Three years earlier

Harry waited impatiently at the bar, and wished for once that being the 'Chosen One' had any measurable benefits at all.

Tonight marked the end of the first week of training for the new intake of Aurors. For many of them, fresh out of Hogwarts, the 'real world' of work was proving to be a shock.

"Harry!" Sally-Anne yelled over the loud music. He smiled back at his colleague. "I've come to help you remember the drinks—Draco says you'll be hopeless!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "How charming," he shouted.

She leaned in to shout a little quieter in his ear. "He fancies you, you know."

He narrowed his eyes sceptically. "Really?" Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't think so."

"He does! Do you like him back?"

Harry spluttered. He didn't know what to say. "He's Malfoy."

"Very fit."

"Well—yes, but—"

"Who's next?" the barman called. Harry was inordinately grateful and ordered their fourth round. Without Sally-Anne's help.

They headed back to their seats in the corner of Black Magic, the new upscale wizarding nightclub. Draco laughed at Mary's joke, head thrown back, a carefree smile lighting up his face.

Gorgeous.

"So. You and Harry."

He creased his brow. "There is no 'me and Harry'," he drawled, forming quotation marks with his fingers, and puffing on his wizarding cigarette. Plumes of purple smoke engulfed them.

Sal leaned back against the wall and wrapped her leather jacket tighter against the chill. "He fancies you. Do you like him back?"

Draco lifted his chin. "He does? Says who?"

"He told me."

He snorted and said, "I see." Draco stubbed out his cigarette. "I'm going home. See you on Monday morning." He returned to the club to find the main exit. Heavy bass vibrated his feet. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Though he couldn't spot his colleagues, he somehow met Potter's gaze—he must have been watching the door.

His eyes were glistening, face pink from dancing.

Draco shouldered through the crowd to Harry. Time to put him to the test.

He leaned down to thunder in his ear. "Anyone catch your eye, Potter?"

Though it was dark in the club, Potter blushed pillar box red.

Interesting.

Someone in the crowd stepped backwards, and Potter stumbled into his chest. "Are you drunk?" he laughed, looping his arms around Harry.

"I've had too much, and not enough…for this."

For this.

His head spun as they started to dance. Potter's T-shirt felt damp with perspiration under his fingers, splayed over his back to guide their dancing. They easily followed the beat of the music. Draco tentatively lowered his hands onto Potter's arse.

This wasn't dancing. It was sex with clothes on.

The crowd encased them and paid them no heed. Potter hard against him, his nose buried in Draco's neck, arms curled around his waist. He breathed Potter in—grapefruit and sandalwood aftershave, sweat, and something distinctively Harry.

This was interesting.

This was what madness felt like.

Harry's face tilted up, and Draco's tilted down. They looked at each other's lips as they writhed against each other in time to the music.

The song changed from Strong Enough by Cher to Enrique's Bailamos which snapped them out of their reverie.

"This is a bad idea," Potter shouted. "We shouldn't do this." He traced the edge of Draco's ear with his tongue, who shivered and hauled him in closer.

"Invite me home!" he replied.

Potter didn't hesitate. He tugged him off the dancefloor towards the exit. Clasping Draco's wrist, he concentrated. Everything went black; he was being pressed hard from all directions; he couldn't breathe; iron bands tightened around his chest; his eardrums were being forced deeper into his skull and then—

They gulped great lungfuls of air and opened streaming eyes, stumbling as they drunkenly landed in Potter's flat.

He chuckled, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. "Warn me, next time."

Potter pushed him back against his front door. "This is wrong. We could be sacked. Could we be sacked?"

They stood far too closely together. Harry's breath smelt of rum. He had beautiful eyelashes. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but he declared, "I won't kiss and tell."

Potter seemed to process this idea whilst tracing the outline of Draco's cock with his forefinger. "I don't do things like this. We shouldn't." He shook his head. "We hate each other."

He said nothing, and carefully charted Harry's lips with his thumb. Harry's tongue poked out, encircled it, and sucked it into his hot wet mouth. His nostrils flared as he stared at Harry's lips, transfixed.

Pulling his thumb free, he crushed their bodies and lips together.

Magic.

They ground against each other and kissed passionately, deeply, forcefully, like teenagers in a dark alcove. Draco pulled back and gasped, "you drive me crazy."

Harry bucked his hips into Draco's, and they rocked together.

The world narrowed. He was dizzy.

It was quick. Urgent. Not how he'd imagined their first time. His breath hissed in Harry's ear, who once again buried his face in his neck. Draco's hips shuddered in a staccato beat, and his head thunked against the door. Harry latched onto his neck, sucking and biting. It was too much. Draco came in his trousers with a low groan, juddering against Harry's hard groin. "Oh."

His eyes refocussed on Harry's. They were wide with pride and pleasure. When he undid Harry's belt and unzipped him to grasp his aching cock, Harry's mouth fell open in awe. Harry braced his hands on Draco's shoulders.

He didn't last long.

Pressing his lips to Draco's, he came, low in his throat, shuddering into Draco's hand. He tenderly stroked him until Potter stilled, slumped onto Draco's chest.

Potter straightened up. "We shouldn't do this again," he said, pulling Draco's hand to his mouth, and tasting him clean.

Taking him by the chin, Potter kissed him softly. He tasted Harry's bitter come.

"Goodnight then, Potter."

Potter couldn't look him in the eye as he pulled up his trousers and underwear. "Goodbye."

The door gently closed behind him.