Tale Kayler (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
talekayler) wrote2011-05-21 06:14 pm
talekayler) wrote2011-05-21 06:14 pm
Precipice: Over the Edge With You (part 2 of 2)
First off, I want to apologise over how long it took to get this out. I had hoped to have it up days ago! But… RL happened, and I found myself on a flight a few days later back to my parents. So I’m here now, and posting this while I can before I am taken away this evening.
Also, my desk here is the perfect height for me to take a nap on. *puts head down and falls asleep instantly*
Title: Precipice: Over the Edge With You (part 2 of 2)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
talekayler
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 3052
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Explanations are hard to wrangle out from someone who has no desire to reveal. It takes good luck - and a locked storeroom - get them them.
A/N: Written fromskriftlig’s prompt of ‘crumpled paper’. Forgive me for any mistakes and the like!
--
When Harry appeared in the office – at an obscene time of the morning, mind you – everything was how he remembered it. Their desks faced each other in the generously sized office; Draco’s tidy and neat, Harry’s an organized chaos with bits of crumpled parchment shoved off to the corner. Draco sat behind his desk, calmly writing up a report. His head was bent low, his hair obscuring his face in a way Harry didn’t think was accidental.
“Morning,” he said, crossing the room to his desk. Draco didn’t look up, but he did say something that could be passed off as a cordial greeting.
“Draco,” he said, and Draco shoved back in his chair, standing so abruptly that his chair teetered on its back two legs before falling back into position.
“I found out the curse,” Draco said, rounding his desk and shuffling together a few sheets of parchment. He handed one to Harry. It was covered in Draco’s elegant writing, top to bottom and squeezed in together in a way that made Harry recall homework assignments of Hermione’s. And just like hers, he could make neither heads nor tails of this.
He waved it around. “What is this?”
Draco grabbed the parchment from his hand and smoothed it out over the desk. “This, Potter, is valuable information on Verto of tela, or ‘turn of the cloth’. And it’s exactly what I told you before, if you had listened.” He shot Harry a scathing glance. At another time, in a similar situation, Draco’s look would have been more amused, more ‘You just like to hear me speak.’
Draco sounded weary and irritated at having to explain himself again. “Whatever the victim is wearing at the moment, the curse turns it all against him or her until the objects are removed or the victim goes mad. It had been used as a form of punishment long ago. Most don’t even know what they’ve been hit with.”
Harry leant back against his desk, watching as Draco sifted through parchments and lifted various books. Draco looked over at him eventually, a frown pulling tightly at the corners of his mouth.
“If you think I’m doing your share of the paperwork –”
“What was with you this morning?” Harry interrupted him.
Draco froze for the barest of moments, before he was back to shuffling already perfectly organised papers together. “That’s not really fair, is it?” he continued as if Harry had never spoken. “You still haven’t done the work from when I was out of commission. Two weeks ago, might I add.”
“You left in a right hurry,” Harry said, ignoring him. “You left this behind.” He pulled Draco’s cloak out of his robe pocket, the cloak growing in size as he withdrew it from its safe spot. Draco stopped and turned to face him, his face far to pale.
He reached out for his cloak, but Harry pulled it away from his fingertips. “Why did you leave so quickly?”
Draco’s fingers curled and he his hand dropped to his side. His glare was venomous, and he met Harry’s eyes full force this time. Harry was baffled. How could Draco go from grinding against him to shooting him death glares in the space of forty-five minutes? Of course, there was the little fact that this was Draco.
Draco darted a look off to the door that still stood wide open from Harry’s entrance. “Look, I can’t tell you,” he said hastily, and Harry had to wonder if it was can’t or won’t. Harry hadn’t seen him looking this nervous in all the time that they had been partners. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, and strode towards the door, towards an escape that Harry knew that if Draco took, he’d never find any answers.
Harry grabbed Draco’s arm before he got the opportunity to storm out of the room. “Auror partners are supposed to trust each other.” He could feel Draco shaking against where he gripped him. “What did I do?”
Draco jerked away. “It’s not always about you. Some things concern more then just you, surprisingly.”
Harry’s arm fell, loose and open at his side as opposed to Draco’s tightly curled fists. “And what? What about all those things you’ve said – that I’ve said?”
“Words are words. It’s the actions that matter.” He was once more avoiding looking at Harry, instead staring at the crumpled balls of parchment that littered the surface of Harry’s desk.
