BDSM: A Love Story

Harry walked across the courtyard, tapping his Transfiguration notebook with his fingertips and wondering what to do for the rest of the afternoon. The logical thing, of course, would be to write his essay, or fill in his Divination charts, or do his Charms homework. Or, he reflected, he could go somewhere secluded, thereby avoiding his friends and Draco, and lounge about on the grass and possibly take a nap. It was a lovely afternoon, bright and sunny and just warm enough for comfortable lounging, so long as he found somewhere in the sunlight.

Besides, it was already October and who knew how many more nice days they would get before fall properly set in? It would practically be a crime to lock himself up in the library all day. Yes, he decided, heading for the grounds surrounding the castle. There was surely a nice patch of green grass with his name on it out there. He could sit and think and get his head together, and possibly even make a list of reasons why he would never, ever have sex with Draco Malfoy ever again.

He perked up. He’d at least be accomplishing something then. Mentally, he began composing the list.

A smile crossed his face as he stepped out of the shadows of the castle walls and into the brilliant sunlight. He squinted a little, looking over the grounds, at the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch and the lake. There was a small copse of trees that people liked to gather under, but the lakefront was otherwise deserted but for a few students sitting alone. He aimed for an area roughly equidistant to two of the students, and was setting his books down when he glanced to the left and realized one of them was Cho Chang.

He looked away, wondering if she had seen him, and torn about what to do. Should he say hello? Pretend he hadn’t seen her? He could feel a faint flush staining his cheeks already at the thought of speaking to her, and wondered if it would be better or worse if she ignored him entirely. Nervously, he glanced back at her.

She looked up. Their eyes met.

“Hey,” said Cho.

“Hi,” Harry said, waving at her stupidly, still halfway between standing and sitting.

She inclined her head, indicating that he should join her. The wind blew dark tendrils of hair into her face, obscuring her eyes for a moment, and she shifted, tucking her legs beneath her.

Harry sat down on the grass beside her, carefully setting his books down beside him. He straightened them casually, taking advantage of the distraction to quietly freak out. What was he supposed to say to her?

“How are you?” Cho asked, tucking her hair behind her ears. Her nails gleamed with silvery blue nail polish, clinking metallically against the small silver hoops in her earlobes.

“Good,” Harry responded, shifting uncomfortably. He had no idea what to do with his hands. There was a slight pause as Cho looked at him, and too late he realized he was supposed to elaborate, or at least ask her how she was doing.

She smiled hesitantly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for awhile now.”

“About what?”

“Well.” She looked at the ground. “I guess I just want to get to know you better.”

“Really?” Harry blurted out. “Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately. All year, actually.”

Cho blushed, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “I know. It’s just, things are complicated, you know? Between us.”

Harry’s mind ceased all function at the use of the term ‘us.’

“I mean, not that there is an ‘us’…”

Harry blinked at her. For some unfathomable reason, his heart was suddenly beating very, very fast.

“Right.” Cho hid her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. You make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Harry said incredulously.

Cho took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m going to be honest with you, Harry.”

“Okay,” he said blankly.

“It’s been a bit rough this year, for me, with losing Cedric and everything. And seeing you all the time, knowing…” She trailed off, seeing the color drain from Harry’s face. “This is coming out all wrong. Okay. I like you. That’s my main point. I think we should be friends. Possibly more than that.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Um?” he managed.

“And I’ll understand if you don’t,” she continued, biting her lip nervously, “but I know you liked me last year, and I liked you, even if I didn’t know you very well. And Cedric and I, we were dating, and I did like him a lot. But we were better off as friends. I knew that, and so did he. And we were great friends. I still miss him, I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him. But Harry,” she paused, looking at him. “Should I stop?”

“Please don’t,” Harry said fervently.

“Well,” Cho sighed. “I guess that’s it, anyway. I’ve been avoiding you, yes. But I’m not going to do that anymore, because life is short, and I think we both know that better than anyone our age should. So. Yes.” She bit her lip. “I’m going to stop talking now. You talk.”

