it over to the couch. He has the feeling they might be needing it again.

"Someone has a heat tracking spell on your house, Potter," Parkinson says as she walks back into the room.

"Sorry, what?" Harry asks. He looks around the room as if whomever has placed it there might be hiding behind some furniture. Parkinson shrugs.

"I couldn't tell where it was coming from, so I didn't disable it in case it raised any flags." She sits back down in the armchair. "Or in case it was your spell," she adds, almost as an afterthought.

"What does that mean?" Malfoy asks.

"Well, someone wants to know when people move about this house, when they come and go, what room they're in. That kind of thing."

"I'm never leaving." Malfoy pulls his knees up in front of him and wraps his arms around them. "Nothing is safe."

"Perhaps," Harry says as the thought occurs to him. "Someone is trying to figure out if we're on a real date." Parkinson frowns at him. Now that she has put up her own security wards, she seems more relaxed and so has pulled her feet up under her on the chair.

"Why would they care?" Parkinson asks.

"Why would they try to kidnap either of us?" Harry asks, sitting up straighter, convinced that he's figured it out. "I will confess, it's not the first time someone has tried to kidnap me and make me fall in love with them." Both Malfoy and Parkinson stare at him, eyes bulging. "What? I'm Savior of the Wizarding World and all that." Malfoy snorts. Parkinson looks over at the blond, catches his eye and smirks at him.

"Isn't that why you went on the date, Draco?" she asks sweetly.

"Hell no," Malfoy says. "I agreed to go on this date because Potter's decently attractive and he asked me out." Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise before he can stop himself and his pulses races unexpectedly. Parkinson eyes Harry critically for a moment and then shrugs.

"Eh, he's not my type," she says. She begins to study her nails in disinterest.

"So he's not Marcus Belby then?" Malfoy asks. Parkinson looks up in surprise, her mouth in a small O. Malfoy chuckles to himself.

"How-?" she starts to ask.

"Oh, Pans," Malfoy says, reaching over to pat her on the hand. "It was painfully obvious. All those longing glances over at the Ravenclaw table…" he trails off.

"Fine," she says after a moment. "If we're going to bring up school day crushes," she pauses, sitting up straighter in the chair again. She takes a deep breath and Harry thinks she has been steeling herself to say this to Malfoy for a long time. "You know, if you had just kept your eye on the snitch instead of on Potter during Quidditch games, we just might have won more of them."

Draco's mouth drops open in surprise and he feels blood rise in his cheeks. Of all the crushes he had thought Pansy might bring up, this was not the one he had expected. He had been unaware that anyone had even known he'd even liked Potter back at school. Or, more accurately, lusted after him. (In all of his teenage fantasies, they had fortuitously run into each other in some place like the Quidditch showers and had angry, hate sex and then never spoken again.)

And the fact that she had the gall to bring it up in front of Potter himself! Even if they are on a date. Or a fake date. Draco is no longer sure what this evening counts as. But either way, to Pansy's eyes, this was a mission of Potter's. Why would she bring it up? It is so Slytherin of her.

He risks a glance at Potter. The brunet looks as though he is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Yeah? Well, you were dying to fuck Cormac McLaggen," Draco snaps. Potter lets out the laugh he has so clearly been holding in.

"That arsehole?" he asks. Pansy crosses her arms and stares daggers at Draco. Then she turns to Potter and says,

"Emphasis on the past tense, Potter. That arsehole, as you so eloquently put it, tried to ask me out on the first week of Hit Wizard training. He was under the impression that as one of the only women on the squad, I would, of course, be panting to go out with any of my fellow Hit Wizards - you know, that being the only reason I joined up," she pauses long enough to roll her eyes. "So I punched him in the face and broke his nose in front of the entire squad." Potter grins.

"Nice one," he says. Pansy allows herself a small smile.

"Yes, well, he's still an arse and I still have to work with him, but I outrank him now." She gives a small shrug of her shoulders as if to say that she is done talking about McLaggen. Draco is almost sorry that he brought it up, until he remembers what caused him to blurt it out in the first place.

"So people routinely try to make you fall in love with them?" he asks Potter. The other man at least has the grace to look sheepish.

"Yes," he says. "It had stopped for a while because I was in a relationship." He pauses, looking uncomfortable. "But, uh, that ended."