“Then stop running,” Harry told him. Draco’s eyes locked on his.
“A bit too late,” he said. And then he was gone, before Harry could say anything else.
~*~
The office seemed unnaturally cold and silent after Draco’s departure, leaving Harry feeling a miffed. Draco somehow managed to evade Harry when he had gone after him, disappearing down the corridor like a shadow. Avoiding Harry should be impossible, but of course Draco would be able to pull it off.
Harry knew his only chance to get anything out of Draco would be at the Ministry. The quicker he acted, the better chance he had. He didn’t want to give Draco time to come up with something, or to distract him.
There was always one place Draco tended to go in the Ministry when he needed space. Be it an argument with Harry, trying to solve a problem or trying to calm down after a case, Draco always ended up in the potion storeroom. Harry thought it was something to do with familiarity, how potions are always what they are once brewed or distilled, something Draco knew he had stability in.
The door collided with the wall with such force that it caused the phials in the storeroom to shake, the clink of glass on glass a ringing cacophony. Harry didn’t know where Draco was in the vast room exactly, but damned if he was going to allow him an escape rout. He secured the door behind him with wards and hoped that there wasn’t anyone else in the room.
He found Draco towards the back, hunched over a table, palms flat against the surface and his head hanging. It looked as if he had run a hand through his hair one too many times, making it stick up a little in the back. Harry had an urge to reach out and smooth it down.
As if sensing he was no longer alone, Draco spun around. His eyes widened when he saw Harry. “How did you–”
“I know you frequent this place. Just because I never followed you in or talked about it doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”
Draco looked a little surprised at that, before he reverted to an indifferent mask. He turned his back to Harry, fiddling with the potions spread out on the surface of the table. There was a time when Draco didn’t need that mask around Harry. His fist clenched.
“Can you at least look at me when we talk?” Harry hoped it wouldn’t be worse.
Draco turned around and huffed. “What did you want? There’s nothing you need to know or anything that you can change.”
Harry pushed Draco back, corralling him to the other side of the table and pushing him into the wall, standing close so as to not give Draco the opportunity to twist away. “The hell I can’t. You need to tell me what’s going on, because I know it’s not as simple as you’re playing it off as.”
Draco didn’t bother asking You’re not going to give this up, are you? and Harry didn’t think it was necessary to respond with No fucking way. Instead, Draco broke eye contact with Harry and stared determinedly at his shoulder.
“Draco, if I have to, I’ll–”
“It was a mistake, alright?” Draco burst out, stopping Harry from saying anything else. “I didn’t think I’d slip like that, or I thought I’d be able to keep control and have things remain the way they have been.”
“Why would you want things to stay the same?” Harry pushed, backing Draco back up against the wall when he tried to wiggle out.
Draco didn’t answer right away, his arms coming up and folding together and Harry could see him pulling away. He clasped a hand on Draco’s shoulder, trying to keep him from retreating.
“Because you seemed fine with the way things were,” Draco said in a quiet voce. “It took this long for us to get this far, and I didn’t want to think on how much longer it would take to get even further, or if it would ever happen. How was I supposed to know if you really wanted it or not?”
“Of course I wanted it,” Harry defended.
“You had just endured an outdated curse, drank copious amount of very fine alcohol and then proceeded to fall into bed nude where you proceeded to feel after effects of said curse. I knew you would be hung over in the morning, and probably dealing with the shock of actually getting hit by a curse. Invincible Potter,” he sneered. “I wasn’t going to take advantage of you, or allow myself to be used as a one time comfort fuck.”
“A one time…? I don’t think it would have been a one time thing, Draco,” Harry said, and pressed closer. Draco flattened himself against the wall. “Everything indicates it would have been far more then that.”
“Fine, maybe it would have been.” Draco was flushed, his breaths heavy and uneven. Harry watched his tongue dart out and wet his lips. “But even still, there are things to consider.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Harry and he moved forwards, pressing himself to Draco from thigh to chest, and mashed their mouths together. Draco made a startled sound before his hands came up, not to push Harry away like he thought, but to clutch at Harry’s hips. There was a soft moan, and Harry wasn’t sure which one of them it had come from, and neither did he care. He moved away just enough to gentle the kiss, encouraging Draco to open his mouth with teasing flicks of his tongue. In the moment it took Draco to do so, Harry had decided that Draco was thinking too much and that it was his job to make it impossible for them to think.
