I know that last chapter was somewhat of a disappointment, being Drarry-less and all. The information, though, will come up again, so it's relevant to the story. But this chapter makes up for it (hopefully) And it answers luvsallthingsslash's question.

And it spans over the course of two weeks.

Thanks to ClaireBouldwin, lusallthingsslash, cassy1994, BloodyRose90, WitchRavenFox and Obsessed362 for your feedback. It's always appreciated!

Enjoy!

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day Ten, Tuesday

The week after their trip to Diagon Alley, Draco approached Harry with a technique he'd read about. It wouldn't restore his memory, but it could give clues as to whether or not the memories were still there.

They sat at the small kitchen table after the supper dishes had been cleared.

"Okay, so how this works is, I'll say a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind."

"What if I don't think of anything?"

"I'm sure something will come to mind," Draco smirked. "Even if it doesn't make sense to you, say it."

"All right, but I'm not sure how it'll help."

"It may not. But this won't hurt. I promise."

Draco told Harry to relax and close his eyes, and to clear his mind as much as he could. He looked at the list of words he had prepared and readied his quill to record Harry's responses. The list was a mixture of every day, wizard and muggle terms.

"Ready?" Draco asked. Harry nodded.

Draco began. "Black."

"White."

"Ball."

"Bounce."

"Snake."

"Hiss." Harry answered but hesitated. Draco made a note to ask him about it later.

"Book."

"Read."

"Star."

"Shine."

"Dog."

"Cat."

"Owl."

"White." Harry frowned.

"Cake."

"Vanilla."

"Magic."

"Wand."

"Castle."

"King."

"Quidditch."

"What?"

"Just say the first thing," Draco ordered. "Quidditch."

"I can't think of anything."

"I'll come back to that," Draco said. "Broom."

"Stick."

"Voldemort."

Harry hesitated once again, but answered, "Death."

"Socks."

"Shoes."

"Elf."

Harry giggled. "Christmas."

"Quidditch," Draco tried again.

"Stitch."

"Dragon."

Harry opened his eyes. "You?"

Cocking his head, Draco asked, "Do you mean ewe as in sheep, or me?"

"You as in you," Harry pointed. "No offense," he added.

Draco laughed. "None taken. Actually, I consider it a compliment. And a good sign. My name means dragon." He grinned, "Although you insist on butchering it."

Harry blushed. "Sorry."

"I told you it's all right," Draco smiled. "It's better than what you used to call me." He inwardly cursed himself for once again saying too much.

"What did I used to call you?"

"Ferret," Draco answered, looking away.

"Jeez. I really was a git, wasn't I?"

"Believe me, I called you names as well. We did much worse than that, actually. But that's in the past."

"I guess I can't very well be angry about something I can't remember." Harry stole a glance at the list. "So, how did I do?"

Draco turned the paper slightly so Harry could look at it with him, causing Harry to lean in a little.

"You gave a lot of answers that would probably be typical for a muggle. For example, when I said black, you said white."

"Is that not good?"

"It's not necessarily bad," Draco replied. "But you had a Godfather named Black. I thought you would have given his first name or something related to him perhaps."

"Look here," Harry pointed, his arm brushing against Draco's. "I answered white again. For owl?"

Draco was momentarily distracted by the contact. "I believe you once owned a white owl."

"I had an owl? Cool."

Looking at his notes, Draco asked, "Why did you hesitate before answering 'hiss' when I said snake?"

"I thought slither too," Harry replied. "But I thought of hiss first, so that's what I said."

"Oh. Interesting. The name of my House at school was Slytherin. The symbol was a snake," Draco told him. "But slither is a word one associates with snakes, so I don't think it's particularly significant."

Looking further down the list Harry commented, "I don't know why I said vanilla for cake. I always go for chocolate."

"Oh."

Harry pointed to another word. "What's Vol-de-mort?" He sounded it out slowly. "I think I've heard you say that before."

