Harry woke up feeling like shit, his entire body sore from sleeping on the far too small couch and beside that he had a severe headache of the kind that only came from drinking too much firewhiskey.
“Stupid armrest” he muttered, massaging his neck, deliberately ignoring his throbbing head that he only had himself to blame for and focused on the forced-to-sleep-on-the-couch-inflicted pain which was no one’s fault but Ron’s, who’d been stretched out all over Harry’s bed last night, hugging and mumbling sweet words into a pillow that Harry would never be comfortable resting his head on again.
Ron had a perfectly nice bed of his own in the opposite end of the flat but more often than not he ended up in Harry’s, something he claimed had to do with the floorplan being laid out in a way that reminded him of his dorm at Hogwarts and while sleepwalking or being in a drunken state, he automatically moved in the direction of the wrong room and climbed under Harry’s covers, regardless of whether Harry was already sleeping there or not. This had caused a stray of absurd situations, not least the time he'd brought a one night stand over who'd been very surprised to wake up embraced by not one but two members of the golden trio.
The option of changing rooms had been debated several times but fact remained that Ron’s bedroom was the only one large enough to sprout a king size bed and since Hermione more often than not spent the night and Harry was depressingly single the present arrangement remained, which meant Harry ended up spending a lot of nights on the uncomfortable couch.
A relaxation charm he was well familiar with by now did wonders for his neck but for his throbbing head there was but one remedy. He staggered into the room where Ron was loudly snoring and dug around the drawers until he found the vial he was looking for, groaning out of relief as the pain left his body. Right after followed the weird sensation of his perception and reactions catching up and he stopped dead in his tracks, slowly turning around, realizing there had been something odd about the scene that he’d overlooked in his hungover state.
There was a far longer trail of clothes on the floor than normal, including not one but two pair of shoes and resting on Ron’s shoulder was a blond head that definitely didn’t belong to Hermione.
He stared, rubbed at his eyes and stared some more, his brain slowly taking in the whole picture. A smile curved his lips. This, he thought, was just too good to be true.
Any other morning, finding Ron entangled around Draco Malfoy would have had him go for his wand, suspecting impostors or imperios being at hand but after yesterday’s reunion party, the sight made a little more sense.
He hadn’t wanted to attend, agreeing with Ron that it was rather pointless since they saw their former classmates at the Leaky most weekends anyway. Hermione had claimed it was about reconnecting with people outside their usual circle of friends which basically consisted of Gryffindors with the occasional Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff thrown in, though Harry knew she too was rather content with things that way. In the end they'd ended up going because they’d agreed they owed it to Luna who had arranged the whole thing.
A surprisingly large number of people had shown but Hermione’s argument stood no ground, everyone was sitting according to house, throwing suspicious glances at the other tables or, in best case, offering strained nods of acknowledgement.
Food was good though, and apart from being in Luna’s barn, which had been transformed to look very much like the great hall, it was not much different than their pub nights. He’d chatted away with Seamus and Parvati and enjoyed sneaking occasional peaks at the classmates he had not seen since Hogwarts.
Most of them had looked pretty much the same but there had been a few surprises. Terry Boot was almost unrecognizable with blue spiky hair, far from his polished seventeen-year-old self, and Zacharias Smith, he was pleased to note, had almost gone bald and there was a general mushiness about him.
His eyes had mostly drawn to the Slytherin table though. He would have loved for them to have gone the same way as Smith but truth was they’d all brushed up pretty well. True, Slytherins were usually about showing off and they had the most to prove at an occasion like this so there was no surprise they were the best dressed people in the room. But expensive black suit aside, there was no denying that Draco Malfoy had grown into his chin in a way bordering on handsome and Harry would bet those long legs would look good even when not covered by tailored trousers.
Then he’d blushed at imagining Malfoy’s bare legs and struck up a conversation on quidditch with Dean, decidedly keeping his eyes away from the Slytherin table until Luna had made a toast and urged them to mingle, after which he’d felt himself magnetically drawn there.
Without a plan, or a thought on just how bad of an idea it was, he’d determinedly begun to cross the floor but found himself thwarted by Pansy Parkinson. Hermione’s words, that complete cow echoed in his head but he shook them off. There hadn't been anything cow-like about the girl in front of him. Just like Malfoy she had turned rather attractive, her black hair pulled back in an elegant ponytail, lips that had always seemed to pout now looked rather kissable and, oh Merlin, that kind of neckline should not be allowed.