He used their proximity to rub himself against Draco, rubbing his length over Draco’s thigh, an erection that had persisted from the start of the morning. Draco bucked into it, hands fisting in the robes at either side of Harry’s waist. Harry felt him shift, spreading his feet apart and allowing room for Harry’s thigh to slide in between them. Harry pressed forwards, cupping Draco’s jaw and sliding a hand into his hair, pulling Draco closer. Their mouths moved together easily, and the combination of hot and wet and a taste so completely Draco made Harry want more, made him never want to stop.
He brought them down to the floor of the storeroom, positioning himself above Draco in a reverse of how they had been splayed out shortly before. His hand fumbled with the clasps to Draco’s robe, and then the trousers beneath that, the constant movement of Draco’s hips making it difficult to get the material parted. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss in order to get a look at what he was doing.
Draco’s hands released their hold on Harry’s robe, coming up instead to remove his glasses. He tossed them off to the side, where they landed with a clatter across the room. He then tugged Harry down by his hair, shoving his tongue back into Harry’s mouth. Harry groaned, abandoning his plan for getting Draco’s trousers undone in favour of grinding against him. He could feel Draco growing harder against his thigh, heard the noises he was making in the back of his throat, and lost himself in the sensations.
He leveraged himself up until he was looking down at Draco, his hands planted on either side of Draco’s head. With a slight twitch of his hips, he had Draco arching up to meet him. His head was thrown back, blond hair spilling out over the floor and his eyes were clenched shut, his hands never loosening their hold on Harry’s hair. Harry shifted, flicking the clasp to Draco’s trousers open with ease this time.
Draco reciprocated, undoing the zip on Harry’s denims and biting at his lip, looking as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening. He lifted his hips a little when Harry tried tugging down his trousers, and bucked when Harry snuck a hand under the waist of Draco’s pants.
Draco squeezed his eyes closed again, but Harry wasn’t about to have that. “Look at me,” he said, leaning down to kiss the tip of Draco’s nose. He gently stroked his hand over the length of Draco’s cock, squeezing the base and playing with the foreskin. Draco gasped and looked up at Harry.
“You can’t–”
“I can and I will,” Harry cut him off. He shoved his hips forward, into where Draco still had his hand resting over Harry’s erection. He felt Draco’s hand twitch, applying the barest of pressures. He moved his hips forward again, moving into Draco’s hand and trying to encourage him to move it, match Harry stroke for stroke. Draco got the message eventually, meeting Harry’s stare. He tugged a little Harry’s jeans to lower the material a bit, and shoved his hand in until he was able to grasp a hold of Harry’s cock.
Harry rocked forward, rewarding Draco with a stroke of his own and swiping his thumb over the tip of Draco’s cock. Despite Draco’s hesitations, he stroked in tandem with Harry, all the while trying to lower Harry’s denims.
Harry sat back on his heels to pull Draco’s trousers and pants down until they were tangled around his ankles, then shimmied out of his own clothes. Draco watched him, sitting up on his elbows and staring at Harry, watching avidly as Harry’s cock bobbed in the air. Harry saw him lick his lips, and he grinned.
“Later,” he said, pressing Draco back down. He aligned them up, griping both of their erections in his hand and gave them a rough stroke. Draco hissed and writhed, his own hand coming up and adding his own strokes.
“Potter,” he moaned, his head falling off to the side as he gasped for air.
“No,” Harry said, leaning over and trailing the tip of his nose down Draco’s cheek. He could feel the scrape of stubble, smell the faint cologne Draco wore and the tang of sweat. He skated his hips across Draco’s cheekbone, down the side of his face and nipped Draco’s earlobe. “Harry.”
“H-Harry,” Draco repeated. Harry heard him swallow, felt him tense and relax and shudder under his touch. He tried nudging Draco, trying to get his to turn his face back to centre, back so they were facing each other. Draco moved with him, shoving a hand back into Harry’s hair and tugging, his nails scraping across Harry’s scalp and sending shivers down his spine. Harry moved his hand faster, the both of them arching into the hold he held on their cocks, his hand bumping against Draco’s on every other stroke.
Draco arched into his hold, his hand tugging at Harry’s hair and pulling on the strands until they were panting into each other’s mouths, swallowing each others’ cries as they came.