Before answering, Draco asked Harry, "Why did you say death?"

Harry shrugged. "It reminded me of the word mortician, I suppose. I thought of death. What is it?"

"Death would be a good way to describe him."

"Voldemort is a person?" Harry looked at Draco. "You seem uncomfortable talking about him. Why would you include the name on the list?"

"He was the reason for the war." The former Death Eater sighed heavily. "I reckon I ought to tell you about it then." He had been trying to avoid it, but it was inevitable, once he let it slip.

He got up to make tea, and brought to the table some biscuits he had begun keeping since he found out Harry had a sweet tooth. He made a mental note to get chocolate ones next time.

Harry listened quietly, sipping his tea, as Draco told him bits and pieces of the war- what he knew about it at any rate. As Draco wasn't privy to all that the Golden Trio had done during their time at Hogwarts, he was only able to tell what he observed or heard second hand.

He did tell Harry that he had been the hero and was the one who finally brought down the Dark Lord. The skepticism was written all over Harry's face, especially upon hearing that he had effectively given up his life for the cause. He shamefully felt that if Harry Redmond had been in Potter's place, the war would have gone quite differently.

Reluctantly, Draco also recounted his family's involvement, as well as his, personally. After almost an hour, he felt he had divulged as much as Harry could handle without overwhelming him. Intending originally to downplay his family's role in the war, Draco found it rather cathartic to talk about his feelings regarding the matter. And whereas Harry Potter may have had no sympathy for what Draco personally went through, Harry Redmond had a great deal.

"That's awful," Harry said when Draco was finally finished. "And I thought Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were terrible people."

"Don't get me wrong," Draco said. "My parents did the best they could to protect me. They loved me. But once they had gotten involved with the Death Eaters, they had little control."

Harry subconsciously put a hand atop Draco's. "Well, it still must have been horrible, having those people take over your home and your lives."

Very aware of the hand on his own, the blond remained motionless so as not to draw attention to it. He enjoyed the warm gesture. It had been quite a while since he had been shown some sort of comfort.

"I didn't have it nearly as badly as you," Draco replied.

Harry laughed gently. "But I can't remember, so it's as though it never happened for me."

"I envy you that."

Reluctant to take his hand away, Draco eventually stood to clear the dishes from their snack. By the time the kitchen was clean, it was about the usual time for bed. Draco suggested they read awhile before turning in. Harry suspected it was a way for Draco to get his mind off the atrocities of which he spoke.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day Eleven, Wednesday

On the next day off, Harry woke up early despite not having to get up and work in the shop. He crept downstairs as quietly as possible as he could, taking his potions book with him. Though Draco had told him he was doing fine, Harry knew he still had a lot to learn. He often confused ingredients or forgot how they were to be used.

About two hours later, Harry had the strange feeling that he was being watched. He looked up from the jars to see Draco leaning against the doorjamb.

"If only you were this enthusiastic in school, Potter," Draco laughed. "Potions wasn't your forte."

Harry frowned. "You mean I was terrible with all this even when I remembered how?" He let out a sigh.

"Don't worry, you're exceptionally good at other things equally important." Draco walked to Harry and closed his book. "Besides, it's your day off."

"You called me Potter again," Harry pointed out. "I guess I'm not the only one bad with names, Drac-o." He emphasized the O.

"Actually, I've gotten used to you calling me Drake. But you're right. I should always refer to you as Harry so I don't slip in public."

"Speaking of public, are we going out today?" Harry asked excitedly.

"I hadn't really thought about it. Is there somewhere you wanted to go?"

"Anywhere," Harry said. "I feel all cooped up here."

"Hmm," Draco thought. "Maybe it would be a good idea to go to some of the places you used to frequent, like Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" Harry questioned. "Is that a dairy farm?"

Draco laughed. "No, it's a small village near Hogwarts."

"That's the school you told me about, right?"