Harry stared at her, still trying to process what she had said.

“Please,” Cho murmured, fiddling with the buttons on her cuffs. Her movements drew the white fabric tighter against her skin, outlining the bandage at her inner arm.

Harry’s mind raced at that, tripping from one thought to the next: he still didn’t know if Cho was a Death Eater, but she couldn’t have been, Malfoy wasn’t, oh god Malfoy. How had he completely forgotten about the guy he was sleeping with?

“Harry?” Cho said, concerned.

“I like you too,” Harry confessed. “I mean. Still.”

“Well that’s good,” Cho said encouragingly.

Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, Harry’s brain reminded him. Shut up, Harry said back. It’s not like we’re dating.

“I would like to get to know you better,” said Harry. Now this is where I tell her I can’t, because I’m with someone, Harry thought. Except I’m not.

Cho smiled.

Fuck, Harry thought.

“Okay, well, I should get going. I have a Muggle Studies essay to work on.” She made to stand up, then paused, crouching, and pulled up her gray knee socks. “Listen, we’re having a party after the Halloween feast. I mean the Ravenclaws are. Everyone’s invited, of course, but it would be really great if you came. Maybe we could meet there?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and then it occurred to him that it sounded an awful lot like a date. “I’ll be there.”

Cho grinned. “Great.” She stood, dusting stray blades of grass off of her skirt. “I’m sure I’ll see you before then.”

“Yeah,” Harry said again, smiling at her as she walked away with one last wave.

A date. He and Cho had a date. And he and Draco had some sort of relationship going on, the terms of which were still nebulous and undefined. And Cho could still be a Death Eater. It could all be a big trap. Plus, he kind of wanted to have sex with Draco again.

Fuck, Harry thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He sighed, lying down on his back. He really liked Cho. She was pretty, and sweet, and made his heart race. He honestly did want to get to know her better.

But he still felt irresistibly drawn to Draco. There was something about him- okay, maybe that something was the really enjoyable sex. But it was something that Harry couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting.

Harry rolled over onto his stomach, inhaling the slightly damp scent of grass. The sun heated his back, seeping though his shirt and raising goosebumps. Harry shivered, remembering the heat of Draco’s skin. He wanted to feel it again, and he wanted it badly.

He could always visit Draco again under the guise of demanding his cloak back. He was also vaguely certain of the areas that Draco patrolled on Prefect duty. Perhaps he could find Draco then.

Or perhaps he could just give up this ridiculous Malfoy habit (was it a habit now? Harry feared it was) and spend more time with Cho. Cho, who deserved to know what she was getting into wanting to date Harry. He shook his head. This was absurd. He had a date with the girl he’d had a crush on for ages, and a satisfying physical relationship with his worst rival. Obviously, the thing to do was keep each going as long as possible without the other finding out. It made perfect sense, really.

It was no different than test driving cars. It was essential to get a feel for each vehicle, to see which one was the most comfortable and gave the most satisfying ride.

Stop that metaphor, Harry ordered himself. Stop that right now.

With a sigh, he stood and he headed back to the castle.

The Gryffindor common room was alive with activity when Harry walked in. Several third years were gathered around a fourth year who seemed to be trying to turn water into wine. Ginny and Ron were playing Exploding Snap. Lavender and Parvati were doing each other’s makeup, drawing bright silver stars on each other’s cheekbones and enchanting them to twinkle. The Weasley twins were animatedly explaining something to Angelina and Katie, talking over each other and gesturing widely.

Harry waved at Ginny and Ron, stepping carefully over Seamus and Dean, who were rolling around on the floor, either wrestling or pretending they were wrestling in order to grope each other in public. He reached his room without further incident, pausing when he arrived at the door. There was a note attached to it, with his name written on it in looping black script.

Curiously, he unfolded and read it.

