trust this moment of hurried movements and electric silence
Harry tensed and his smile dropped. Draco smirked at this.
“Scared, Potter?”
Harry raised his other hand to Draco’s hair, pushed it back out of his eyes.
“You wish,” he said before meeting his eyes again, “Draco.”
—————
Draco couldn’t stop the sound that left his throat—he had no chance. Not when Harry was pressed up against him looking flushed, with a hand on his hair, calling him by his first name. He didn’t care that kissing him first would mean that Harry won. He didn’t fucking care about his damn reputation anymore, because he had this boy blushing and waiting for him to kiss him. He knew he wasn’t reading Harry’s signals wrong—knew that this wasn’t some awful prank that would come back to humiliate him later.
Draco stared at those steady green eyes and knew he didn’t care even if it was a trick. He was going to trust this moment and not be ashamed of it later. If he needed to, he’d just laugh it off in public like he did with everything else.
“Draco?” Harry whispered. He started to pull his hand back, started to retreat.
Draco half dropped his head toward Harry’s and half pulled Harry’s mouth up toward his. Draco had fooled around with Blaise sometimes but only when they were angry and needed an outlet; it was always harsh holds and rough edges and breaking into the other’s space. This was different. Harry was different. Draco wanted so desperately to pull him forward, steal Harry into his own space. They fell into each other in hurried movements and electric silence; with hands in each other’s hair Draco trapped Harry against him. And Harry seemed more than willing to walk right into that trap.
Harry tried pulling Draco even closer, which would’ve been impressive since there was hardly any room left between them; Draco had already taken care of that. They kissed each other too eagerly for boys who call each other enemies—but all of their pent up resentment toward each other was being channeled into something new. And the excitement of the newness was overwhelming. Neither boy was interested in taking their time—they wanted to get as far as they could before one of them woke up from this and ran.
They kept pulling on each other, hair, shoulders, hips; but since they were already glued together all they accomplished was disheveled clothes and messy hair. Draco’s hair had fallen completely out of his usual slicked back style and was now falling in his eyes, which would’ve annoyed him but he thought Harry would probably really like seeing it undone. Draco’s hands were racing across Harry, not stopping for anything—like they were rushing to feel everything now that they could touch this boy he’s stared at for years.
Harry’s arms were warm and his muscles flexed under Draco’s hands. He quickly switched to grab Harry’s ass and then to grip at the bare skin at his waist and then up to his shoulders. He liked sliding his hand under the strip of sleeve because it felt risqué somehow, and Harry lifted his hips away from the wall to push against Draco’s in response.
They moaned into their kissing and Draco’s hands finally paused on Harry’s waist, his fingers reaching up under his sweater with one hand flat against his lower stomach feeling his abs tense underneath. Harry lifted himself into Draco’s palm. He slid his hand around and up Harry’s back and kept their chests connected.
Harry’s head bumped against the wall and he tried to shift his footing, but all Draco noticed was how Harry lifted his chest toward him and how easily his leg slid between Harry’s. He got greedy and stepped closer to the wall so he could keep Harry’s thigh between his own. Harry gasped and Draco seemed to remember that neither of them had been breathing since they started.
He dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder and tried to hold himself up by the wall—he hated taking a hand off Harry to steady himself but he was too lightheaded not to. The whole world was spinning. This couldn’t be happening; maybe there was some other potion in his goblet that made him do ridiculous things.
Harry gently rocked his hips forward into Draco’s and the grip Draco had on Harry’s waist tensed hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. Harry turned his head into Draco and started kissing his neck, still keeping both hands glued to Draco’s back—like he was scared the boy would back away and leave. Draco let his hand drop off the wall onto Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “Fuck.”
He could feel Harry’s lips smile against his neck and sunk his fingers even deeper into the flesh above Harry’s hip. Draco’s other hand found its way into Harry’s hair again and Draco turned his head slightly so his lips grazed the base of Harry’s neck. He stayed there not moving, just resting his head and letting his too-fast breathing tickle Harry’s neck with his mouth annoyingly close but not really kissing him.