"Yes. Students would take trips to Hogsmeade. It was near enough to walk, but not so that we went often," Draco told him. "We should go. Perhaps being somewhere so familiar will jog your memory."

Harry smiled. "All right. I'll go shower."

"I'll pick up breakfast for us while I'm waiting," Draco offered.

Bounding up the staircase like a child, Harry was excited to get out of the shop. They hadn't left it or Draco's flat since the Wednesday prior, except for a few quick meals.

Following breakfast, Draco apparated them to Hogsmeade, where they walked around a bit. Draco pointed out various establishments and told a few stories of his experiences in the village. All the while, he looked for any sign of recognition on Harry's face. Unfortunately, he saw none.

As they strolled toward the Three Broomsticks, Harry noticed something in the distance.

"Is that a castle?"

"That's Hogwarts."

"We went to school in a castle? It looks huge," Harry said.

Draco blinked. "Wait. You can see it?"

"Well, of course I can see it. It's colossal. And magnificent."

"But you don't understand. It's charmed to discourage muggles from approaching. You shouldn't see anything but a dilapidated old building," Draco said excitedly. "The fact that you can see it is a sign that your magic isn't tucked away quite as deeply as I thought."

Lost in thought, Draco slowly walked toward the tavern with Harry close at his side.

They found a table in a corner and ordered a couple of butterbeers, at Draco's insistence. Perusing the menu, Harry glanced up and noticed the way the server and the barmaid both looked at Draco. Neither had a smile for the pair. And Harry overheard one customer ask quietly to move to a different table, one farther away.

"Not a very friendly place," Harry commented as he took a sip from his glass. He made a sour face and put it back down. "And you say we used to come here when we were students?"

"It was a friendly place, for you and your friends. My friends and I didn't exactly endear ourselves to the staff."

"How long ago was this war?"

"Let's see, it ended in May, nineteen hundred ninety-eight. So, just seven years. Obviously it went on for years before that. But the final battle was seven years ago."

"And people still haven't let go of their animosity towards you?" Harry shook his head. "I suppose I should include myself in that."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. I'm used to it. People need someone to be the bad guy. You can't very well have a hero without a bad guy. And all the other bad guys are either dead, in Azkaban, or still in hiding. I'm the only one foolish enough to present myself as a target."

"But they're hypocrites, all those people who patronize your shop in secret."

Draco smiled. "Somehow I still manage to feel smug about it."

Harry laughed. "Yes, you do have a certain air of superiority about you."

"An air? Why, I am superior," Draco winked. And Harry's stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies. Draco most certainly was superior.

Throughout the rest of their lunch, Harry's mind kept wandering. He was having a difficult time reconciling the man that clearly was disdained by many, with the man he found to be so kind and charming. He felt he had spent enough time with Draco-eleven days, to be precise- to believe that the person he was with was genuine. Nobody could keep up an act against their natural personality that long. Of course, Harry had witnessed times when Draco had lost his patience. But he was a perfectionist. Harry didn't really see that as a flaw, though.

Draco turned to find Harry staring at him.

"What?" Draco asked self-consciously.

Startled out of his day dream, Harry jumped slightly. "N-Nothing. Sorry. I just . . . I guess I don't understand people."

Draco smirked. "Which is why I try to avoid them."

"Well, it's not right."

Harry subconsciously growled as he ate his meal, thinking about the people in the tavern, the bookstore and especially that Ron Weasley character. He was certain that if they got to know Draco the way he had, they'd find him just as agreeable and charming as he did.

Realizing he'd thought of the word charming to describe him yet again, Harry looked at his lunch companion. He was more than charming. He was intelligent and thoughtful. And handsome. Yes, now that Harry thought about it, he found the blond very attractive.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day nineteen, Thursday

The next week as he and Mirabelle sat to have lunch together as usual, Harry finally got up the nerve to bring up a delicate subject.

"Mirabelle, you said that Drake, er, Mr. Malfoy, entertains young men occasionally in his flat. Does he entertain only men?"