He'd turned red at having found himself not only staring at Pansy’s clevage but actually considering burying his face between her breasts, something of the like he’d had no desire to do since Ginny. He’d expected to be met by a smirk, but the girl in front of him had looked surprisingly friendly as she'd reached out a hand to him.
“Hello Potter.”
He’d taken it and mirrored her smile. “Parkinson.”
Before they’d got any further, Neville had bumped his shoulder hard, knocking their joint hands apart.
Pansy had let out an outraged huff and Harry had a hard time restrining himself from punching his friend.
“We’ve been poisoned.”
“What?” He’d managed to turn his gaze away from Pansy’s cleavage.
“It was in the punch, some kind of love potion.”
“Are you sure?” Harry had asked vaguely, eyes drawing towards Pansy again.
“Very much so, look.” Neville had turned him around and he’d taken in the room where everyone was happily mingling with people they normally would be expected to hex. There was Ginny laughing in a very uncharacteristic girly way, her hand on Smith’s arm, there was Dean approaching Blaise Zabini with a determined look and Seamus ogling Gregory Goyle like he was the best thing to happen since sliced bread.
“Right.” He'd been forced to admit there was a point to Neville's words. If he could resist an imperio, he could certainly resist Pansy Parkinson. “I’ll get Ginny, you’ll get Seamus and then we’ll figure out what to do about the rest.” He'd ran across the floor, grabbed Ginny’s arm and apparated them both away before she could punch him or before he himself got the idea that Smith was a rather fuckable bloke after all.
Ginny had indeed punched him, but after being reminded of Smith’s brief career as quidditch commentator she had seen reason, healed his black eye and come up with the idea that the best antidote would be a bottle of firewhiskey, hence Harry’s urging need for a hungover cure. Somewhere in the process, his intention of helping out the rest of the Gryffindors had got lost.
It had been a pretty good night, since Ginny had never been his enemy the love potion had no effect in her company and they’d spent the evening debating who was worse between Smith and Parkinson. In the end they’d settled for a tie.
As he watched Ron and Malfoy sleeping in each other’s arms, he was torn between relief that it wasn’t himself lying there, the potion had made him consider Malfoy first after all, and bad conscience for not having gotten back to the party to get more of his friends out before disaster struck. At least Hermione had been forced to leave early, called in to help with an emergency situation at St Mungo’s.
There was a weak mumble from said disaster in bed who curled closer around Ron. Malfoy looked quite harmless and sweet like this and Ron appeared more content than hurt so Harry decided the whole thing was hilarious after all.
The potion should have worn off well by now and any minute the two boys would wake up to an unpleasant surprise. The polite thing would be to leave them to it, but there was a fair chance they would wreck his room in the havoc that followed and also, there was no way he was missing this. He remained where he was, pulled out the thickest book from the shelf and let it fall to the floor with a loud thud.
“Harry?” Ron mumbled sleepily. “Wass the time?”
“About seven.”
“Bloody early.”
“Yeah, you might wanna get up though.”
“Disagree” Ron yawned, shifting towards Malfoy only to stiffen and practically jump out of bed with a scream, taking the duvet with him.
It had Malfoy wake too, stare between Harry and Ron and then groan, placing the pillow over his face.
He couldn’t help sketching over the long limbs stretched out before him, lean but muscular. At least Malfoy was wearing pants, black boxers tightly clinging around his morning erection. He determinedly tore his eyes away and looked at Ron instead who seemed to have frozen in fright.
OK, so maybe this wasn’t totally funny but absurd in a more… assaulting and non-consensual kind of way. He made a silent promise to pay for whatever therapy Ron might need to recover.
“Er, so last night someone spiked the drinks with some kind of love potion” he began, realizing that not in a million years would Ron forgive him for barging out of there, leaving him to copulate with Malfoy. “Making people like people they don’t usually like...” Ron stared at him with an open mouth. “So, since the two of you don’t normally get on, you’d be drawn to each other and …eum, that’s why you slept with Malfoy” he finished lamely.
“What?” Ron had regained the ability to speak at last. “I didn’t sleep with him” he stated firmly but then seemed to grow unsure, looking to Malfoy for confirmation. “We didn’t, right?”
“No” Malfoy groaned. “It was far worse.”
“What could be worse?” Harry looked between them, noticing Ron’s cheeks flame red.