Harry rolled over so he wasn’t crushing Draco, breathing in deeply and trying to regain his breathing. “Everything will work itself out,” Harry reassured him between pants. “And you’re not going into this alone.”
“Things always tend to work out around you, don’t they?” Draco said, looking over at Harry across the small portion of floor between them.
Harry smiled. “Yeah. I have lots of good luck.”
“I’m not apologising, Potter,” Draco said, and sat up with a groan. He rubbed his neck and proceeded to dig through the pockets of his robe that was spilled around him for his wand. Finding it, he waved it over them, cleaning away their ejaculate and the dust from the floor that had attached itself to them. He wrinkled his nose.
“You don’t have to,” Harry said, standing up and pulling his jeans back into place. “Though you’re a right idiot sometimes.”
Draco glowered at him, but took his hand when Harry offered it. Harry pulled him up, then pulled him close until he held Draco securely in his arms. “Not letting you go,” he breathed into Draco’s ear. He felt Draco shiver from where they touched, felt the tickle of blond hair against his nose.
“Good,” Draco said, after a moments pause. “But we’d better get out of here before someone comes looking or tries to get in here.”
Harry gave a regretful sigh and released Draco. Draco didn’t pull away that quickly though, pressing closer to Harry for just a little bit longer before moving away. “Right,” he said, and headed for the door.
The door didn’t open, though, when Draco tried the handle, nor did it unlock when he cast Alohomora and a number of other spells. “What spells did you use on this door, Potter?” Draco asked, looking back at Harry.
Harry came up behind Draco, pressing against his back as they stared at the door. “Regular locking and warding charms, silencing spells and the like. Why?”
Draco huffed. “Well, whatever you used combined with one of the spells in place on the door already, to keep any explosions contained. We’ll have to wait until one of the wardens comes back and releases the wards. Unless you can undo level eight wards?” He looked over his shoulder at Harry, lifting an eyebrow.
“Um… no. No, not yet.”
“Well that’s just great,” Draco said and smoothed down his robes. “We’ll have to wait for someone to come release the wards.”
Harry looked over at Draco, still a little dishevelled despite his best work. His hair was loose and tangled around his ears, his cloak still a little awry where it clung to his frame. Harry thought he could see a red mark beginning on Draco’s neck, barely being covered by his robe. He grinned lasciviously.
“Want to go again?”
fin
Also, my desk here is the perfect height for me to take a nap on. *puts head down and falls asleep instantly*
Title: Precipice: Over the Edge With You (part 2 of 2)
Author:
talekaylerCharacters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 3052
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Explanations are hard to wrangle out from someone who has no desire to reveal. It takes good luck - and a locked storeroom - get them them.
A/N: Written from
skriftlig’s prompt of ‘crumpled paper’. Forgive me for any mistakes and the like!--
When Harry appeared in the office – at an obscene time of the morning, mind you – everything was how he remembered it. Their desks faced each other in the generously sized office; Draco’s tidy and neat, Harry’s an organized chaos with bits of crumpled parchment shoved off to the corner. Draco sat behind his desk, calmly writing up a report. His head was bent low, his hair obscuring his face in a way Harry didn’t think was accidental.
“Morning,” he said, crossing the room to his desk. Draco didn’t look up, but he did say something that could be passed off as a cordial greeting.
“Draco,” he said, and Draco shoved back in his chair, standing so abruptly that his chair teetered on its back two legs before falling back into position.
“I found out the curse,” Draco said, rounding his desk and shuffling together a few sheets of parchment. He handed one to Harry. It was covered in Draco’s elegant writing, top to bottom and squeezed in together in a way that made Harry recall homework assignments of Hermione’s. And just like hers, he could make neither heads nor tails of this.
He waved it around. “What is this?”
Draco grabbed the parchment from his hand and smoothed it out over the desk. “This, Potter, is valuable information on Verto of tela, or ‘turn of the cloth’. And it’s exactly what I told you before, if you had listened.” He shot Harry a scathing glance. At another time, in a similar situation, Draco’s look would have been more amused, more ‘You just like to hear me speak.’
Draco sounded weary and irritated at having to explain himself again. “Whatever the victim is wearing at the moment, the curse turns it all against him or her until the objects are removed or the victim goes mad. It had been used as a form of punishment long ago. Most don’t even know what they’ve been hit with.”