Harry,

I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you later. I’m having a problem and I think you can help me with it. Let me know.

Colin Creevey

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what possible problem Colin could have. The photograph incident of the previous day had left Harry equal parts curious and twitchy, with a side order of paranoid. He hoped Colin’s problem didn’t involve unrequited love or something. He cringed just thinking about it.

Later, he decided. He would go see Colin later, and hopefully his paranoia would be completely unfounded. Hopefully.

He pushed open the door, waving to Neville, who was lounging on the floor reading his Transfigurations textbook and absentmindedly petting a little squeaking sugarmouse. Neville waved back and popped the sugarmouse into his mouth.

Sighing, Harry threw himself onto his bed. He settled himself comfortably against his pillows, then dug through his schoolbag for a quill and parchment.

He could be reasonable about this; his life didn’t need to become infinitely more complicated just because he liked two people. It could be perfectly simple.

On the right side of the parchment, he wrote the name “Draco Malfoy.” On the left, “Cho Chang.”

Start out easy, he figured. Beneath Draco’s name, he wrote “Not a Death Eater (yet).” Under Cho’s: “Possibly a Death Eater.”

He kept on writing until the list reached the bottom of the parchment, then he paused and looked it over.

Harry blinked, having reached no conclusion to speak of except that he seemed to be quite disturbingly fond of settling down. Also, it wasn’t a good idea to think about how enjoyable he found sex with Draco when Draco wasn’t around for him to have sex with.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost time for dinner, which he didn’t fancy missing again. Perhaps he could accost Draco afterward and get his invisibility cloak back, or maybe drag him into a corridor and undress him slowly, running his fingertips over Draco’s hips and lightly kissing the skin right beneath his navel-

Right. Dinner.

Harry shut his eyes and thought of unsexy things until he felt sufficiently ready to venture out from behind the bed curtains. He folded the list up and shoved it beneath his mattress, then headed down to the Great Hall.

Hermione and Ron were already seated when he arrived and slid into the spot next to Hermione. He smiled at Ron, who greeted him with, “Where have you been all afternoon, huh?”

“Around,” Harry shrugged. “Outside.”

“Talking to Cho,” Hermione said wisely.

Harry stared at her. “How did you know that?”

“Apparently your love life is a hot topic around here. I don’t understand the interest, personally.”

“Well I do!” Ron said, sounding shocked. “What happened, then? Don’t hold out on us, Harry, we’re your friends.”

“We just talked!” Harry said.

“What did you talk about?” Ron prodded.

“They discussed the possibility of romance, and Cho asked him to the Ravenclaw Halloween party,” Hermione informed him.

Ron looked outraged. “How did you know all that?”

“Girls talk,” Hermione said nonchalantly, sipping her pumpkin juice.

“Well why don’t they talk to me?!” Ron demanded.

Hermione smiled at him gently, patting him on the shoulder. “There, there. They will someday.”

“That’s about all that happened, Ron,” Harry cut in, giving Ron (who was making incoherent noises of rage in Hermione’s general direction) an alarmed look.

“Right,” Ron said, still annoyed. “That’s all. Did you say yes?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He found himself blushing, inexplicably.

“Good for you, Harry.” Hermione smiled at him.

“How are things going with you and Viktor?” Harry asked her, eager to take the attention away from himself.

“Things are going splendidly, thank you,” Hermione said.

Ron looked irritated. “Is there anything else going on that you’re not telling me?” he asked suspiciously.

But Harry’s attention was focused on the Slytherin table across the room, where Draco was watching him, eyebrows raised. “What?” Harry asked distractedly.

“What are you looking at?” Ron glanced at the Slytherin table. “What’s Malfoy looking over here for? D’you think he’s planning something? Want me to kill him for you?”

“The Killing Curse is illegal,” Hermione said absentmindedly, absorbed in her meal.

“Bare hands then!” Ron said agreeably.

“I can handle Draco,” Harry said, watching as Draco stood up and left the Great Hall.