The spinning got worse; everything was flying out into space. Draco only ever wanted to be near this golden headstrong boy and if fighting was all he’d get then he’d drag them both through the mud just to feel him. But this—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to be able to touch him gently. He was only meant to hold him so he could land a punch. He felt dizzy and light-headed and maybe his stomach dropped so far down from shock that it gave him a bit of vertigo too.
It was like the planet’s gravity got shut off and instead Draco was kept attached to this boy kissing his neck. Only Harry stayed fixed to the ground; the only gravity left was the pull that kept Draco around Harry. He stayed pressed against Draco as everything else fell away, like he wanted him to stay. Draco pulled Harry’s sweater aside and bit down hard into Harry’s shoulder, trying to center himself around a different kind of pressure than the one growing between his legs.
They had always met each other with an intense heat meant to burn through skin and leave the other charred. The heat between them now was so hot it felt like they were sparking off each other whenever they touched, but it didn’t hurt this time—just made stars out of embers at the edges of their vision. And Harry had always looked best in the sky.
The fire was still in Harry’s hands, still burning into Draco but it was a warm heat now; no pain, no smoke choking them, no words cutting into each other. Harry’s hands were warm like everything else about him and Draco started to relax into them, started to melt into them. All Harry noticed was how still Draco went; and it wasn’t the bad still that was all tension and shivering rage when he tried to keep his anger inside his skin.
This Draco was still in a patient kind of way, like he wanted the wind to play with his hair and weave it into knots. Harry wanted to warm him like the garden snakes back home who’d sleep in the sun. Harry wanted to watch the sun sink into the Great Hall and paint Draco gold again, wanted to see him smile as bright as he glowed earlier.
Harry groaned from deep in his throat and Draco was so close he could feel where it started before he heard it. He couldn’t stop the smile at that realization. Harry pulled on Draco’s shirt hard enough to rip a couple buttons off. Draco gave out a breathy laugh—he sounded delirious or high and he certainly felt like he was floating now.
Draco tried moving his hips even closer into him but there wasn’t any gap left to bridge. The pressure felt good nonetheless and Draco pulled on Harry’s hair again. He didn’t mean to pull that hard but Harry’s head lifted with his hair, his mouth coming off Draco with a wet pop.
Harry was gasping now and leaning his head against Draco’s and weakly tried to get even more buttons open on Draco’s shirt. He was about to lose it, because Harry was moaning and out of breath and now moving his hips against Draco’s in a way that made his eyes want to roll back.
Draco slammed a hand against the wall above Harry’s head and finally lifted his teeth off Harry’s collarbone. They locked eyes for the first time since they started and Harry just kept rolling his hips. He kept his eyes on Draco’s not blinking, like he was waiting for something and didn’t want to miss it.
Draco tried to steady his breathing suddenly aware of how breathless he had let himself sound right against Harry’s ear, no way he didn’t hear it. Damn, he wanted Harry to hear it, to egg him on. That might be worse. But now that he was listening he could hear Harry sounding just as bad. But this was too much. For Harry to sound breathless while looking right at him with his hips still moving like that was too much.
Harry was seeing too much of him and Draco was fighting not to run. No, he’d regret it forever if he hid from this now. Malfoys aren’t cowards. He didn’t need to wear red to know how to run headfirst into something he wanted. And Harry seemed to really want this too.
Those stupid green eyes kept seeking his out; Draco dropped his head back toward Harry’s shoulder and grabbed Harry by the jaw, palm pressing on his neck, to turn his face away. Draco could feel Harry’s moaning through his hand, hear it right against his ear, feel how quickly his chest was rising to get more air.
Draco didn’t want to stop or even pause long enough to risk breaking whatever moment they were busy having, but he really didn’t want someone hearing them either. He lowered his forehead onto Harry’s and went nearly cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact. Harry laughed and lifted Draco’s head into his hands so he could lean on something and still look at Harry.
Fuck, his laugh could cut into him and burrow right between his ribs. It’d rot him from the inside if he let it. But Draco had been feeling like he’d been rotting away for years now; what’s one more thing trying to kill him. Maybe that laugh would chase out all the other ghosts hiding in his blood; maybe it’d be territorial and want to be the only thing lurking inside him. Maybe it’d be kinder to him, wouldn’t storm and rattle him around so much.