"So you're concerned someone would try again now that you're 'back on the market' so to speak?" Pansy asks. Potter nods. Pansy frowns at him and chews her lip thoughtfully. "I've heard of crazier things. It would explain why someone had a tracker on your house and not Draco's. Although, I haven't checked Draco's."

"It's clean," Potter says.

"You spied on my house?" Draco asks. For some reason this, more than anything else, is what feels most like a betrayal.

"It's my job," Potter says quickly, but he looks flustered.

"And yet you don't check you own wards?" Pansy asks slowly. Draco is grateful that she is there to voice the questions he wants to, but wouldn't dare ask. He looks sideways at Potter whose mouth is now a tight line. Potter takes a deep breath in through his nose.

"I checked them this morning," he says, his shoulders tense, his eyes blazing. "I should have checked them the moment we walked in the door, but I was a little distracted. You know, making sure that Malfoy was alright." Pansy nods, lips pursed.

"Still sloppy," she mutters, looking away.

"I know," Potter spits out. He takes a pair of deep breaths. "But now it seems we're stuck with it until the morning."

"Why the morning?" Draco asks.

"Well, if someone is watching," Pansy says. "It might seem odd that their spell has been discovered so long after you both arrived. I imagine the general public is unaware that Agent Potter is in fact an Unspeakable and so would not expect him to be overly paranoid."

"Just normal paranoid?" Draco asks.

"Yes," she continues. "They might think he would notice the spell when he relaxed his wards upon arriving home, but since that moment has passed, I'm sure whomever cast it is pleased that it has slipped past his notice." Draco frowns. On the one hand he thinks this makes sense, but on the other hand, he thinks the pair of them are far too paranoid with all their second guessing.

But then, Draco is not a spy. For all he knows, this is how all spies think. He makes a mental note to double check his wards when he gets home If they ever let him go home. And then, suddenly, going home is all he wants to do.

"I think you're both being ridiculous," he says. He is feeling emboldened by the whisky. "I will not be staying. You can come and take me to the Ministry in the morning if you must." He puts his glass down decisively on the side table and tries to stand but is impeded by both the soft sofa cushions and his not insignificant level of intoxication. Potter puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down.

"You will be staying," he says firmly.

"And you will be staying in his bed," Pansy adds. Draco shakes his head.

"I told you," Draco protests. "Not on the first date." Pansy snorts in amusement and Draco allows himself to be pushed back into the couch cushions. He crosses his arms and scowls at both of them.

"You'll be safest there," Pansy says. "And it has the bonus of adding legitimacy to your date if that is in fact what the heat tracking spell is for."

"But then what are you here for? What does the heat tracking spell say about you?"

"That I came by for a drink and then fell asleep on your couch."

"In which case," Potter says. "Would you like a drink?" Pansy reaches up and scratches her head, nestling back further in her chair.

"Fuck it," she says. "What do you have?"

Part of Pansy thinks she should not have a drink, but a much larger part of her thinks she's had a bitch of a night and that she deserves it. She's checked Potter's wards. They're solid and she's added a few of her own. Did she make up the heat tracking spell to fuck with Draco? Maybe. But they weren't so uncommon that Potter wouldn't have known what to do about it. It was just an added bonus that Potter's clearly had kidnapping threats before, which makes him just that added touch more paranoid. Plus, after the McLaggen comment, Draco had earned being fucked with.

She was curious to know who Potter had been dating so recently before he'd asked Draco out, but she is not about to ask. It is none of her business. She does not subscribe to any of those Witch Weekly magazines, but she'll flick through one if there's a copy at the hairdresser. She seems to recall that he had dated the female Weasley right out of school, but he has mostly stayed clear of the gossip pages since then. She is actually almost amazed that she cannot name who the most famous wizard in the world is dating. Grudgingly, she finds has a new modicum of respect for Potter.

It still does not explain how he ended up as an Unspeakable though. She would love to pick Croaker's brain on that decision, but it is not her place. She has never heard Dempsey, nor any of the other higher ups, complain about his work, so he must hide his goings on from the public somehow. Or perhaps he uses his celebrity to get into places that might be otherwise off limits to the public. Either way, that is none of her concern at the moment.

