Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.

AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would not go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD

Harry noticed that it was happening slowly, but it was definitely happening; it seemed like Draco was groggily waking up from a deep coma. It boiled Harry's blood – he was hyper aware of the heat of his blood flowing through his legs, his arms, his cock – the way Draco was slowly coming too himself and fighting for control. When he tried to spin Harry to reverse their positions the Saviour of the Wizarding World laughed under his breath. It was almost adorable.

"What are you doing?"

Draco could tell the question was asked out of curiosity, rather then anger, like Harry was genuinly wondering what he was trying too do. But it was obvious. Draco Malfoy was bottom to no one. Draco Malfoy didn't even look like a bottom, or at least not like any bottom he'd run into yet. Draco was strong and muscled and tall, and maybe he was a little thin in places but he wasn't wiry like he used to be. He was fit and he had spent countless hours in the gym proving it. Draco glared at him balefully.

"Can tell why you weren't a Ravenclaw Potter."

"Draco dear, I want you to know that I have the full intention of fucking you this evening, and I want you to know that I will have you screaming for more."

"You seem pretty fucking sure of yourself for someone who-"
Harry cut him off by gripping his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of Draco's neck, "I am fucking sure Draco."

And he bent his head into the porcelain skin of Draco's throat kissing above his windpipe, sucking along his windpipe, biting along his windpipe.

Draco would never admit it but having Harry so dangerously in control of him was intoxicating; the way he could – and maybe even would – bite through Draco's skin and through something vital like his trachea or jugular set his pulse racing, his heart jumping and his libido pumping harder then it ever had – even harder then when he had seen that glorious England v. Australia quidditch match in the rain last summer. And that had been glorious.

He still battled as Harry unbuttoned and pushed down his trousers and pants – partly due to the fact he was still half terrified of Harry Potter and partly because he knew that was what Harry wanted.

Harry groaned. Draco's surprisingly strong form writhed in his grip and God, did Harry feel it. He was so strong and tough – the man had survived Belatrix for God's sake – and he was all Harry's. Harry wasn't sure Draco knew that quite yet, but he'd be sure to tell him first thing once he'd finished feeling him under him.

He took his hand from Draco's hair and held three in front of his mouth, "Suck Draco."

Draco let the fingers into his mouth and bit down just enough too hurt. He could feel Harry push himself against his thigh as he gasped and let Draco's wrists go so he could pull back Draco's head again. "Draco," a bit more forcefully this time, "suck."

And Draco moaned and he sucked, wriggling and thrusting under Harry for a little bit of friction – any bit of friction please God Almighty.

Harry's breathing grew heavy feeling Draco's tongue and his hips all over him; doing what he wanted them too. He slipped his fingers from Draco's mouth and ran them in a line down the middle of Draco's back as his little Slytherin arched into his body. He blew over Draco's shoulder at the line of wet saliva down his spine and the man shivered in his arms, "Oh, God Harry. Just touch me. Just fuck me already!"

Biting back a groan he pushed a finger into Draco's asshole. No preamble, no dallying.

He could feel the blond clench rhythmically around his fingers, he could feel the strength in the man and Oh God. He watched as Draco tried his hardest to fuck himself on his finger and slipped in another only too see Draco's head fling back. God, he looked so good like that. Harry wondered idly what the man would think about photography in the bedroom, or maybe even portraiture. Harry grunted and started fucking the man with his fingers, carefully slipping a third in as quickly as he could without hurting Draco.

From the reaction he got, he felt he'd achieved that pretty well actually. Draco was moaning and even – though Draco would not admit it and Harry knew better then too mention it – letting out the occasional high pitched keen.

"Harry, just fuck me already!"

"Why Draco," Harry drawled pulling out his fingers and lining up his cock, "You fucking little cockslut."

On the word slut he snapped his hips up, slamming into the man he had pinned up against the wall.

Draco let out a low yell, "Fucking yes!"

Harry grabbed Draco's legs and lifted them around his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts until Draco saw stars.

It was just twelve and a half more thrusts and countless shouts of harder Harry until Draco came, splattering come all over his pristine Hugo Boss suit jacket and Harry's bare chest. One half thrust more and Harry followed, exploding inside Draco and as he shakily rode out his orgasm he muttered a repeated mantra which sounds suspiciously like my cockslut. Mine. Always.

Draco found himself confused; should he be offended, flattered or filing for a restraining order?

Given that the man had just given him the most powerful orgasm of his life and he wasn't even late for work, he decided the little chant was endearing and ego boosting.

Harry couldn't help himself, he kissed up and down Draco's face – gentle fluttering kisses – and he kept muttering odd things like, "I've never felt so much, Draco." and "God, you feel... fuck Draco." and "It's so different. With you that is. Different with you." and "I still feel, Draco!"

Harry was smiling a smile Draco hadn't seen since Harry had last one a quidditch match at Hogwarts all those years ago – pure happiness – and although it confused Draco – it had been a quick and dirty fuck, angry and charged, not happy in the least – he found himself inexplicably happy that Harry was happy and not in a way that he could blame on post orgasmic bliss. He felt like he belonged here and he guessed they had a bit too go, but he could suck it up and give it a try. He would be brave like his Gryffindor, even if it killed him.