“Where’s your wand?” Draco said between heavy exhales.
“What?” Harry asked sounding completely thrown off.
“Wanna lock the door, put up a sound-proofing charm,” Draco explained. Harry looked at him and smiled.
“You’re not tired?” Harry joked but he was trying to hide how high his excitement went up from hearing Draco wanted to stay.
“I’m winded not tired,” Draco said in his usual snappy voice whenever he traded jabs with Harry but there was no bite to it right now. He’d left all the teeth of his quips imprinted on Harry’s neck. They looked better there.
“Oh, sorry for not noticing the difference,” Harry said taking his hands away from Draco’s face and letting his head fall a few inches before catching him again.
“Not holding your own head up sounds like being tired,” Harry said smiling wider. His teeth were so bright against his dark skin.
Draco could feel that smile turn his face pink but he didn’t care about blushing in front of Harry anymore. He didn’t just stamp a set of his teethmarks into him to still be worried over blushing.
“To you, but you're in the bottom half of our class so you wouldn’t know much. Besides, you look happy holding me. Who am I to deprive you the honor?”
“My grades are that bad?” Harry asked stretching his fingers into the back of Draco’s hair.
“You should really turn in your homework more. It counts for a lot. What’s the point of having a smart friend if you’re not gonna use ‘em?”
“You are such a Slytherin. You go around just using your friends?”
“'Course not. They use me. I’m too good to need things from other people.”
Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore Draco’s casual arrogance. He’d much rather make Draco so needy he’d beg.
“Well, I couldn’t use Hermione even if I wanted to; she’d skewer me if I copied any more of her work. Something about ethics.”
“Wait—you already copy off her?”
“Sometimes, when she lets us. Usually for longer papers I can’t b.s. my way through.”
Harry shifted his hands until his fingers were buried in Draco’s hair and started to rub his fingertips into his scalp. Draco’s eyelids flickered as he tilted his chin up and his head back into Harry’s hands. Harry watched those pale eyelashes flutter at him and pressed another kiss into an already darkening mark on Draco’s stretched neck.
“Merlin, Harry. You mean she’s helping you and your rank’s still that low? You might be a lost cause.”
Draco hadn’t noticed that he finally called him by his first name, but Harry tensed under him and that definitely caught Draco’s attention. He snapped his neck back down searching out Harry’s face for any sign of real hurt.
“What? I was just joking, you could probably save it if you studied a bit,” Draco hurried to say. He really didn’t want this to end in a fight. He'd already seen Harry smile at him about five times but that alone made him never want to see Harry’s anger directed at him again. His smile was so much better than hearing him shoot a hex at him.
“S’not that. I don’t care about my grades,” Harry said and Draco immediately hit the brakes on his freak out.
He relaxed back into Harry’s chest; still glued at the hips, legs slotted between each other but there was nothing relaxed down there. Their thighs flexed against each other and their hips both tried to push the other back—all they accomplished was this almost painful pressure that was starting to feel addicting. Like they were magnets stuck together, like they were meant to get stuck.
“I’m not a nerd,” Harry continued.
“Ouch,” Draco said feigning hurt.
Harry put his hand over Draco’s chest, “Where does it hurt?”
“Right there, where you’ve got your hand,” Draco said not wanting him to move it away. But Harry did move his hand and before Draco could be upset, he realized why. Harry kissed him, right where his hand had been, in the middle of his chest; and because he broke some buttons off earlier, Harry could move it enough to kiss him on bare skin.
Draco wanted to faint but really didn’t want Harry to see how affected he was—at least not that way anyway, because Draco did rut his hips into Harry who still had his fingers dipping under his shirt melting hot into his skin.
“You called me Harry earlier. That’s what I was reacting to,” Harry whispered putting his other hand on Draco’s back, right above his belt.
“I said it a couple times earlier, didn’t I?” Draco asked, but he was sure he did. He wasn’t gonna miss what might’ve been his only chance to get away with that. And he certainly wasn’t going to tell Harry that—he was already looking too smug.