“What?!” Ron asked loudly.

“What?” Harry said, confused.

“Since when is he Draco?” Ron demanded, looking at Harry as if he’d sprouted another head.

“Since birth, I’d imagine,” Hermione said reflectively.

Ron opened his mouth as if to respond to that, then sighed loudly at her and turned back to Harry. “Well?”

“Er,” said Harry. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Right,” Ron said flatly. “You’ve been acting strangely lately, Harry.”

“I’ve just been preoccupied. You know. O.W.L.s and everything.”

Hermione looked pleased. “It’s good that you’re thinking about them, Harry. We can study together, if you’d like.”

“Maybe.” Harry set his fork down on his plate, which was still half full of food. “I should get started on my homework.” He stood and headed out, leaving Ron and Hermione watching him with identical expressions of slightly confused concern.

It wasn’t until Harry was standing outside of Draco’s door that he realized that he had no idea what to say to him. Should he tell him about Cho? Should he end the whole thing? Should he just ask for a shag and hope for the best?

Harry grimaced, knocking lightly at the door. Nervously, he glanced up and down the hallway, hoping no one would see him there. He knocked again, a bit louder this time.

Ten knocks later Harry was feeling distinctly put out. It’s was Draco’s room. He was supposed to be there. Irritated, Harry stalked back to Gryffindor Tower, clicking his heels violently against the stone and prompting a serene looking portrait of a woman with a parrot on her shoulder to ask him what the floor had ever done to him.

By the time he reached his room he was in quite a fervor, and mentally cursing everything from Draco to his Charms homework to Professor Snape (just on general principle), and finally settling for a general feeling of ill will toward everyone he had ever met. He threw the curtains of his bed aside and flung himself huffily onto the middle of the bed, on his way to a quality brooding session, and it was then that he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It shocked the angst right out of him, and in seconds he was pointing his wand in the general direction of the mysterious tap, his body tensed.

Then Draco Malfoy’s head appeared two inches in front of his wand, followed by the rest of him as Harry’s invisibility cloak slid off Draco’s shoulders and pooled around him on the bed.

“Hi,” Draco said.

Harry stared at him, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Gently, Draco pushed Harry’s wand down with the tip of his finger.

“Did I surprise you?” Draco asked innocently.

Suddenly alarmed, Harry covered Draco’s mouth with his hand. “What are you doing here? Do you know how much you’re risking showing up in my bed like this? How stupid are you?” he hissed.

Draco’s tongue flicked out, stroking up Harry’s palm. It tickled. Harry pulled his hand away. “Compared to what?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry resisted the urge to choke him.

“You don’t need to whisper,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. “I put up a silencing charm around the bed. I do occasionally think ahead, you know.”

“Yes. Right.” Harry glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning your cloak,” Draco said, shrugging.

“And how did you propose to return to your room without getting caught?” Harry demanded.

Draco looked thoughtful. “Remember how I only occasionally think ahead?”

Harry put his head in his hands.

“But, on the bright side,” Draco said, “now that it’s just you and me-“

“And my roommates!” Harry interjected.

“-we can discuss our relationship!” Draco finished gleefully.

“No we can’t.”

Draco looked put out. “But I have you cornered. You don’t get to decide.”

“I’ll sit here and stare off into the distance, ignoring every word you say,” Harry threatened. “I’ll pretend you aren’t here. I’ll do my homework.”

“You wouldn’t,” Draco said in a horrified tone.

“Try me,” Harry said smugly.

Draco seethed. “I hate you.”

Harry gave his best imitation of shock. “No.”

“Tell me how you feel about me,” Draco demanded. He crawled forward, pushing Harry onto his back.

“Presently?” Harry said as he propped himself up on his elbows, “I feel barely tolerant and I’d rather like to hurt you.”

Draco looked interested. “Really?”

“Well,” Harry said warily.