She tried to keep from snickering. Despite Harry's earlier protestations, she could see that his interest in Draco was more than merely as a mentor. But Mirabelle liked Harry and she could see a small change in Draco's demeanor since Harry came into their lives, so she resisted the urge to tease him.

"Yes. As far as I know, he isn't interested in women." She laughed, "If he were, I would have thrown my hat into the ring. He's quite a catch."

"Yeah," Harry said absentmindedly. "Um, I mean, uh, I guess," he stammered and blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed," she told him. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush. I think you'd be good for him. You keep him a bit off kilter."

"I do? You don't think it's odd for me to fancy a bloke?"

"Not at all," Mirabelle smiled. "Especially a bloke that seems to fancy you back."

Harry's gaze traveled to the open door. He couldn't see Draco, but he knew he was out in the shop. Harry shook his head.

"I don't think so. He's just being nice."

Mirabelle laughed out loud. "Nice is not how most people would describe him."

"Yes, I've noticed. But you like him, right?"

Mirabelle nodded. "Yes, he's a good employer and tutor. Probably because he wants his potions just so. But he's taught me well and compensates me fairly. More fairly than most apprentices."

Agreeing, Harry said, "You're right. He's done so much for me. I'd like to do something nice for him."

"Like what?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really have any money, so I can't buy him anything. And besides, he can afford anything he wants."

"Doesn't he pay you to work here?" Mirabelle asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He offered. After everything he's done, I couldn't take any money. He's already bought me new clothes, and he provides a place to sleep and meals- hey, maybe I can cook for him. He eats nothing but take away and restaurant food."

"You can cook?"

"Well, I can cook breakfast. I cook-used to cook, breakfast for my Aunt and Uncle." Harry frowned. "But I don't think Drake has what I need for a proper breakfast."

"I can help," Mirabelle offered. "What do you need? I can pick it up for you."

"But I don't have any money to pay for it."

"You can owe me," she grinned. The way to a man's heart is through the stomach, her muggle born mother used to say. And she was going to do whatever she could to help get those two together.

Harry smiled and gave Mirabelle a list of ingredients he would need to make a proper home made breakfast in bed. Harry stopped short at that though. Perhaps he ought to serve it at the table, he decided.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day twenty-four, Tuesday

Draco began to stir, the smell of frying sausage filling his nose. He opened his eyes to find Harry at the stove with his back to him. Harry was whistling quietly to himself, flipping flapjacks, stirring beans and turning bangers.

Inhaling deeply, Draco inadvertently moaned at the scrumptious aromas.

With a start, Harry turned around and grinned.

"Oh, you're finally up. I hope you're hungry,"

The tea kettle whistled loudly. Harry grabbed it with a towel and poured into the waiting tea pot.

"Smells wonderful," Draco said with a stretch. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"Aunt Petunia made me learn how so I could make breakfast for them," Harry answered. "At the time, I thought it was terribly unfair forcing a child to cook for the family. But now I'm glad, because I can do this for you." He grinned brightly.

"For me?"

"Yes, for you. Have a seat. It's almost ready." Harry gestured with a spatula to the kitchen table, which was neatly set for two.

Draco threw off the covers and eagerly sat down, waiting for Harry to finish. The more he smelled the food, the hungrier he became. Typically, he had only tea for breakfast with perhaps a bun or scone. But he was looking forward to the fry up Harry was preparing. He craned his neck trying to get a look at all Harry had going on the stove.

"Is that black pudding I see?"

Smiling to himself, Harry nodded casually. "Mhm."

Licking his lips, Draco commented, "I haven't had that in a very long time. You didn't make that from scratch, did you?"

Harry turned around and grinned. "Maybe," he teased.

"Where did you get all the ingredients? And how are you using my stove?"

Harry began to plate the meal of not only black pudding, but baked beans, rashers, and banana pancakes. There was a bowl of fresh berries on the table and a pot of tea steeping.