“But that was with Fred’s face. I’ve heard him say it plenty. You said it just now with your own voice.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Draco wasn’t sure what to say to that or what Harry wanted to hear.
“First time you used it and you were moaning,” Harry said through a widening smirk. “I gotta say I liked it. But I think you liked me calling you Draco more. Going off your earlier reaction anyway,” Harry said tilting his head sideways and looking at Draco in way that should be criminal. Draco should get it outlawed so no one else could see it. They’d want to jump Harry’s bones if they saw it, and Draco didn’t want Harry going anywhere else.
“It was the way you said it,” Draco tried to explain himself and save some face. He was doing an impressive job of letting himself open up in front of Harry, but letting himself be embarrassed by Harry was a step too far. Especially when he was looking at him like that.
“Wanna hear the other ways I can say it?” Harry said in a low voice that hit at something in Draco’s chest. It didn’t help that Harry was pulling more of his buttons undone.
Draco grabbed at Harry’s hands and said, “Wait. Wait.”
Harry froze scared about what kind of stop this would be. Did he go too far and scare Draco off? Damn, he thought he’d been pretty smooth just now too.
“If you’re gonna say my name for me, I don’t want other people hearing you,” Draco said raising a hand to hold the front of Harry’s neck, to keep his mouth a safe distance away. Harry relaxed and turned to look for his wand, before remembering Draco actually had it last.
“Where’d you drop it? Oh, could you pick the map up too? Think I just let go of it earlier.” Harry asked trying to see around Draco’s chest and arms that had boxed Harry against the wall. The shifting dragged friction across Draco’s crotch and his loud inhale drew Harry’s eyes back towards his face. Damn, he felt overheated and his face was definitely flushed now.
Draco turned to look at the floor, “Don’t know, just dropped it. I was busy,” Draco said focused on finding either of their wands on the floor so they could start kissing again and maybe get to something else.
“Busy? Were you distracted maybe?” Harry asked using the hand on Draco’s back to pull their hips back together.
“Yes,” Draco whispered through his teeth. “So stop being distracting.”
“Sorry, don’t know how,” Harry said playing innocent and using both hands to keep Draco’s hips in place now, fingers staying just above his ass barely under his waistband. Draco felt like each finger was heating his skin, like if this went on for too long he might combust and burn the closet down. The chosen one was an annoying tease.
“Potter,” Draco growled.
“Malfoy,” Harry said lightly.
Draco could hear the smirk without having to look.
“Help me find a wand,” Draco said with an impatient sort of anger in his voice.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry said in a pretend obedience that still got Draco worked up.
He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale, “You were supposed to wait until after I put the charms up.”
“I didn’t start yet, Draco,” Harry said lower this time. Draco stepped back pushing out of Harry’s hands and kept him at arms length by holding Harry’s shoulders.
“You’re insufferable,” Draco said and went back to searching the floor.
“Been called worse,” Harry said and Draco could feel his shoulders shrug. “By you actually,” Harry continued.
Without looking, Draco moved a hand to cover Harry’s mouth. He didn’t notice that Harry’s eyes widened or that he stopped baiting Draco; not because he couldn’t fight the hand off, but because he liked it where it was. Harry didn’t know what to do with that information, so he just froze.
In the quiet, Draco spotted Harry’s wand by his foot, half under an old filing cabinet, and bent down to get it. Harry followed Draco’s hand down, his eyes locked on Draco’s arm; it was stretched taut and his muscles pulled against the sleeve.
“Muffliato. Colloportus.”
Draco said the sound-proofing and locking charms still crouched, not bothering to stand before casting them. Draco was on the floor in front of Harry still covering his mouth and Harry was about to die from it all, especially with his shirt halfway ripped open and that normally pristine hair falling loose around his face.
Draco put the wand on one of the shelves built into the back wall and Harry watched his body stretch; arm, torso, thighs, all flexed. Draco finally seemed to realize where he was in relation to Harry. He looked up and Harry’s eyes were dark and focused and hungry, staring a hole into Draco.
He stayed crouched on the ground for a moment before he shifted onto his knees and lowered his hand to Harry’s chest while putting his other on Harry’s thigh.