"Whisky, vodka, gin, tequila." Potter breaks into her thoughts by listing off the contents of his bar.

"Whatever he's having," she says, pointing to Draco. Potter nods and brings over a glass. He picks up the bottle of whisky that is sitting on the coffee table in front of them and pours her a large splash. "Ta." She takes a sip and nods appreciatively. Potter has good taste.

They sit in silence for a while, each of them lost in their thoughts and their whisky glasses. Finally Pansy asks,

"Did you know the Reliquary was from him?" Draco blinks and frowns at her. "Did you know it was from Wood?"

"Yes," he says quietly.

"How?" Draco says nothing just points to the watch on his wrist. "How did you know that was his?" She watches as a flush creeps up his face. He takes a deep breath.

"We dated," he says, so quietly that Pansy almost doesn't hear it.

"So you were in on it?" She sits up straighter and her hand inches towards her wand holster. Draco shakes his head.

"That was years ago. I hadn't heard from him in," he pauses, a small frown on his face. "Well, since he quit United." Pansy nods. She remembers that it was quite the news story several years ago.

"So why did you read it then?" she asks. Draco shrugs.

"It was a book," he says by way of explanation. And Pansy understands, because he's Draco and of course he would read it. He loves books. The number of times she had roused him at the end of the evening in the Slytherin Common Room because he had fallen asleep in front of the fire reading. An unexpected feeling of warmth blossoms in her chest. She had forgotten how fond of the idiot she was. Or, had been, before sixth year.

"Right, yes. Draco and books," she says. "How could I forget?" Potter perks up at this.

"Draco was secretly a nerd?" he asks, glee obvious in his tone. Pansy narrows her eyes at the brunet.

"Potter," she says. "You were best friends with Granger. How do you get off calling people nerds?" Potter at least has the grace to look ashamed.

"Fair point," he concedes. "But then why were you so mean to her in school?" Pansy stifles a laugh. Is Potter really that dense?

"Because she was smarter than he was," she says. Draco frowns at her, but she knows she is right.

"My father used to give me a hard time about it," he mutters, crossing his arms and glowering at the coffee table.

"You still got better grades than Potter," she points out.

"Like that was hard," Draco says and now it's Potter's turn to get offended, which he predictably does, scowling at the both of them and muttering something that Pansy can't catch.

"What's Granger up to these days anyway?" Draco asks, changing the subject.

"She's the Deputy Head of our department," Pansy says.

"The whole department," Potter adds. "Which means she's in charge of both of us." He looks less thrilled with this than Pansy would have expected.

"I see," Draco says. He leans forward, reaching for the whisky bottle before he seemingly changes his mind and instead slumps back into the sofa cushions. He places his empty glass on the side table and then reaches up to massage his temples.

"You look tired," Pansy says. Draco drops his hands back into his lap.

"I am tired," he says. "I was up most of the night reading that damn book." Pansy arches an eyebrow at him. "Trust me, if I could have stopped reading, I would have. But it wouldn't let me stop until I had read the whole thing." Pansy rolls her eyes at him. She still can't believe he is the person who has read The Reliquary. Not for the first that day time she wishes that she had gotten to Wood faster. She takes a large swig of her whisky as the image of his face, wand flashing at his temple, crosses her mind. Fuck. And it turns out Draco had dated him.

"Perhaps we should go to bed then," Potter says. Draco turns to look at him. "And I swear I just mean bed." But Pansy can see that Draco is too tired to even contemplate any sort of witty response. Instead, the blond just nods and starts to drag himself upright.

"G'night, Pans'," Draco all but slurs at her.

"Are you sure you're alright here?" Potter asks Pansy. "I have a spare bedroom downstairs if you'd prefer." She nods and he reaches to put the whisky away. She puts a hand out to stop him.

"Can you leave that?" she asks. He looks at her for a long moment before nodding and following Draco out of the sitting room. She bizarrely wants to apologize to Potter. She wants to tell him that Wood's death wasn't her fault, that he had been the one in the wrong, but she knows now is not the time. She knows they will have that fight at some point and it is part of the reason she wants some more whisky before she closes her eyes for the night.

As the sitting room door closes behind her, she suddenly feels incredibly alone.