"Mirabelle helped me," Harry said sheepishly as he placed a plate down in front of Draco. "She went shopping for me yesterday. Then she came in early this morning, and I snuck her up here to get the stove working for me."

"Without waking me? I don't know how you managed that."

"Dig in," Harry urged.

Happily complying, Draco picked up a fork and scooped up a bit of beans along with some pudding. Harry quickly threw some food on a plate and joined Draco at the table.

The pair ate quietly at first, savoring every bite. Harry noticed the small moans of pleasure Draco let out occasionally, distracting him from his own meal. It gratified him greatly to be the cause of such sounds. It also caused him to wonder what else Harry could do to make Draco moan.

"This is brilliant," Draco finally spoke. "If I had known you could cook like this, I would have had you chained to my kitchen all this time." He popped a rather large bite of pancake into his mouth and smiled with a closed mouth.

Harry sat, mouth gaping at the image in his head of being chained in Draco's kitchen.

"You all right?" Draco asked, speaking through his food. Something the Malfoy heir would normally never do.

"Uh, yeah," Harry answered, still trying to shake the imaginary vision from his head. "I'll cook for you anytime," he offered. "I'll do anything for you."

Draco's smile faltered. It didn't seem to be just banter. Harry sounded far too serious. Until then, Draco wasn't quite sure if the flirtation between them had been his imagination.

"Shit, it's almost time to open the shop," Draco exclaimed, glancing at the clock.

"It's okay. Mirabelle is down there getting ready to open," Harry told him. "I'll go down as soon as I clean up, so you can shower."

Draco was touched by the planning that went into his breakfast treat, if not a little apprehensive about Harry and Mirabelle running the shop without him for a while.

"Let me at least do the clean up," Draco said.

"No, no. You sit. More tea?" Draco shook his head and Harry stood to clear their plates. He picked the dishes up and carried them to the sink.

Draco got up and walked behind Harry, carrying the tea cups. "I can do it with magic. It's much quicker." He pulled out his wand and recited a cleaning spell on the pile of dirty china, silver, and pots and pans. He waved his wand and the food scraps disappeared, leaving nothing but a shine.

Harry gasped. "Amazing. I'll never get used to that. Where do they go again?" He was hyper-aware that Draco remained standing behind him.

"Plates down there." Draco pointed right, to a cabinet at the end. "Pans under here." He tapped the cabinet in front of Harry's legs. "And glasses up here."

Draco picked up a glass in one hand and opened the cabinet with the other. Harry hadn't bothered to move out of the way, so Draco reached around, leaning slightly into Harry's shoulder.

Harry abruptly turned in place and, rising up on the balls of his feet a bit, impulsively kissed Draco. He leaned back to assess Draco's reaction.

Though not upset by the kiss, Draco was nonetheless surprised. He had felt there was a growing connection between them, but he didn't know if Harry felt it as well. He didn't know for sure until that moment.

"I wasn't sure . . . are you gay?" Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't recall either way. But I like you." He looked up hopefully. "So, I guess, yeah."

Without another word, Harry leaned forward and kissed his former rival again. This time, Draco responded in kind, placing a hand on the small of Harry's back. The kiss was slow and gentle, their lips slightly parted, but no more.

They broke apart and both chuckled softly, feeling a bit giddy. Blushing, Draco suggested Harry go downstairs to help Mirabelle while he showered and dressed.

Harry could hardly concentrate throughout the day. His eyes were constantly drawn to the blond. All he could think about was the kiss. Kisses, actually. And more often than not, Draco had his eye on Harry. Each time one caught the other looking, they smiled coyly.