“Find something you like, Harry?”
Harry was on his knees holding Draco’s face to his so fast Draco couldn’t even process it before they were kissing again. Harry started pushing against him again but Draco didn’t have him fixed against the wall anymore. They tilted back until Draco was sprawled out, propped up by his elbow with Harry straddling him.
Draco decided this was for the best and laid back the rest of the way, pulling Harry with him. Harry pulled his face back to break the kiss and instead stared into his eyes. He put his hands flat against the floor on either side of Draco’s head and slowly lowered himself onto Draco, with none of speed he had just used. He dropped a leg between Draco’s and slotted their legs back together, laid his hips down and let his stiffening cock rest against Draco’s upper thigh, and watched his eyes widen in realization. Then Harry lowered his stomach and chest onto him and kept his face above Draco’s; too high for him to kiss Harry first.
Draco was breathing hard and his eyes were getting dry from refusing to blink and miss one second of the ravenous look in Harry’s face. His hands were back on Harry both immediately going under his sweater.
“Draco,” Harry whispered right above his face and Draco bucked his hips up without thinking. He was getting hard now too and Harry pressed his thigh down into him to keep him in place. Draco moaned at the pressure and pulled Harry by the waist trying to get more. Harry finally lowered his head, and Draco lifted to meet him, but he turned his face and moved right past Draco’s mouth. Draco’s lips dropped into an impatient frown.
“Draco,” Harry whispered against his ear. He knew the only movement he could manage under Harry now was a bit of squirming and Draco would’ve died before giving him the satisfaction. Instead, his hands traveled across Harry’s back, up to his shoulders, and back down to his hips trying to release some kind of restless anticipation.
He kissed Draco right under the corner of his jaw and whispered, “Draco.” He could feel Harry’s lips form his name against his skin and he felt like he got hit with the lightning shock jinx Pansy was so good at. He desperately tried to arch his back off the floor but Harry pushed him back down still keeping his hips firmly against Draco’s.
Harry looked at him and all Draco could do was stare back.
“Draco,” Harry said in a reprimanding tone.
“Fuck me,” Draco said under his breath tilting his head up so he could look at the wall instead. He could feel Harry get closer again, his cheek brushing against his jaw.
“I’m trying to,” Harry whispered. He dragged his tongue in a thick hot line up Draco’s neck and felt him shiver underneath as he flicked the tip of it against his jaw.
Draco laid there confused for a moment until what he said registered and then what Harry said registered too. His breath hitched and his arms tensed around Harry crushing them even closer.
“Then do it faster,” Draco said.
He could feel where the laugh started in Harry’s chest and heard how breathy it was against his ear.
“No,” Harry said getting up and ripped Draco’s shirt the rest of the way open.
“Fuck’s sake, this shirt was expensive,” Draco said draping an arm over his eyes. He didn’t realize how that pulled the shirt enough to fall open, pooling under him on the floor, how exposed that left him. Harry sat across Draco’s thighs and tracked his eyes from Draco’s jaw to his neck, down to his collarbone, to the several freckles he had across his chest, to his abs that flexed with his hard breathing, and followed the few wispy white-blond hairs down to his waistband. His pants were starting to look too tight, and Harry’s head started to spin thinking about it.
Draco noticed how still Harry got and how his hands weren’t on him anymore and couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Was something wrong? Why had Harry stopped? He sneaked a peek from under his arm and saw immediately that there was no reason for doubt.
Harry’s hands hovered over him, fingers stretched out and dancing like he couldn’t possibly decide where to put them. Harry’s eyes darted over Draco like they were trying to memorize him. Draco smiled and rubbed his hands into Harry’s thighs, then grabbed Harry’s hands and pushed them down onto his chest.
This seemed to break Harry out of whatever trance he had been in, and he quickly leaned his weight into his hands and locked eyes with Draco.
“You want me so bad it makes you stupid,” Draco said smiling up at him, mocking him from earlier. He liked Harry’s weight leaning into him more than he cared to admit to himself.
“Yeah,” Harry breathed out.
Draco lost his breath all over again. Stupid, Potter; he wasn’t supposed to just admit it like that.