Harry leant back against his desk, watching as Draco sifted through parchments and lifted various books. Draco looked over at him eventually, a frown pulling tightly at the corners of his mouth.
“If you think I’m doing your share of the paperwork –”
“What was with you this morning?” Harry interrupted him.
Draco froze for the barest of moments, before he was back to shuffling already perfectly organised papers together. “That’s not really fair, is it?” he continued as if Harry had never spoken. “You still haven’t done the work from when I was out of commission. Two weeks ago, might I add.”
“You left in a right hurry,” Harry said, ignoring him. “You left this behind.” He pulled Draco’s cloak out of his robe pocket, the cloak growing in size as he withdrew it from its safe spot. Draco stopped and turned to face him, his face far to pale.
He reached out for his cloak, but Harry pulled it away from his fingertips. “Why did you leave so quickly?”
Draco’s fingers curled and he his hand dropped to his side. His glare was venomous, and he met Harry’s eyes full force this time. Harry was baffled. How could Draco go from grinding against him to shooting him death glares in the space of forty-five minutes? Of course, there was the little fact that this was Draco.
Draco darted a look off to the door that still stood wide open from Harry’s entrance. “Look, I can’t tell you,” he said hastily, and Harry had to wonder if it was can’t or won’t. Harry hadn’t seen him looking this nervous in all the time that they had been partners. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said, and strode towards the door, towards an escape that Harry knew that if Draco took, he’d never find any answers.
Harry grabbed Draco’s arm before he got the opportunity to storm out of the room. “Auror partners are supposed to trust each other.” He could feel Draco shaking against where he gripped him. “What did I do?”
Draco jerked away. “It’s not always about you. Some things concern more then just you, surprisingly.”
Harry’s arm fell, loose and open at his side as opposed to Draco’s tightly curled fists. “And what? What about all those things you’ve said – that I’ve said?”
“Words are words. It’s the actions that matter.” He was once more avoiding looking at Harry, instead staring at the crumpled balls of parchment that littered the surface of Harry’s desk.
“Then stop running,” Harry told him. Draco’s eyes locked on his.
“A bit too late,” he said. And then he was gone, before Harry could say anything else.
The office seemed unnaturally cold and silent after Draco’s departure, leaving Harry feeling a miffed. Draco somehow managed to evade Harry when he had gone after him, disappearing down the corridor like a shadow. Avoiding Harry should be impossible, but of course Draco would be able to pull it off.
Harry knew his only chance to get anything out of Draco would be at the Ministry. The quicker he acted, the better chance he had. He didn’t want to give Draco time to come up with something, or to distract him.
There was always one place Draco tended to go in the Ministry when he needed space. Be it an argument with Harry, trying to solve a problem or trying to calm down after a case, Draco always ended up in the potion storeroom. Harry thought it was something to do with familiarity, how potions are always what they are once brewed or distilled, something Draco knew he had stability in.
The door collided with the wall with such force that it caused the phials in the storeroom to shake, the clink of glass on glass a ringing cacophony. Harry didn’t know where Draco was in the vast room exactly, but damned if he was going to allow him an escape rout. He secured the door behind him with wards and hoped that there wasn’t anyone else in the room.
He found Draco towards the back, hunched over a table, palms flat against the surface and his head hanging. It looked as if he had run a hand through his hair one too many times, making it stick up a little in the back. Harry had an urge to reach out and smooth it down.
As if sensing he was no longer alone, Draco spun around. His eyes widened when he saw Harry. “How did you–”
“I know you frequent this place. Just because I never followed you in or talked about it doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”
Draco looked a little surprised at that, before he reverted to an indifferent mask. He turned his back to Harry, fiddling with the potions spread out on the surface of the table. There was a time when Draco didn’t need that mask around Harry. His fist clenched.
“Can you at least look at me when we talk?” Harry hoped it wouldn’t be worse.
Draco turned around and huffed. “What did you want? There’s nothing you need to know or anything that you can change.”
Harry pushed Draco back, corralling him to the other side of the table and pushing him into the wall, standing close so as to not give Draco the opportunity to twist away. “The hell I can’t. You need to tell me what’s going on, because I know it’s not as simple as you’re playing it off as.”
Draco didn’t bother asking You’re not going to give this up, are you? and Harry didn’t think it was necessary to respond with No fucking way. Instead, Draco broke eye contact with Harry and stared determinedly at his shoulder.
