— What about Parkinson? Weren't you two dating?
Harry was sitting on the floor near the couch. It felt cozier that way than sitting formally, unsure of where to put his hands and legs. Besides, the carpet absorbed the warmth from the fireplace.
— Pfft, with her? No, not at all, - Draco replied, clearly skeptical about discussing his relationships with anyone, especially while sitting across from Potter. — She obviously liked me. Just like Theo and McLaggen... but she's not my type, — he shifted slightly, as if trying to sit more comfortably, and rubbed the rim of his mug.
A soft chuckle echoed through the room.
— So who is your type?
Draco finally looked at him. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or scared; it was just that looking at Potter made him think of nothing but Potter. The orange flickers of the fire danced on his face, reflecting off the mug in his hands. They illuminated the green eyes that now gazed at him with curiosity and amusement — a stark contrast to the anger and resentment they'd once held just a year ago. It was strange. Harry's fury had always been so familiar, even energizing. But now he was waiting for Draco's suspiciously delayed answer.
— Ha, as if I'd tell you. You'd just walk around mocking me afterward. I know you too well, Potter.
Harry kicked him lightly, causing the mug in Draco's hands to wobble.
— Come on, spill!
— No, seriously, I don't know! - The correct answer was spinning in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
— Just tell me! Who was your first?
Describe her appearance. Usually, that's the type people go for.
Draco frowned at him, pushing his overgrown hair back with his fingers, pretending to recall, even though the truth was...
— Wait. Don't tell me you've never been with anyone? — Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. He thought Draco might just be warm from sitting too close to the fire, but that wasn't it. The whole topic had embarrassed him from the start — the blush on his cheeks, the evasive answers. — No way, you're kidding! Every girl chased after you, even some from Gryffindor.
— Tsk, as if they didn't chase after you, hero. Bet you haven't even kissed anyone either, — Draco's voice was indignant, but there was something else beneath it. The conversation was heating up.
— Maybe not a girl, but... someone.
Draco's eyes widened. Harry started shaking with laughter, spilling mulled wine onto the carpet.
— Oh, please, do elaborate.
— Haha, what's there to say? Some things are better shown, - Harry scooted over to Draco's side, sitting close enough for their knees to touch.
— It was a year ago. He was older, knew what he wanted...
Harry placed a hand just above Draco's knee. The latter flinched at the unexpected touch but said nothing.
— He was confident, and that night I was drunk for the first time, so something just clicked, - Harry snapped his fingers with his free hand
- and I kissed him first.
His hand slowly slid upward, feeling the warmth of Draco's skin through the thin fabric of his trousers. Harry spoke slowly, as though sharing a dark secret.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.
— But he stopped me right away, pulling me aside to somewhere private.
Draco was breathing heavily, his gaze fixed on Harry's hand resting on the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to the center of his trousers. He sat half-turned toward Harry, not daring to look him in the eye. Yet he could feel Harry's expectant gaze burning into him. That bastard knew exactly how his words were affecting him. Draco resembled a cornered lamb, even letting out a strange sound - half warning, half stifled moan.
— There, he pinned me against the wall, giving me no chance to escape, —
Harry squeezed Draco's thigh slightly, inhaling the scent of his skin. — Не showed me how to kiss someone's neck properly, to make it feel good, - Harry moved closer still. - Like this...
Harry's lips brushed against the flushed skin of Draco's neck, waiting for a reaction. He didn't have to wait long. Draco let out a muffled groan, instinctively trying to back away, but the couch was right behind him. His body trembled, torn between wanting the contact to stop and wanting more.
What was he doing? Why had Harry's expression changed so drastically? The serious gaze full of desire and intensity was driving Draco mad, pinning him in place. He shut his eyes, quietly moaning under the sweet pressure of Harry's kisses on his neck. He hadn't imagined something could feel this good.
Harry relished the sounds he was coaxing out of Draco. He slipped an arm around his back, letting his free hand sneak under Draco's shirt, touching the heated skin beneath. His fingers traced along Draco's spine, making him arch his back slightly. The movement created friction in Draco's trousers, and he seemed unaware of how much he needed it.
Harry moved his hand to Draco's chin, gently tilting his flushed face toward him.
— Potter, sto-, — Draco took a deep breath, gasping when Harry's hand grazed the bulge in his trousers, - stop...
— Do you really want me to stop? — Harry whispered, their lips barely a centimeter apart.