"So, uh, this is my bedroom," Potter says, once he and Draco have made their way up the stairs. The bed is unmade, duvet spilling half onto the floor and a pile of pillows to the side. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Clearly." But Draco is too tired to care. He frowns in annoyance that he does not have a toothbrush, nor any of his nightly face creams, but he supposes one night without them won't be the end of the world. There is an ensuite bathroom and Potter gestures towards it.

Draco takes the hint and goes about getting ready for bed as best he can, using his wand and a clumsy teeth cleaning spell in place of his toothbrush. He can't help but look around the bathroom as he washes his hands. It has clearly been a bathroom for two quite recently. There are two sets of toiletries at the two sinks. And again, Draco feels oddly betrayed.

Potter had said he was newly single, but Draco hadn't expected it to be this recent. But then, their date wasn't real. Or it was real in that they had kissed, but it wasn't in that Potter had asked him out under false pretenses. He doesn't know where he stands with the brunet at this point. And right now, it doesn't fucking matter anyway because Pansy is downstairs. She was always so good at cockblocking.

Draco splashes water on his face in lieu of washing it properly and picks up a towel to dry off. This towel most definitely has someone's cologne on it. But it is not the spicy sweetness of Potter's cologne. No, this scent tickles his memory and makes his stomach lurch. He lowers the towel and lifts Oliver's watch to his nose. And his heart sinks.

He tries to tell himself that many people probably use this brand of cologne, that it could be anyone. But somehow he knows it was Oliver. And suddenly Potter's motives seem all too clear.

He throws the towel down into the sink and storms back out into the bedroom. Potter looks up in surprise from where he is lounging on the bed.

"Oliver Wood was the boyfriend who just broke up with you?" He does not raise his voice because he doesn't want Pansy to hear, but he makes sure to sound angry nonetheless, his voice barely above a hiss. Potter gapes at him, blinking rapidly.

"How?" he splutters. Draco stalks back into the bathroom, picks up the towel and then flings it at Potter.

"This," he spits. "You haven't even done the fucking laundry yet. His towels still smell like him, you arsehole."

"You still remember what he smells like?" Potter seems genuinely surprised. Draco's shoulders slump as the fight goes out of him. He nods. "After all this time?"

"Yes, after all this fucking time." There is a bench at the end of the bed, onto which Potter has moved the spare pillows. Draco sinks down onto it, spilling pillows onto the floor.

"Oh," is all that Potter says. Draco pulls his knees up onto the bench and wraps his arms around them.

"So, the only reason you asked me out was to figure out why he didn't send that damn book to you."

"Malfoy, I told you that. It's my job to-"

"-But it was more than that. Wasn't it?" He turns to glare at Potter, his eyes filling with tears which he angrily blinks away. He should not be this upset, but he has had far too much to drink this evening and his emotions are fried, what with Oliver's watch reminding him anew that they're no longer together. And that they haven't been for years. He is no longer sure why he put it on this morning. It was stupid.

"No," Potter says softly. "Oliver." He pauses for a long moment. "Oliver is gone."

"And I'm what? A rebound who happens to conveniently be part of your case?"

"No."

"Stop fucking lying to me." Potter sighs deeply and then swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. He walks over to where Draco is sitting and sits down beside him. He tries to take Draco's hand, but Draco snatches it away.

"OK, fine. You want the truth?" Draco nods. "The truth is, I don't know what's going on. Did I ask you out as part of my mission to find The Reliquary? Yes. Am I newly single and do we share the same ex-boyfriend? Also yes. But I swear to god that has nothing to do with how I'm feeling now. Which, granted, is conflicted. I like you and would like to keep seeing you, rebound, or mission be damned. But I can't. You're an asset now, or at least, I'm pretty sure you will be once we take you in tomorrow. And someone else will be assigned as your handler and I won't be able to see you any more. Perhaps I leapt at the opportunity to ask you out because I was recently heartbroken. I don't know. Either way, here we are." Draco blinks slowly at Potter, trying to untangle everything he just said.

"Are all your relationships this complicated, Potter?" Draco asks. Potter gives a sharp bark of unamused laughter.

"No, but you've always been special."

"Special?"

"Especially annoying." Draco twists his mouth in disbelief and narrows his eyes at Potter.