“Draco, if I have to, I’ll–”
“It was a mistake, alright?” Draco burst out, stopping Harry from saying anything else. “I didn’t think I’d slip like that, or I thought I’d be able to keep control and have things remain the way they have been.”
“Why would you want things to stay the same?” Harry pushed, backing Draco back up against the wall when he tried to wiggle out.
Draco didn’t answer right away, his arms coming up and folding together and Harry could see him pulling away. He clasped a hand on Draco’s shoulder, trying to keep him from retreating.
“Because you seemed fine with the way things were,” Draco said in a quiet voce. “It took this long for us to get this far, and I didn’t want to think on how much longer it would take to get even further, or if it would ever happen. How was I supposed to know if you really wanted it or not?”
“Of course I wanted it,” Harry defended.
“You had just endured an outdated curse, drank copious amount of very fine alcohol and then proceeded to fall into bed nude where you proceeded to feel after effects of said curse. I knew you would be hung over in the morning, and probably dealing with the shock of actually getting hit by a curse. Invincible Potter,” he sneered. “I wasn’t going to take advantage of you, or allow myself to be used as a one time comfort fuck.”
“A one time…? I don’t think it would have been a one time thing, Draco,” Harry said, and pressed closer. Draco flattened himself against the wall. “Everything indicates it would have been far more then that.”
“Fine, maybe it would have been.” Draco was flushed, his breaths heavy and uneven. Harry watched his tongue dart out and wet his lips. “But even still, there are things to consider.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Harry and he moved forwards, pressing himself to Draco from thigh to chest, and mashed their mouths together. Draco made a startled sound before his hands came up, not to push Harry away like he thought, but to clutch at Harry’s hips. There was a soft moan, and Harry wasn’t sure which one of them it had come from, and neither did he care. He moved away just enough to gentle the kiss, encouraging Draco to open his mouth with teasing flicks of his tongue. In the moment it took Draco to do so, Harry had decided that Draco was thinking too much and that it was his job to make it impossible for them to think.
He used their proximity to rub himself against Draco, rubbing his length over Draco’s thigh, an erection that had persisted from the start of the morning. Draco bucked into it, hands fisting in the robes at either side of Harry’s waist. Harry felt him shift, spreading his feet apart and allowing room for Harry’s thigh to slide in between them. Harry pressed forwards, cupping Draco’s jaw and sliding a hand into his hair, pulling Draco closer. Their mouths moved together easily, and the combination of hot and wet and a taste so completely Draco made Harry want more, made him never want to stop.
He brought them down to the floor of the storeroom, positioning himself above Draco in a reverse of how they had been splayed out shortly before. His hand fumbled with the clasps to Draco’s robe, and then the trousers beneath that, the constant movement of Draco’s hips making it difficult to get the material parted. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss in order to get a look at what he was doing.
Draco’s hands released their hold on Harry’s robe, coming up instead to remove his glasses. He tossed them off to the side, where they landed with a clatter across the room. He then tugged Harry down by his hair, shoving his tongue back into Harry’s mouth. Harry groaned, abandoning his plan for getting Draco’s trousers undone in favour of grinding against him. He could feel Draco growing harder against his thigh, heard the noises he was making in the back of his throat, and lost himself in the sensations.
He leveraged himself up until he was looking down at Draco, his hands planted on either side of Draco’s head. With a slight twitch of his hips, he had Draco arching up to meet him. His head was thrown back, blond hair spilling out over the floor and his eyes were clenched shut, his hands never loosening their hold on Harry’s hair. Harry shifted, flicking the clasp to Draco’s trousers open with ease this time.
Draco reciprocated, undoing the zip on Harry’s denims and biting at his lip, looking as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening. He lifted his hips a little when Harry tried tugging down his trousers, and bucked when Harry snuck a hand under the waist of Draco’s pants.
Draco squeezed his eyes closed again, but Harry wasn’t about to have that. “Look at me,” he said, leaning down to kiss the tip of Draco’s nose. He gently stroked his hand over the length of Draco’s cock, squeezing the base and playing with the foreskin. Draco gasped and looked up at Harry.
