Archive of Our Own

It was a sight he’d never tire of, irredeemable proof that he was helplessly, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with his roommate. 

Harry leaned against the doorjamb, resting his weary limbs and watching Draco, who hadn’t clocked his presence just yet. The wireless was on, tuned to a Muggle music station that Harry had mistakenly introduced Draco to when they moved in together just about a year ago. Draco, as it turned out, loved popular music. 

He warbled and bopped around their shared kitchen, using his wand as a conductor’s baton in between casting cooking spells. Somehow, he was singing louder than the blaring speakers on the wireless. Harry stifled a laugh as Draco tried to harmonise with Leona Lewis.

Draco whipped his head around, clutching his chest. “Potter, you scared me!” He shot a mild stinging hex at Harry’s thigh, too quick for him to dodge. 

“Ow, hey! It’s not my fault you’re delivering the performance of a lifetime and couldn’t hear me!” 

Draco blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. He pouted before turning the volume down. The skinny jeans Draco had stolen from Harry a few months ago hugged his arse perfectly, and Harry tried not to let his eyes linger.

“What are you making?” Harry pushed away from the doorframe and wandered further into the kitchen. 

Draco swung his hips back and forth to the music as he added onions to a sauté pan. “Korma! I went down to see Mrs Jha at lunch and she gave me her recipe. I know you prefer something spicier but if we have to share—”

“You learned how to make this… for me?”

Draco didn’t look at him, but Harry could see the frown in his profile. “Well, yes, I suppose you could say that. I don’t know how good it will be, and I picked up some veg samosa to reheat, because I wasn’t going to attempt those tonight.”

Harry paused for half a breath and then steeled himself, taking a few bold steps forward and pressing his chest against Draco’s back, tentatively resting his hands on Draco’s hips. His thumbs lingered over the delicate skin of his hip bones, which Draco’s cropped T-shirt left exposed. Harry matched the rhythm of the music even as Draco’s movement stuttered.

“H—Harry? What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.” Even with the aroma of the spices filling the kitchen, Harry was close enough to smell the citrusy scent of the fancy French shampoo Draco had imported on a monthly basis. 

Draco cast a spell for the wooden spoon to take over the stirring and spun in Harry’s arms, draping his arms loosely over Harry’s shoulders. His cheeks were a little pink from the heat, his eyes bright and only slightly suspicious.

“Why are you dancing with me?” 

“Because I want to?”

“Yes, but why?”

Harry tugged him a bit closer, clasping his hands behind Draco’s back. “Because you’re making me dinner, and… you’re very handsome?”

“Harry,” Draco scoffed, though it felt half-hearted. 

“Draco,” Harry mocked him, grinning. 

“I’m not handsome. At least not under this garish fluorescent lighting. And it’s just dinner.”

“You’re handsome despite the garish lighting. And… well, maybe I want more than dinner.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Dessert?” 

“Dancing. And maybe, if I’m lucky, we can do… that thing we never do sober?” He knew Draco understood; it was almost comical the regularity at which they’d drunkenly fooled around following tequila shots at the bar or the club.

Draco ducked his chin, laughing softly. “I think we have a bottle of Patrón on the bar cart.”

Harry stopped. “No, I mean I want to do it intentionally. Without the tequila, that is.”

Draco’s eyes widened, his eyebrows disappearing into the fringe of hair that fell over his forehead. The radio personality’s grating voice was introducing a slow song, and Harry lured Draco in closer, sparing him from having to respond. Their heights were evenly matched—convenient for sharing jeans—and Harry pressed their cheeks together, his stubble against Draco’s downy skin, rocking them lazily back and forth.

Draco whispered into Harry’s neck, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Well, probably?” 

“Words aren’t your strong suit.”

“No, I think we could argue that playing Quidditch is my strong suit.” 

“And defeating egomaniacal dark wizards.”

Harry shook his head, careful to keep his cheek against Draco’s as they swayed. “Dumb luck, that was.” 

Draco chuckled, the vibrations from his chest humming pleasantly against Harry’s. He pulled away slightly, searching Harry’s eyes with an unreadable expression. Harry was patient, waiting for Draco to come to whatever conclusion he was looking for. His eyes darted down to Harry’s lips and back up to meet his gaze, and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it slowly between his teeth. 

Draco’s hands left Harry’s shoulders, cupping the back of his neck. Harry heard Draco’s breath hitch as his eyelids fluttered shut, and he leaned in. 

The kiss was slow, worlds apart from the sloppy fumblings they’d shared in the past. Draco’s lips fit perfectly with his own, and Harry swore his magic sent sparks skittering all over the surface of his skin. It was over before Harry knew it. 

When Draco pulled back, there was a crease between his eyebrows that Harry wanted to kiss away. He considered chasing Draco’s lips for a moment, pinning him against the counter, but that crease gave him pause. “What—what’s wrong?”

Draco stepped out of his embrace and turned back to the hob, taking over the stirring once again. “I don’t think I can do this, Harry.”

Harry shook his head, taken aback. “Why not?”

Draco added garlic, ginger, and chicken to the pan along with a flourish of spices, taking his time to respond. “I’m not really built for casual relationships. I know that it’s awfully bold of me to say that, seeing that we’ve been fucking for a few months now, but… I just can’t do it.”