“We cuddled” came the muffled voice from under the pillow.
“Oh.” He paused a moment to process the information. “That’s not too bad, is it?” and then he couldn’t keep it together anymore but laughed so hard he had to lean on the shelf, sending half of the books to the floor as Ron glared at him.
“So” he went on when he was finally able to steady himself. “You two love birds want breakfast or do you want to cuddle a little longer?”
“No” Ron said sourly. “Malfoy is going to get the hell out of here and then I’m going to obliviate myself.”
“Even if you manage that, there’s no way I’m not reminding you of it.”
Ron gave him the finger and Malfoy chose to throw the pillow at him. “Fuck off Potter.”
“No way, I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”
“If watching the Weasel not getting fucked is what gets you off, you have a very pathetic sex life.” Harry was too busy staring at him to be able to think of a suitable retort. With his hair ruffled and cheeks slightly colored, not to mention his nearly naked state, Malfoy looked like he was freshly fucked. Since the love potion had worn off hours ago, there was no logical reason Harry should find it so charming.
“The ferret has a point.”
“What?” Harry closed his mouth which he realized had been hanging slightly open.
“Well, it is a bit pathetic.”
This time he did have a retort but before the words at least I’m not cuddling Malfoy were out of his mouth, there was a muffled sound from the front door opening and closing.
“Hermione!” Ron got a panicked look in his eyes and threw the duvet down, starting to grab for clothes at random. “Everyone shut up, she cannot come in here to see me in bed with the ferret.”
“I believe you called me Draco last night” Malfoy supplied unhelpfully.
“It’s no big deal, you just cuddled after all” Harry grinned as he watched Ron simultaneously throwing on Harry’s auror trainee sweater and trying in vain to pull Malfoy’s fitted black trousers over his thighs.
“And that might just be the thing that finally has her ditching me” was heard from somewhere underneath the sweater that had been turned inside out.
Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione spent at least six of every seven nights in Ron’s bed and the two of them were currently looking at engagement rings, yet none of it'd helped Ron drop his fear of being dumped by the girl he thought too good for him.
“She loves you, and she obviously won’t blame you for anything you did while effected by a potion” Harry tried in a calming voice but his argument was dried out by Malfoy hissing “Weasel I will kill you” as Ron directed his wand to expand the fabric of the trousers while Hermione called “Ron, Harry, are you home?”
With a jump, Ron managed to get the trousers over his thighs, simultaneously knocking Harry over, sending him head first down the bed.
“Damn it Potter.” Malfoy tried to entangle himself from underneath him.
“Sorry” Harry removed the hand he’d accidentally placed on Malfoy’s thigh in a clumsy attempt at steadying himself.
“Brilliant” Ron beamed down at them.
“What?” he and Malfoy asked at the same time.
“Harry, I give you a thousand galleons if this happened to you instead.”
He was clever enough not to point out that Ron didn’t have a thousand galleons and that he himself didn't really need to expand his vast vault. “That makes no sense.”
“Yes it does” Ron said exalted. “It’s your room, you’re gay and you’ve got a thing for posh, blond gits, it’s perfectly plausible.”
“You’re gay?” Malfoy asked, eyeing him with surprise.
“Yes” Harry replied curtly, relieved that was the part of Ron’s statement he’d focused on. “Ron, this is just silly.”
“But you were there too last night, it could as well have happened to you.”
“What did happen to you last night Potter?” Malfoy asked curiously.
Harry had been hoping that question wouldn’t come up. “Er…I ran into Parkinson.”
“Oh you poor thing” Malfoy grinned broadly.
“You cuddled with Parkinson?” Ron asked horrified.
Malfoy snorted. “Pansy doesn’t cuddle. Whatever she can get her hands on, she will fuck raw. I’m surprised you can still stand, Potter.”
Harry felt a little sick at the thought of that nearly happening. Ron was looking at him with a terrified expression and he sighed. Between his best friend thinking he’d slept with Pansy Parkinson or finding out the truth about how he’d bolted to leave said best friend to his destiny, he’d rather have the latter. “No, er I managed to get out before anything happened.”
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You left me to cuddle the ferret” he said raising an accusing finger.
“I thought Neville would help you” Harry tried in a small voice.
Malfoy snorted again. “Last I saw Longbottom he was slow dancing with Millicent Bulstrode.”
“Oh.” Neville was going to be furious with him. “Bummer.”