“You can, you know.” Idly, Draco ran a hand down Harry’s stomach, pushing up his shirt. “If you’d like.” One by one, he undid the buttons, scraping lightly at the skin of Harry’s chest.

Harry watched him, shivering slightly when Draco’s thumbs stroked his nipples. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you mean?”

“I mean you can hurt me,” said Draco, looking Harry in the eye. He slipped the shirt off Harry’s shoulders and leaned down to nip at his collarbone. “I mean,” he said softly, and kissed the sensitive spot behind Harry’s earlobe, “please.”

Harry pushed himself upward, shrugging off his shirt. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want-“ Draco started, but broke off as a loud knock sounded at the door.

They stilled, listening as door was opened.

“Hi, is Harry here?” Colin Creevey’s voice rang out as Harry and Draco looked at each other with identical expressions of horror.

“Yeah, I think he’s studying,” Seamus said helpfully. “He’s on his bed.”

Footsteps approached the bed far too rapidly as Colin called out, “Hey, Harry! It’s me, Colin. Did you get my note earlier?”

“Hold on a second, Colin!” Harry said, panicked, then remembered the Silencing Charm. He turned to Draco, hissed, “Get under the cloak and into the corner,” and then stuck his head out through the drapes and came face to face with the eager fourth-year. “Colin, hi! Hold on a second, let me clean up in here!”

“Okay, Harry!” Colin said cheerfully. “Did you get my note? And why are you cleaning up in there? What’s to clean up?”

“You know me, I’m a neat freak!” Harry said far too loudly. Behind him, Draco was making sure he was fully covered and trying to make himself as small as possible, scrunching up into the corner of the bed and throwing a pillow away from him so he didn’t give himself away by sitting on it and indenting it.

“No you’re not,” Seamus said, pausing on his way back to his own bed.

“It’s never too late to change your habits!” Harry said fiercely.

“Of course you’re right, Harry,” Colin said loyally. “It’s nice of you to tidy up for me.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry looked nervously at the corner of the bed, where all trace of Draco had vanished.

Colin looked behind him curiously. “Looks clean to me, Harry.”

“So Colin!” Harry pushed the curtains open, backing up so that he sat directly between Draco and Colin. “Sit down. You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” Colin said, and Harry thought he detected the faintest hint of a blush on Colin’s fair skin.

“What about?” Harry prompted.

“Um.” Colin seemed to be unable to meet Harry’s eyes, instead directing his gaze to somewhere in the vicinity of Harry’s collarbone.

With a sudden and deep feeling of foreboding, Harry glanced down and realized he was sitting there shirtless.

“Did I interrupt something?” Colin said faintly.

“No, no,” Harry said, raking a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s just hot in here. So.” He fumbled at the blankets, searching desperately for his shirt, which seemed to have conveniently disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Oh, no need to get dressed up on my account!” Colin still seemed unable to look Harry in the eye, and his fingers were clutching at his robes, digging into the fabric as if trying to stop them from twitching. His right pointer finger was tapping rapidly against his leg in the manner of someone desperate to pull the trigger, or, Harry thought, someone who wanted very much to be capturing the moment on film. “I mean, it is hot in here, Harry. You definitely look hot. I mean,” Colin rushed on, “hot in the sense of heat. Like you’re hot. I mean, overheated. Can I photograph you sometime?”

“You photograph me all the time,” Harry pointed out.

“Right,” Colin said, deflated.

Harry could hear extremely muffled snickers coming from behind him. He shifted, trying to make enough noise to hopefully distract Colin’s attention away from it. “Is that what you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Well, no.” Colin twisted his hands, looking unbearably nervous.

“You said you had a problem, right?” Harry recalled. “What’s the problem?”

“Right! The problem. Which is.” He coughed. “What do you do when you like someone?”

Shag them, Harry thought promptly, but figured that wouldn’t be a very good answer. Especially since he seemed more likely to shag people he despised. “You mean romantically?”