"Sure." And then before Draco can say anything else, Potter's mouth crashes into his. As his lips part in surprise, he feels Potter's tongue slip inside and he tentatively reaches out with his own tongue to meet it. But then Potter's tongue slides away to run along the inside of Draco's upper lip and Draco gasps at how lovely that feels. And then, just as Draco is starting to get into the kiss, Potter pulls away.

"No,"he says. "Sorry. I can't. I shouldn't."

"Because of Oliver?"

"No, because it's unprofessional. You're an asset and-"

"-And you made it sound like this could never happen again."

"Exactly," Potter seems relieved that Draco understands what he is trying to say.

"So, you're saying that we should take advantage of now, before we run out of chances?" Draco is rewarded by Potter's eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Uh," he says. Draco smirks at him.

"I was lying earlier," he says. Confusion fills Potter's eyes.

"About what?"

"I was lying when I said that I don't fuck on the first date." Potter's mouth falls open in a small o and Draco takes advantage of this, tangling his fingers into Potter's messy hair and pulling him back into a kiss. If tonight is going to be his only opportunity for any of his teenage fantasies to come true, he sure as fuck is not going to waste the chance. Rebound or not, mission or not, he wants Potter in his bed, just this once. In fact, even more so since it can only be this once - there won't be any messy relationship to deal with later. It will be just like his teenage fantasies: they'll sleep together and then never speak again.

Potter, after a moment's hesitation, reciprocates. And soon Draco feels insistent hands pawing at his shirt buttons. He reaches up and undoes the top few before pulling the shirt over his head in one swift movement. Potter blinks in surprise and Draco takes that moment to take him by the hand and lead him to the bed. He blushes as he watches Potter's eyes sweep over his naked torso and he tries to fight off his self consciousness. He lifts his arms and tries to disrobe Potter to give himself something to do with his hands, but the other man bats him away. Draco frowns then watches with comprehension as Potter quickly unhooks each button with surprising adroitness.

"'S faster," Potter mutters before dropping the shirt to the floor. He grabs at Draco's waist and pulls them back together again. And then they are falling on the bed, pressing hard against each other. Draco throws his head back as Potter trails a line of kisses down his neck, his mouth hot against Draco's skin. And it is everything that he could have imagined and more. He wants to just drink this moment in.

Potter's hands are roaming over his chest, slowly inching their way downwards so Draco decides to take charge of the situation, reaching down swiftly to deal with Potter's belt buckle. He hears Potter's sharp intake of breath and Draco's pulse, which was already racing, picks up even more. Potter's hips buck against his and he can feel Potter's arousal through the linen of his trousers.

Fuck it, he thinks and undoes the top button of Potter's trousers. Potter turns his head and gently nibbles Draco's earlobe. And Circe, Draco didn't know that could feel so good. Clearly, living out one's teenage fantasies is something he should have done years ago.

He fumbles Potter's trousers down to his thighs and Potter takes the opportunity to bite down hard on Draco's shoulder. Draco hisses in surprise and pulls back. And then he feels Potter's hands on his own waistband, fumbling with the clasp. In a moment, his trousers are down too, and then the only thing separating the two of them is the thin fabric of their underwear. Draco's whole body is heady with anticipation and he knows he won't last long once things really get going.

He weaves the fingers of his right hand back into Potter's hair and pulls their mouths back together and then reaches down the back of Potter's underwear with his other hand. And then, before he can quite comprehend what is happening, his boxers are around his knees and Potter's hand is on him and he is crying out in pleasure and spending himself all over Potter's stomach.

"Fuck," he says, pressing his forehead into Potter's shoulder. "Sorry." Potter lifts his face up by his chin until they are staring each other in the eye.

"It's fine," he says and kisses Draco again. Draco pulls away.

"I should clean that up," he stammers. Potter shakes his head and holds his arm out. His wand flies into his hand and he waves it over the two of them, cleaning them with a quietly muttered charm. Then he smiles and cups Draco's head in his hands and goes right back to kissing him. And Draco realizes that he's not going to get much sleep that night and Merlin is that alright with him.


I'm so sorry this is so terribly late. My beta reader has been so busy that I gave up waiting in the end. So if there are huge glaring errors, you can blame me.