Summary: In the third year of the war, Draco is discovered as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Snape brings him to Grimmauld Place for safety. But months of being locked in a house with Potter take their toll, and soon both boys are in over their heads.
Pairing: Harry/Draco. If you don't like it, don't read it.
Warnings: Sexual content. Language.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything affiliated with his world belong to J.K. Rowling.
Betaed by YaoiFanGirl101
Draco came down to the kitchen sometime after midnight. He had fallen asleep after the meeting and woke up starving. He didn't feel like company, but couldn't cook for his life. He opened his mouth and called for Kreacher, who immediately set about heating up the leftovers.
When he was alone again, Draco scarfed down his food. It was good; he'd give the Weasley woman that. His mother had never gone within fifty feet of the kitchen when Draco was growing up; they had elves to do that.
When Draco heard footsteps, he groaned. He made it to the doorway of the kitchen before Potter came into view.
"Running away again, Malfoy? You seem to do that a lot."
"Fuck you, Potter! Maybe I just don't feel like hanging around with a bunch of Gryffindor assholes and twenty other people who think I'm scum."
"It's a step up from Death Eaters, at least."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Right. A werewolf, a couple of renegade aurors, Moody, a thief and the Weasleys. I fail to see how that is a step up."
Potter snarled and stepped closer. They were almost chest-to-chest at this point, and Draco's dream from last night chose this moment to make itself remembered.
"Don't talk about them like that! They're good people, who are risking their lives to defeat Voldemort, not that you'd understand about that."
"Uh huh." It took Draco a moment to process Potter's words. "Being a spy risked my life more than anything your precious Order could do," he remarked once he could think.
Potter's glare intensified, but he stepped back and walked away. Now who's running away? Thought Draco. Despite spending the last minute praying furiously that he would, once Potter was gone Draco found himself mourning the loss of Potter's presence.
Following Potter with his gaze, Draco noticed how tense Potter was. He was banging around the pots and pans and swearing up a storm.
"What's eating you, Potter? Shouldn't you be excited about your coming watch duty? You're getting out of this hellhole, at least."
Potter barked out a laugh. "What sodding watch duty? Precious Potter can't possibly be put on watch duty, and Merlin forbid he actually takes part in the coming battle. Not, I have to sit at home while people I love go out and fight for me!! FUCKING PROPHECY!"
Draco unconsciously stepped back. Potter had turned around and advanced on him as he had spoken. Draco felt the wall behind him and tried to quench down the fear. And the lust.
"Do you know what its like to sit on your arse while the most important people in your life fight your battles for you? Of course you don't, Malfoy, you're the most important person in your life."
The fear was gone, replaced by anger. "Don't talk about something you don't understand, Potter! All of sixth year, the Dark Lord threatened to kill my mother unless I killed Dumbledore. He tortured her in front of me. I know exactly what it feels like to have someone you love in danger and not be able to do anything about it."
Draco pushed off the wall, and his chest bumped Potter's. There were no cliché fireworks at the first contact, but the sensation went straight to his groin nonetheless. Fortunately the bump to his chest had caused Potter to back up a foot. The boys stood in stalemate, neither moving nor backing down. Draco's eyes never left Potter's face, taking it all in.
The green eyes so full of emotion that they pulled Draco in; the messy hair, not quite covering the infamous scar; the lips, slightly wet from Potter's tongue and oh-so-perfect. Just when Draco knew he was going to do something he would regret, there were footsteps in the hall.
"Harry, mate, you okay?" Came the unmistakable tones of Weasley.
Harry and Draco sprang apart, and Draco all but ran out into the hall, pushing past a startled Weasley. His heart was still hammering as he locked himself in his room, and he banged his head against the door even as one hand came down to work at his erection. He was so deeply fucked.
Draco was granted a reprieve of several days free from Potter's presence. He realized he had a problem, somewhere deep down. But he was an expert in denial.
In first year, when Potter refused his friendship he told himself it was because Potter was not worth his time. Potter would grow to regret his decision, and Potter was a prat. In fact, it was the complete opposite. Draco had regretted that moment ever since, he had been the prat, not Potter.
Fourth year Potter got into the Triwizard tournament. That year Draco realized how much more important and powerful Potter was, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself for another four years.
During sixth year, when he had been given that impossible task, he deluded himself into thinking he could do it. He could achieve this task, triumph, and be a hero for once. He would show Potter and everything Potter stood for.