Mirabelle was beside herself with curiosity. She knew something was going on between them, but Harry kept mum about the details. Not that she couldn't guess, but she would loved to have found out exactly what it took to soften her boss's hard exterior.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

As they readied for bed, a bit later as they usually did on Tuesdays, Harry was disappointed that Draco would let the evening end without another kiss. It had been all Harry thought of through the work day. It was all he thought of during supper, clean up, and even their casual conversation afterward. Harry had been certain Draco would make some sort of move by bed time at least. When he didn't, Harry took matters into his own hands.

"You know, I still feel badly about taking your bed every night," Harry said as he slid between the cool satin sheets.

"I've already told you," Draco reminded him. "I'll not have a guest sleeping on a transfigured chair."

"Well, actually, I meant for you to share the bed. It's so large, another person could fit between us. See?" Harry moved to the edge to illustrate his point. "Why shouldn't you be more comfortable?"

Draco hesitated transfiguring the chair. Harry could see that he was considering it-that he wanted to, even.

"Please? I feel as though I've already put you out so much. It really would make me feel less guilty." Harry tried to maintain an expression somewhere between innocence and pleading.

It must have worked because Draco walked around to the other side of the bed and gingerly got into bed. Not daring to look at Harry, Draco lay on his back, about as far to the edge as he could get. He lay perfectly still and didn't begin to relax until Harry said good night.

"Good night," Draco answered back. "Nox."

For several minutes, they each lay silently, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Trying to act as though he'd fallen asleep, Draco stared at the dark ceiling. He felt the bed move and realized that Harry had rolled over and was slowly inching his way closer.

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the room just enough for Harry to see Draco in soft shadows and light. He had expected the blond to take advantage of the cover of darkness to make his move. But none was forthcoming. Harry scooted over close enough to touch shoulders with Draco.

"I want to be with you," Harry whispered. "I know you want to be with me, too. I saw the way you looked at me all day."

Without looking at Harry, Draco whispered back, "It's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Harry asked propping himself up on his elbow.

"I don't want to take advantage," Draco answered.

"How is it taking advantage? I kissed you. I invited you into the bed. I want to be with you."

Draco remained silent.

"Don't you want me?" Harry asked, his voice pleading.

His resolve crumbling, Draco turned toward Harry. "Yes," he breathed. He leaned in and kissed Harry passionately.

Harry pressed his body against Draco's, grinding his hips and humping Draco's leg with all the finesse of an eleven year old boy.

Draco pulled back. "Harry, have you ever done this? Have you ever had sex with a man?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, embarrassed.

"We should slow down," Draco smiled.

"No. I want you."

"Do you know what that even means?" Draco asked.

"I know that I want something." Harry searched for the right way to put it. "I want to touch you. And I want you to touch me. I need you to touch me."

"We can touch," Draco said against his better judgement. "But I don't think you're ready for more than that."

Harry began to protest, but Draco's hand running down his back, and resting on his arse stopped him. They kissed while letting their hands roam. Draco tugged Harry's t-shirt up, and taking the hint, Harry broke away and lifted his arms for its removal.

Quickly following Draco's lead, Harry began to untie the string holding Draco's pajamas bottoms around his waist.

"I'll get that," Draco giggled lightly.

Harry grinned. "You're ticklish? I would never have guessed." He pulled down his own pajama bottoms under the covers and kicked them out the side and onto the floor. When he realized that both he and Draco were fully nude, Harry's stomach fluttered with nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" Draco asked, sensing Harry's trepidation.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I'm not sure what exactly to do though."

Draco rolled into Harry and kissed his neck. "Just follow my lead."

Harry felt Draco's fingers brush his chest lightly, drawing circles on his skin. He reached up and did the same to Draco. As Draco's hand moved south, Harry's hand mimicked. Harry gasped at the feel of the hand closing around his hardened cock. He swallowed hard and mirrored Draco's actions again.

Feeling restricted by the sheets, Draco pulled them away, revealing Harry's taut, muscular frame. There was just enough moonlight coming through the window for Draco to appreciate the smooth contours of his chest and arms. Not to mention the size of the cock he was holding. He watched as he stroked Harry slowly, at first, then picked up the pace.