“Yeah.” Colin picked idly at the blankets, staring at his hands and occasionally glancing at Harry’s stomach.

“Well,” Harry started uncomfortably. “I don’t really tend to like people that often.” He jumped slightly as he felt the bed shift slightly behind him, and a cloth-covered finger run slowly up his spine.

“Oh,” Colin said, then perked. “But you do like people sometimes, right? Like Parvati- you went to the Yule Ball with her, didn’t you? And,” he continued hesitantly, “Cho Chang?”

The finger at Harry’s back stilled. “Um,” Harry said, rocking back in an attempt to make Draco move away. Draco stayed put, and gripped Harry’s bare shoulder blade with two fingers, clearly threatening to pinch.

“Have you ever liked someone unattainable?” Colin asked.

“I don’t think anyone’s really unattainable, Colin,” Harry said hesitantly. The fingers eased away, resuming their careful stroking up and down his back. “I mean, you’d really be surprised.”

“Would I?” Colin asked hopefully.

“I’m sure-“ Harry started, then twitched as Draco poked him sharply. “Ow.” Colin gave him a concerned look. “I mean, how. How do you know this person is unattainable?”

“Well, he- this person is kind of,” Colin stumbled, “kind of famous? Not famous, I mean. Popular.”

Harry was beginning to feel extremely nervous about where this conversation was going.

“What would you do, Harry? Would you tell them?”

Draco’s fingers were tensed at Harry’s back, and Harry was horrified to realize that he could feel the cloak sliding upward. His horror increased as he felt nails scratch lightly at his back. “No,” Harry said, shivering.

“You wouldn’t tell them?” Colin asked, sounding disappointed.

“Absolutely not.” Harry squirmed as he felt Draco’s tongue trace over his naked skin. “You just,” he swallowed, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, “you have to let things happen sometimes.”

“Oh.” The crestfallen look in Colin’s eyes was almost too much for Harry to bear. “Okay. Well, thanks Harry.” He stood up.

“Sure. Good luck.” Draco was busy laying small kisses at the base of Harry’s spine, and Harry wanted very much to arch forward.

Colin headed for the door, with one final wave in Harry’s direction. “Thanks, I’ll need it,” he said, and then he left.

Harry pulled the curtains shut so fast that they nearly detached. “What do you think you were doing?” he demanded, grabbing a handful of the cloak and pulling it off Draco.

“Creevey fancies you,” Draco responded, looking as if he was desperately battling the urge to laugh. “What it lacks in shock value it makes up for in pure amusement factor.”

“Well he doesn’t have a chance,” Harry groused. “And you, with your distracting me and trying to get yourself caught. Do you want Ron to find you here? Because he already offered to kill you with his bare hands once today, and I think he was only half-joking.”

“I’m trembling in fear. Really.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Please oh please protect me from the Weasel and his shaking fist of doom.”

“That’s funny,” Harry said flatly. “So very very funny. Why are you still here?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day,” Draco said unexpectedly, and leaned forward, and did just that.

Harry kissed him back, charmed against his will. Draco’s predilection for sarcasm often made it difficult for Harry to discern when Draco really meant what he was saying, and so increased the effectiveness of Draco’s rare displays of sincerity. Grinning slightly, Harry pulled away. “So there’s your kiss. Are you going to leave me to my homework now?”

“Did I say kiss?” Draco improvised. “I meant have a lot of sex with. An easy slip to make, really.”

“Really,” Harry said dryly. “Well I wouldn’t bank on a lot if I were you. I’m not altogether okay with the idea of doing this in my room.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Well, roommates, you know. Not the aphrodisiac you’d expect.”

“Especially yours,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose. “Yet despite the horrifying turn this conversation has taken, it seems your mere presence has still left me with this hard-on issue.” He gestured apologetically to his lap, where his trousers were stretched tight across an obvious bulge.