“You can’t–”
“I can and I will,” Harry cut him off. He shoved his hips forward, into where Draco still had his hand resting over Harry’s erection. He felt Draco’s hand twitch, applying the barest of pressures. He moved his hips forward again, moving into Draco’s hand and trying to encourage him to move it, match Harry stroke for stroke. Draco got the message eventually, meeting Harry’s stare. He tugged a little Harry’s jeans to lower the material a bit, and shoved his hand in until he was able to grasp a hold of Harry’s cock.
Harry rocked forward, rewarding Draco with a stroke of his own and swiping his thumb over the tip of Draco’s cock. Despite Draco’s hesitations, he stroked in tandem with Harry, all the while trying to lower Harry’s denims.
Harry sat back on his heels to pull Draco’s trousers and pants down until they were tangled around his ankles, then shimmied out of his own clothes. Draco watched him, sitting up on his elbows and staring at Harry, watching avidly as Harry’s cock bobbed in the air. Harry saw him lick his lips, and he grinned.
“Later,” he said, pressing Draco back down. He aligned them up, griping both of their erections in his hand and gave them a rough stroke. Draco hissed and writhed, his own hand coming up and adding his own strokes.
“Potter,” he moaned, his head falling off to the side as he gasped for air.
“No,” Harry said, leaning over and trailing the tip of his nose down Draco’s cheek. He could feel the scrape of stubble, smell the faint cologne Draco wore and the tang of sweat. He skated his hips across Draco’s cheekbone, down the side of his face and nipped Draco’s earlobe. “Harry.”
“H-Harry,” Draco repeated. Harry heard him swallow, felt him tense and relax and shudder under his touch. He tried nudging Draco, trying to get his to turn his face back to centre, back so they were facing each other. Draco moved with him, shoving a hand back into Harry’s hair and tugging, his nails scraping across Harry’s scalp and sending shivers down his spine. Harry moved his hand faster, the both of them arching into the hold he held on their cocks, his hand bumping against Draco’s on every other stroke.
Draco arched into his hold, his hand tugging at Harry’s hair and pulling on the strands until they were panting into each other’s mouths, swallowing each others’ cries as they came.
Harry rolled over so he wasn’t crushing Draco, breathing in deeply and trying to regain his breathing. “Everything will work itself out,” Harry reassured him between pants. “And you’re not going into this alone.”
“Things always tend to work out around you, don’t they?” Draco said, looking over at Harry across the small portion of floor between them.
Harry smiled. “Yeah. I have lots of good luck.”
“I’m not apologising, Potter,” Draco said, and sat up with a groan. He rubbed his neck and proceeded to dig through the pockets of his robe that was spilled around him for his wand. Finding it, he waved it over them, cleaning away their ejaculate and the dust from the floor that had attached itself to them. He wrinkled his nose.
“You don’t have to,” Harry said, standing up and pulling his jeans back into place. “Though you’re a right idiot sometimes.”
Draco glowered at him, but took his hand when Harry offered it. Harry pulled him up, then pulled him close until he held Draco securely in his arms. “Not letting you go,” he breathed into Draco’s ear. He felt Draco shiver from where they touched, felt the tickle of blond hair against his nose.
“Good,” Draco said, after a moments pause. “But we’d better get out of here before someone comes looking or tries to get in here.”
Harry gave a regretful sigh and released Draco. Draco didn’t pull away that quickly though, pressing closer to Harry for just a little bit longer before moving away. “Right,” he said, and headed for the door.
The door didn’t open, though, when Draco tried the handle, nor did it unlock when he cast Alohomora and a number of other spells. “What spells did you use on this door, Potter?” Draco asked, looking back at Harry.
Harry came up behind Draco, pressing against his back as they stared at the door. “Regular locking and warding charms, silencing spells and the like. Why?”
Draco huffed. “Well, whatever you used combined with one of the spells in place on the door already, to keep any explosions contained. We’ll have to wait until one of the wardens comes back and releases the wards. Unless you can undo level eight wards?” He looked over his shoulder at Harry, lifting an eyebrow.
“Um… no. No, not yet.”
“Well that’s just great,” Draco said and smoothed down his robes. “We’ll have to wait for someone to come release the wards.”
Harry looked over at Draco, still a little dishevelled despite his best work. His hair was loose and tangled around his ears, his cloak still a little awry where it clung to his frame. Harry thought he could see a red mark beginning on Draco’s neck, barely being covered by his robe. He grinned lasciviously.
“Want to go again?”
fin