Harry groaned and arched his back. He forgot about stroking Draco and reveled in the feeling that was all at once familiar and new. His hips thrust into Draco's hand to get more, faster.

Admiring the expression on Harry's face, Draco didn't mind being temporarily neglected. The sounds coming from Harry's throat kept him at attention, patiently awaiting his turn.

Suddenly, Harry grabbed tightly onto Draco's arm.

"Oh shit," Harry panted. "Drake." His mouth dropped open and his body stiffened.

Harry came in short, hot spurts on the sheet and Draco's hand.

After his breathing slowed, Harry opened his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I've made a mess." He couldn't meet Draco's eyes for the shame.

"Yes, you have," Draco grinned. He brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his fingers. "And it's delicious."

Harry's eyes went wide. "That was all right?"

"How did it feel?"

"Fucking brilliant," Harry answered, embarrassed.

"Then it was all right." Draco looked Harry in the eye. "You don't remember any of your previous sexual encounters, do you?" Draco chuckled. "I assume, at your age, you've had plenty."

"But if I don't remember, then, it's like you're my first."

That thought made Draco shudder. If they continued to pursue a relationship, there would be many more 'firsts' for Harry. The prospect of being responsible for them excited Draco.

His hand subconsciously began rubbing his still hard cock.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry," Harry cried. "I should be doing that."

"There isn't anything you should be doing," Draco said.

"I want to."

Draco moved his hand away and let Harry take over. His movements were jerky, and at times Harry gripped a bit too tightly, but his enthusiasm made it easy to overlook. Draco relaxed and lay on his back, while Harry hovered over him, pumping his fist wildly, a hard look of concentration on his face.

"Harry," Draco whispered. "It's not a race," he chuckled softly.

"Right." Harry slowed his movements and took a deep breath. He had been thinking about this man for weeks and now that he finally had gotten him where he wanted, he wasn't even enjoying it. Harry looked at Draco lying next to him with the soft moonlight washing over his incredibly fit body. "What else should I do?"

Draco opened his eyes and gave a small smile. "You can do whatever you'd like."

Harry swallowed. He leaned down and took Draco's bottom lip between his own. Draco's hand came up to clutch at Harry's hair as he returned the kiss. Once Harry calmed down, both of them began to enjoy the experience much more.

While his hand continued to leisurely stroke, Harry kissed and sucked at Draco's neck, then his collar bone, and shoulder. Draco smelled clean and musky, a combination of his soap, his cologne and his natural scent. But he tasted slightly salty. Harry proceeded downward until he reached an erect nipple.

Draco moaned as Harry licked and flicked his tongue. His hips thrust gently upward into Harry hand.

"Oh, yeah," Draco said quietly. "That's good."

Encouraged by Draco's words, Harry picked up the pace. He smiled as Draco writhed beneath him, his soft moans becoming more frequent.

"Harry, I'm gonna cum," Draco warned.

Harry leaned back a bit. The first jet streamed up high enough to hit Harry's chest. It startled him and he let go of Draco's cock and moved further back. He watched as Draco grabbed hold of himself to finish the job.

One last groan, and Draco released himself and grinned at Harry.

"It started out a bit rough, but that was great for your first hand job."

"What? Oh, yeah." Harry furrowed his brow. "I wonder if it really was, or if I just don't remember."

"Does it matter?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "It doesn't. This is what I want now."

"Me too," Draco said and pulled Harry down into a kiss.

They moved to their sides, Harry spooning Draco after Draco performed a cleaning spell. Harry couldn't recall if he'd done that with anyone else before, but he knew it was how he wanted to spend every night from then on.

Draco pulled the sheet back up over them and placed his hand on top of the arm draped across his body. A smile lingered on his face as he recalled the events of the evening. It had been a long time-too long-since he kept the company of a man overnight. But this was no ordinary man. And Draco was dangerously close to getting in over his head.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