“You’d be under the cloak,” Harry pointed out. “No one would see it.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “You know, Potter, the fact that I like you doesn’t mean that I don’t also hate you and want you dead. Please, keep testing my patience. I’m sure you’ll look as lovely as I did last year with tentacles.”

Harry snickered. “You are kinky, Malfoy.”

Draco reached for his wand.

Unable to hold back any longer, Harry cracked up. “You are so easy it almost isn’t fun. And you whine more than any person I’ve ever met, do you know that?”

“Okay,” Draco muttered. With an exasperated sigh, he started undoing his trousers, pushing them down over his hips and wrapping his long fingers around his cock.

Harry sobered instantly. “What are you doing?”

“Well, since you’ll clearly be no help in this area, I’m forced to take matters into my own hands.” Draco paused, disgusted. “Look at this, Potter. Look how far you’ve pushed me, to bad puns and tossing myself off. I hope you’re happy, you heartless bastard.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Harry said hurriedly, unable to look away from Draco’s hand, slowly pumping up and down his cock. “Now that you mention it, I realize that I’m also in the mood for, um. This.”

“Oh, how gratifying, we’ve finally reached the end of the obnoxious banter portion of the evening.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Now we can bring on the awkward fumbling and eventual gratification.”

“Do you want a blowjob or not?” Harry said, irked by the awkward fumbling remark. “And I’m finding the eventual gratification to be a bit of an exaggeration-”

“What exactly are you implying?” Draco cut him off.

“You know exactly what I’m implying,” Harry said challengingly.

Draco stilled, releasing his erection with what looked like extreme reluctance. “I can last as long as you can.”

“Right,” Harry said skeptically. “Come here.”

Looking torn, Draco crawled a bit nearer to him. “This conversation had better end in an orgasm.”

Harry tugged off his own trousers, scooting closer to Draco. He took Draco’s cock in hand, giving it a few strokes. “I bet I can make you come first.”

“What are the terms?” Draco said shrewdly, sliding his fingers lightly up Harry’s erection.

Harry thought it over. “Just hands below the waist. Loser has to take a forfeit.”

“What’s the forfeit?”

“Winner’s choice.”

Draco grinned ferally. “Let’s go.” He started stroking a second before Harry did, trying his best to climb into Harry’s lap but defeated by Harry’s efforts to do the same to him. He dipped his head down, dragging his tongue over Harry’s nipple and tightening his grip.

“Ah, not fair,” Harry gasped, squirming against the heat of Draco’s mouth as he sucked at Harry’s nipple. He threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair, tugging hard. Draco writhed against him, and Harry triumphantly pulled harder, forcing Draco away from him. “Want me to hurt you, right?” he murmured. He jerked feverishly at Draco’s erection, teasing him. He pulled Draco’s head to the side, baring the pale white line of his throat.

“Yes,” Draco whispered, sounding on the verge of desperate tears. “Please, yes…” He trailed off, speeding up his movements to match Harry’s pace. His other hand dug into Harry’s back, fingertips pressed in hard, encouraging Harry to lower him to the bed.

Harry complied, pushing Draco down and sucking at his neck. “Do you want me to bite you? Mark you?” Without waiting for a response, he nipped at Draco’s neck, lightly sinking his teeth into the thin stretch of skin where Draco’s pulse beat wildly against his lips. Draco gasped at that, jerking upward and digging his nails into Harry’s back, thrusting erratically into Harry’s hand.

“Scar me,” Draco said, shuddering as he tried to keep up with Harry’s rhythm and losing it again as Harry bit down harder.

Harry could feel himself on the verge, dizzy and desperate and so tense he thought he might shatter, snap into a thousand frantic pieces and leave Draco dusted with the bright glittering shards of himself. The slide of Draco’s body beneath him, the taste of sweat and slight bitterness of a bruise about to burst beneath the skin, and Draco’s low pleading were sending him spiraling toward the edge of something that he knew he would die without if he didn’t reach it soon.

“Hurt me,” Draco cried, “scar me,” he said senselessly, and then he threw his head back and begged (there was no other word for it), “fuck me.”