He did the same thing now. He took the newest thoughts of Potter and shoved them to a closet in the back of his mind. The thought that every thought in the closet involved Potter barely had time to surface before he shoved that one in too.
When Draco was abruptly woken early one morning, he wasn't too pleased. He growled and muffled the sounds coming from the hall. Turning over, he buried his head under his pillow and went back to sleep. It didn't even occur to him that three people couldn't possibly make that much noise.
The next time he awoke, it was to blessed silence; even after he removed the muffling spell. Handy little spell, that. Some of the boys in Draco's dormitory had been less than shy about wanking and later shagging. The only chance for a decent nights sleep was to muffle the sounds. He had poured through five library books in second year before he found the perfect one. Coconos created a soundproof cocoon around the caster, affording complete silence. It was helpful for studying and blocking out his roommates' extracurricular activities, but not so useful when Death Eaters were around. It made it impossible to hear them approaching.
After a perfunctory shower that was freezing cold, Draco headed downstairs. His hair was wet, and dripping down his shirt. He shook it out, spraying water droplets all over the kitchen and Potter. Who didn't react. Potter was just sitting there, not moving. His hands were gripping the table, knuckles white. It looked like the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
"Potter? What's going on?" No answer.
"What was that noise this morning?" Silence. "Where are Weasley and Granger?" It hit Draco suddenly.
"Oh, the Death Eaters attacked, didn't they?"
"Do you just enjoy hearing yourself talk, Malfoy? Or do you actually think the rest of us enjoy listening to you?" Potter ground the two questions out from between his clenched teeth. He barely opened his mouth, and he gnashed his teeth to an extent that Draco was surprised little bits of teeth weren't flying from his mouth.
"Touchy, aren't we Potter?" Potter simply dug his fingers deeper into the table. Draco smirked inwardly. Potter baiting remained one of his favorite pastimes. And the years off hadn't rusted his abilities in the slightest.
"Personally, I'd be glad if I were you. All those people out there fighting for you and you get to remain safe and reap the benefits. And perhaps this battle will weed out some of the less than satisfactory members of your precious Order."
Potter growled, and actually leapt over the table to get to Draco. He threw a punch that was lacking in power, but nevertheless threw Draco off balance. Before he could recover, Potter had him pressed against the wall with a hand constricting his airway.
"Take that back!" demanded Potter.
"No," Draco managed to rasp. Potter tightened his grip. His cheeks were flushed, and this close Draco could see the fine hairs already ghosting over his chin. Potter's lips were chapped and far too close. The rest of Potter was just as close. In spite of the pain, Draco felt himself reacting to the proximity in the most humiliating way.
From the way Potter tensed, he had noticed the erection pressing against his thigh. He stiffened and made as if to pull away. Midway through, he changed his mind and leaned forward again. He ground his hips into Draco's and attached their lips.
Potter's death grip on his throat relaxed and Draco melted into the kiss. The kiss was like everything between the two of them; passionate, angry, brutal, forceful, and competitive. When Potter shoved his tongue in Draco's mouth, Draco one-upped him by caressing the roof of Potter's mouth.
If not for the bruises forming on his neck, and Potter's glasses digging into his nose, Draco would have thought this was merely another dream. But it wasn't, it was a million times better. It was also the first contact Draco had had in almost two years, his left hand excluded. So when Potter shoved his hand inside Draco's robes and grasped his prick, it took only three short strokes before he was coming.
When the white spots faded from his eyes, Draco was aware of three things. First, he was panting as if he'd just flown for the snitch. Second, during his orgasm, his teeth had remained latched onto Potter's neck, and there was going to be a nice mark there. Third, Potter was still hard.
Draco was in a giving mood, so he unbuttoned Potter's muggle trousers. He had a little bit of trouble with the metal contraption below the button, but Potter's noises as he was playing with one nipple inspired him to figure it out.
Once the trousers were open, he shoved down both trousers and pants. Then his hand was on Potter's cock. It wasn't as if he'd never touched another guy's cock before. Draco had long since discovered that his tastes leaned toward the masculine persuasion. He knew what to do. His finger slid over the slit, smearing around precome. Potter was soon reduced to begging.
It took more time for Potter to come, but not much. As soon as Potter could stand without leaning on Draco, he put himself away and cast a cleaning charm. Then he walked back to the table and sat in the chair he recently vacated.
Draco watched him through half-lidded eyes. He hadn't expected any emotional conversations or post-coital cuddling, but that was shockingly abrupt. He cleaned himself up and left. He had Kreacher serve him breakfast in the library.