“Yes, bummer” Ron repeated sarcastically. “So, you definitely owe me.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Fine, I’ll do it. I still think it’s stupid though. Worst case, Hermione will find it hilarious and make a joke about it at your wedding reception.”
“That is pretty bad” Malfoy muttered.
There was a knock to the door.
“What do I get out of it?” Malfoy asked.
Ron thought fast. “A bag of wheezes products before they hit the market. And I won’t call you ferret again.”
“Deal” Malfoy sat up behind Harry, placing a leg on each side of him. “Might as well do this properly” he whispered, lips brushing against Harry’s earlobe, sending shivers all through his body.
Ron gave them the thumbs up and yelled “come in”.
“Oh thank Merlin you’re here, it was the most bizarre night…”she interrupted herself staring at the unexpected house guest that was wrapped around Harry. “Oh…hello Malfoy.”
“Yes, totally bizarre, Malfoy spent the night by the way, with Harry, that is” Ron babbled and it was only the warm hand coming to rest on his thigh that stopped Harry from snorting out loud. Ron was possibly the worst liar in the world.
“And you went in here to bother them? Please tell me you didn’t attempt to climb into Harry’s bed again.”
“Again?” Malfoy asked into Harry’s ear, laughter in his voice.
“Don’t ask” Harry muttered, grabbing for the duvet to wrap around them in the pretense of shielding Malfoy’s bare legs though he really was more concerned about covering his own growing hard on.
“Absolutely not.” Ron was obviously eager to stick to the line that he and Malfoy had been nowhere near each other during the night. “I just came in to get a…” he searched the shelf and found the empty vial. “Hangover potion” he said triumphantly. “Didn’t even know that the f..” he looked at them with a frown. “That Malfoy was here.”
Hermione gave him a suspicious dressing down. One could smell Ron lying from a mile. “Did you just get back from Mungo’s?” he asked to shift her attention.
“Yes” she sighed. “It was the most awful night, first there was an explosion in the department of mysteries, which was why they called me in. No deaths fortunately but the unspeakables on duty got sprained by a purple fluid that had them all sprout tentacles. They refused to say what was in the liquid so it took forever to find a cure that worked and once that finally was taken care of, people started coming in from the party, which I’m sure you can imagine why.”
“Umpf” Ron let out, his lips pressed tight together.
Harry didn’t say anything at all, he was distracted by Malfoy trailing a hand under his t-shirt, stroking the skin of his back. It felt ridiculously good and was completely unnecessary for their act since Hermione would not be able to see it from where she was standing.
“Luna was really sorry, apparently she had only meant to add a slight dose of pearl dust to get everyone to lighten up but she must have overdone it. From what I picked up, people only got a little cosy with each other though, which was a relief, I mean at least there was no non-consensual sex.”
There was another umpf from Ron.
“So if not to deal with unwanted pregnancies or STDs, why did they go to the hospital?” Malfoy asked, again dissuading Hermione’s attention from Ron’s strange behavior.
“A few came in just because they were worried about what was happening, but some were suffering from itching boils around the rectal area, pearl dust and champagne can create an allergic reaction for some people, you see.”
Ron made a non-too discreet movement of feeling his arse when Hermione looked the other way.
“It was in the champagne?” Harry blurted out.
“Yes, it happened after I left, but Neville told me it was brought out for the toast, and that’s when everyone got poisoned.”
“Are you telling me Longbottom’s ass is covered in boils?” Malfoy grinned.
Hermione mumbled something about patient’s confidentiality but Harry was busy mulling the previous evening over. He’d assumed it’d been a slow working poison mixed into the welcoming punch but the toast had happened just before he left, and he’d been ogling Malfoy well before that, meaning wondering what Malfoy looked like naked was not a result of a love potion as much as him actually wondering.
He let out an unvoluntary groan, quiet enough for Ron and Hermione to miss it but it didn’t escape Malfoy who was pressed against him and seemed to think it a command to move his hand from Harry’s back to his stomach, stroking him just below his belly button, millimeters away from his straining erection. Oh, this was bad.
He desperately shifted on the bed and managed to knock the hand away, but all that happened was that Malfoy put it back, this time definitely brushing against the head of his cock. Even through the fabric of his joggers, there was no way he could not have noticed him having a hard on, and sure enough, Malfoy grew completely still and then pulled his hand away as if burnt.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, searching his face.
