It‘s a few weeks into their 8th year in Hogwarts. Harry has been struggling with insomnia and nightmares, haunted by the memories of the war. Lying in bed unable to sleep was awful in the nights where he couldn‘t sleep, so Harry had resorted to taking nightly walks around the castle. Today was one of these nights.
Harry laid in bed, the warmth of the covers nearly suffocating when it should have been comfortable. He stared at the top of his four-poster bed, itching to grab his wand and get the heck out of here. He didn‘t dare close his eyes for long, because when he did, all he could see was Crabbe falling into the fire. Cedric’s dull eyes. Voldemort climbing out of that cauldron. It was all just too much to even contemplate thinking about. Harry swung his legs out of bed, running one hand through his hair in an unconscious attempt to tame it as he reached for his wand with the other. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, shrugging on his cloak while he made to leave the Gryffindor tower. “Lumos,” Harry whispered, lighting up his path so he could pick himself a way through Ron’s mess on the floor.
Perhaps he could visit the Room of Requirement again? No, Mrs. Norris and Filch patrolled that area far too frequently, it was too risky. Or the prefects’ bath? Harry considered that for a second. Maybe another night, today he felt like breathing some fresh air. The Astromony tower then.
His wand clenched in his right hand, he made his way towards the Astronomy tower. Sure, that place held memories, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as having to relive all the memory from the war in bed. Plus, walking took his mind off those thoughts slightly. It wasn’t long before he reached the stairs of the Astronomy tower. He began his ascent of the spiral stairs, The soft light of his wand illuminated the steps. Close to the top, Harry paused for a second, his breath aching in his chest. The air was cool up here, a relief on his warm face, flushed from the ascent.
When he reached the top, however, his breath stalled. Malfoy was sitting at the ledge of the astronomy tower, staring at the stars. “Malfoy,” Harry blurted. The blonde whipped around, his eyes narrowing. In the low light, his hair seemed almost silver. “Potter,” he hissed. After a short moment of staring each other down, Malfoy asked, “What do you want?” His voice had an unusual edge to it, there was little of his familiar drawl, which seemed strange to Harry. “Last I checked, it’s not illegal to possess something called free will,” he snapped back. In response, Malfoy turned away, looking up into the sky again. Harry reacted without wanting to, stepping closer. He could sense a strange… vulnerability from Malfoy. Malfoy mumbled something softly, “I didn’t have free will when they wanted me to kill.. him.” Harry’s jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room as memories rushed back into his mind, the one thing he had been trying to run away from.
Not knowing what to reply, Harry took another step closer, now standing a mere three feet from Malfoy. “I was there, you know,” he said softly, “When.. when you were trying to kill… Dumbledore.” Malfoy looked at Harry, then his eyes lowered. A small breeze was stirring the blonde strands of his hair, and suddenly, Harry’s fingers were itching to touch his hair. Clenching his hands instead, Harry stared at Draco, who finally said, “I couldn’t do it. I just.. couldn’t.” His expression shuttered, and Harry couldn’t help but move even closer, until they were nearly face to face. “I don’t want your pity,” Malfoy ground out, his eyes flashing with anger, “Merlin’s beard, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Harry frowned, then said, “I don’t pity you, Malfoy. I get it.” Malfoy looks up and their gazes lock. Since when were Malfoy’s eyes so beautiful? And Harry was suddenly breathless. Galloping gargoyles, where did the air go?
It was stupid. And reckless. And a whole bunch of other things. But in that moment, it felt just right. Draco leaned in, just a fraction, and Harry didn’t pull away. Quite the opposite, in fact. Unconsciously, he had closed the distance between them, standing right before the ledge Draco was sitting on. And when their lips met, it felt like the universe had righted itself. They moved tentatively at first, then passion bled into the kiss and Harry couldn’t help but groan into Draco’s mouth.
Draco turned on the ledge, slipping off it to face Harry completely. Harry dropped his wand with a clatter, the soft light going out and leaving the two of them in near darkness. But Harry didn’t find Draco any less beautiful. In fact, the moonlight made the angles and planes of Malfoy’s face even starker. Harry’s arms encircled Malfoy’s waist and Harry pulled him closer. He kissed Malfoy’s neck and Malfoy groaned, his hips jerking forward against Harry’s. And, bloody hell, was he hard, Harry could feel him through the many layers of clothes, even though his cloak. It was cold, but Harry felt like he was on fire. His cock was straining in his pajama pants, the friction of the fabric making him see stars when Malfoy ground against him again. Surely.. surely Malfoy could feel his boner too. “Fuck,” Malfoy swore, grabbing Harry’s hips and grinding against him with intent now. Both their breaths were coming in short huffs, mingling in the cool air.
“Harry,” Malfoy groaned, and Harry knew just exactly what he wanted. He pulled back from
him for just a second, pulling his pants down and letting his cock bounce free from his boxers. He couldn’t care less about the cold air on his dick when he saw Malfoy had done the same, though it was too dark to see anything properly. A moment later, their hips connected again and, bloody hell, it was Malfoy’s dick against Harry’s. Harry moaned, his eyes closing. He knew he wouldn’t last long. He could already feel his balls tightening, his lower back tingling. Harry looked down, felt his precome slicking them both. “I.. can’t..” Draco moaned, a series of obscene curses leaving his mouth. Harry felt Draco’s fingers close around his and Draco’s cock, pressing them together and rubbing. Harry groaned Malfoy’s name, and then he couldn’t stop thrusting his hips into Malfoy’s hand because it felt so. good. Small whimpers were escaping Draco’s throat with every thrust, every whimper and thrust bringing Harry closer to the edge.
And then Draco froze. Harry opened his eyes, frowning at the other. “Someone’s coming,” Draco whispered, and then Harry heard it too. Soft footsteps, coming from the staircase. “They won’t be here instantly,” Harry responded, his voice a whine and his cock aching with impending release. “Please, Draco, please,” he whimpered, reaching down and covering Draco’s hand with his own, squeezing slightly around both their dicks. He had to, had to. He started thrusting his hips again, urgently now, and was pleased when Draco moaned his approval. Harry went taut, a loud, ragged groan tearing out of his throat as he shot ropes of come over their hands. Draco managed to control his sounds, pressing his lips together as he followed over the edge a second later, his body shaking with release.
Somebody cleared their throat behind Harry. He didn’t know how long Professor McGonagall had been standing there, and he didn’t want to know. Despite the low light, Harry could see that Draco had gone beet red. Their hands made an obscene sound when they separated, and Harry made sure to righten his pants before turning to face the headmaster. His face was hot, not from just now but from embarrassment.
Later, when Harry was back in bed, embarrassment still burning on his face, he came to the conclusion, that he had at least forgotten about the war temporarily.