Harry came, thrusting mindlessly into Draco’s fist, barely keeping his grip on Draco’s still straining erection. He stared into Draco’s wide grey eyes, at his flushed cheeks, bitten reddish lips, at the sweaty strands of hair skimming his wet eyelashes. Draco’s words echoed in his mind and he marveled that each time could be this good, that every time was somehow better than the last, and that the one thing in the world that he wanted more than anything was to do what Draco asked.

Harry kept stroking, raising his fingers to Draco’s lips, pressing against his mouth until Draco opened for him, sucking on his fingertips and relaxing his jaw to accommodate two of Harry’s fingers as he pushed them into Draco’s mouth. Draco sucked them eagerly, letting out a little cry of disappointment when Harry pulled them out. Shakily, Harry tugged him upward, coaxing Draco forward to straddle his lap.

“Please,” Draco murmured, arching forward into Harry, who slid his hand down to Draco’s ass and stroked tentatively at his entrance. “Please,” he whispered, burying his face in Harry’s neck and trembling slightly against him.

Carefully, Harry pushed a finger inside. Draco tensed and gasped, tightening his grasp on Harry’s shoulders. After a moment, he relaxed, and Harry slowly pressed further in, still stroking Draco’s cock, faster as Draco adjusted and pushed back against him, and then asked for more.

Harry drew out his finger and then thrust it back in, once, twice, and then slid the tip of his middle finger in to join the other. Draco exhaled heavily, his breath escaping in a drawn-out hiss as Harry pushed in further, thrusting shallowly in and out until two fingers were fully buried in Draco.

Draco’s erection was pressed between their stomachs, caught in Harry’s grip as Draco pushed against Harry, thrusting forward into his hand and backward onto his fingers. He couldn’t get much leverage, but what little he had was more than enough to establish a rhythm as he rode Harry’s twisting fingers, his nails digging sharply into Harry’s back, tearing at the skin as he cried out Harry’s name.

Then Harry twisted his fingers up, and Draco jerked violently against him, gasping as Harry hit his most sensitive spot. With a sob, he came, thrusting violently into Harry’s hand and attempting to impale himself on Harry’s insistent fingers.

As Draco’s shudders slowed, Harry slowly withdrew, rubbing his sticky hands over Draco’s hips, sliding up to rub his back as Draco’s breathing returned to normal.

Draco slumped against him weakly. “I win,” he managed.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, equally breathlessly.

“I want you to do whatever I ask of you.” Draco swallowed, raising his head to look Harry in the eye. “For one night. Everything I ask.”

“Okay.”

Satisfied, Draco rested his head back on Harry’s shoulder.

“We really should have done this in your room,” Harry said after awhile.

With a sigh, Draco moved away from Harry’s body with some difficulty. “Yes, we should have.” He began putting his clothes back on reluctantly, and ran a hand through his hair.

“So when do you want to do this? The I’m-your-slave thing,” Harry inquired.

Draco shrugged. “Tomorrow? After dinner, maybe? I’ll want you all night.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Draco smiled at him, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “And by the way, I won.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, you did. You beat me at something. Bravo. Well done.”

“Nor do I ever plan on letting you forget it.”

“This is me shocked and amazed,” Harry deadpanned.

“This is me gleeful and planning,” Draco said, grinning.

Harry suddenly felt very nervous.

“Everything I ask, Potter.” Draco’s grin turned faintly maniacal, and Harry fought not to shiver. “See you tomorrow.” He pulled the invisibility cloak over his head and crept out quietly.

“Why the hell did the door just open and shut on its own?” Seamus asked a minute later, sounding puzzled. “Harry? Was that you?”

“I’m right here, Seamus. It must have been the wind,” Harry said loudly.

“What wind?” Seamus muttered, and then was silent.

Harry slipped into his pajamas and tried to ignore the feeling that he had agreed to do something really, really, unwise.