“I’m fine” Harry muttered, although he very much wasn’t. The only way this would be fine was if the ground would open up and swallow him whole within the next five seconds. He closed his eyes and counted but his prayers went unheard.
“Are you sure? You look a bit red. It might be a lingering reaction.” She looked over to Malfoy. “Did he have the champagne or did the two of you leave before that?”
“What do you mean did I have the champagne? Why would I have brought Malfoy here if I hadn’t?”
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Please, you had made up your mind about taking him to bed long before I left, I saw you watching each other all throughout dinner, I’m really not that surprised at finding him here.”
He felt his face reddening further and wished Hermione would stop talking. He could not tell Malfoy’s reaction from this position but he was sure he would be appalled by her words. If he really had been watching Harry last night, it would have been with his usual contempt.
“Eum, Mione” Ron pulled at her sleeve, obviously having picked up on the pained look on Harry’s face.
“What Ron? They are wrapped up in bed together, if it'd just been the potion, Malfoy would have been long gone by now.”
He would have, if they’d only thought Ron’s stupid plan through. Well, Malfoy would be gone soon enough, he probably couldn’t wait to leave. Harry closed his eyes again, making it his new plan to dive under the covers as soon as Hermione was out of the room and not get up until Malfoy had disapparated.
“Harry, you really don’t seem well. Are you sure you haven’t got any boils?”
Ron snorted. “Why don’t we leave that for Malfoy to investigate” he said with a grin, taking Hermione by the elbow and leading her out of the room, giving them the thumbs up behind her back before he closed the door.
Determined to see his plan through, Harry turned on his side and got under the duvet. He could hear Malfoy snickering somewhere outside it.
“Now, where do we stand on those boils, Potter?”
“If you’re done humiliating me, please feel free to leave” Harry said with all the dignity he could muster, which frankly wasn’t much.
“Oh, I’m not nearly done.” Of course he wasn’t.
“Git.”
“Come on Potter, I think that worked out perfectly well.”
Harry brought the duvet down to glare at him. “In what universe did that go well?”
“She bought it, didn’t she?”
“Great. You’re a great actor, you want a medal for it or something?”
“I could do with the something” Malfoy said smugly, somehow managing to get a hand under the cover, reaching beneath the hem of Harry’s joggers, finding his cock that was still pulsing hard in his pants, completely unconcerned about Harry just living through one of his most mortifying moments.
“What are you doing?” he asked stiffly as the hand reached inside the boxers and closed around him.
“You” Malfoy said simply, edging closer under the duvet, stroking him.
“I thought you didn’t want…” Harry panted between the strokes. “You seemed…repulsed.”
“I’m not crass enough to jerk you off in front of your friends Potter, I don’t have any trouble doing it when we’re on our own though.”
“Fuck” Harry let out because that felt good. “Can I touch you?”
“Please.”
Malfoy got out of his boxers and Harry chose to wriggle out of his clothes too and then there was nothing between them. While his bed didn't usually see much action, this was in no way new to him, yet he felt inexplicably shy while meeting Malfoy’s eyes.
Malfoy didn’t go for his cock immediately but let his hands run over Harry’s back and thighs. Harry, unsure of what to do with his own hands, ended up drawing his fingers through the blond hair. If Malfoy found it sappy he didn’t let it on but closed his eyes, a content look on his face.
“So, Potter, I’ve been told you’ve got a thing about posh, blond gits.”
“No” Harry said, beginning to understand the cause of that preference, “I think it’s really only about you.”
Malfoy opened his eyes and grinned at him, bringing their lips together. Harry responded eagerly and somewhere in the process the hand was back on his cock and he was not late to mirror the movement.
“Fuck” he mumbled again into Malfoy’s mouth.
“Maybe next time, I don’t think this is going to take very long.” Fingers fingers brushed his balls. If it was the touch or the promise of a follow up that had him spill all over Malfoy’s stomach like a horny teenager, he didn’t know. It would have been completely devastating if Malfoy hadn’t let out a loud moan and emptied himself in Harry's fist only seconds after.
They laid on their backs breathing heavily for a good ten minutes.
“Now what?” Harry asked finally, letting his fingers touch Malfoy’s.
“I believe there was an offer of breakfast or a cuddle earlier, does that still stand?”
Harry turned on his side, drawing his fingers through the blond hair again. “I see no reason why it couldn’t be both.”