Harry frowned. “Who said anything about casual?”

Draco jerked his head over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Harry stepped back, hoisting himself up onto the counter, one of Draco’s pet-peeves that he regularly poked at. “Well, I like you.” 

Draco turned back to the stove, silent again, stewing while stirring. He fiddled with his nose ring, which Harry knew he did when he was nervous. 

“If you don’t like me, we can just forget I said anything,” Harry continued, playing with the fraying cuff of his hoodie. 

“You don’t like me.” Draco hadn’t turned to look at him.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You might think you do, because we have good sex.”

“It’s great sex.”

Draco shot a look over his shoulder, smirking. “It is pretty great, isn’t it?”

“But that’s not why I like you.” 

Draco sighed, ignoring him, turning back to the hob. “It’s just a fleeting thing. We shouldn’t mess up our friendship because you got a little sex-drunk.”

“It’s not fleeting. It’s… been a while.”

“Since we started having sex, sure.”

“Longer. Draco, would you just look at me?”

Draco turned the heat down on the korma and faced Harry, who reached out and reeled him in between where his legs swung down from the counter. 

Draco fingered the strings from the neck of Harry’s hoodie. “How long?”

Harry watched his nimble fingers worry the metal-tipped ends of the strings. “Longer than I’d care to admit.”

Grey eyes finally met his own, searching. “You’re serious.”

“I’m Harry.”

Draco rolled his eyes and his whole head rotated with them, groaning. “Why do I like you? You’re so lame.”

Harry locked his ankles together behind Draco and squeezed his thighs, trapping him. “You like me! How embarrassing for you!” 

Draco’s smirk softened into a small smile. “Merlin, I actually do. It’s been torture, getting to have you so fleetingly and then pretending like everything is normal.”

Harry gasped. “You’re the one who leaves my bed every time!”

“What, you expected me to wake up next to you? To know what you look like when you first open your eyes? No, thank you!”

Harry smiled and bit his lip. “So, are we doing this?”

Draco nodded tightly. Harry leaned in slowly, eager to feel Draco’s smile against his lips. 

Pop. The korma gurgled, breaking the moment, and Draco jumped back, running his hands nervously through his hair. “Fuck,” he exhaled shakily, attending to the korma. “Can we press pause on,” he gestured back at Harry, “this? I worked really hard on this dinner and I want to enjoy it fresh.” 

Harry hopped off the counter, brushing his lips over the downy skin above the collar of Draco’s shirt at his nape, a tease that earned a sharp inhale from Draco. “Sure. I’ll set the table.” 

“That was delicious,” Harry said, pushing back from the table and knocking his knee against Draco’s. He left it there, the warm pressure of Draco’s leg grounding him. “I would eat another bowl.”

Draco grinned, looking like the cat that got the cream. “I’ll have to stop down tomorrow and tell Mrs Jha what a success it was.” 

Harry's hand crept across the table, lacing his fingers with Draco’s. “Thank you. That was really special.”

“If I had known that korma was what it would take to get you to admit your feelings, I would have done it sooner.” 

Harry laughed and started clearing their plates. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s wrist. 

“You cooked, I’ll clean. It’ll just be a minute. You can come join me, if you want?”

The routine spells helped to calm the snidgets in Harry’s stomach. Draco was humming along to the song on the wireless again, wrapping up the leftovers. In virtually no time at all, the kitchen was clean again, the lingering scent of toasted spices in the air the only sign that they’d cooked that evening. 

Turning to face Draco, Harry grasped at what to do next. “I’m nervous,” he admitted.

Draco smirked, though it lacked any malice. “Harry Potter, captain of the Appleby Arrows, Saviour of the Wizarding World, felled by a blonde twat in his own kitchen.”

“Hey! That’s my twat you’re talking about.” The tension easing, Harry hauled Draco in, one hand at his hip, the other holding Draco’s against his heart. 

Draco laughed. “Merlin, I must’ve been more drunk than I thought.” He swivelled his hips suggestively, and Harry’s laugh caught in his throat.

Harry swayed them slowly in time with the music, dizzy with anticipation. Draco seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move, his eyes flickering back and forth between Harry’s eyes and his lips. Harry tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against Draco’s. He rubbed their noses together. Time stood still. 

Harry was sure Draco could hear the thudding of his heart as he closed the gap between them, his eyes fluttering closed. Fireworks burst on the back of his eyelids as their lips slotted together. Harry’s kiss broke into a smile against Draco’s lips, unable to contain his joy. 

Draco kissed him back, coaxing his lips apart hungrily. He tasted minty, like he’d cast a breath-freshening charm when Harry wasn’t looking. The metal of his septum piercing was cold against Harry’s upper lip. He ghosted his broom-calloused fingers over Draco’s soft skin, pleased to feel the gooseflesh he’d provoked. 

Draco ran his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, and he stifled a moan into Draco’s mouth, his tongue racing out to slide alongside Draco’s. He backed Draco up against the counter, planting a thigh between Draco’s legs. Draco arched his hips, rubbing his hard-on against Harry’s groin. Draco’s groan matched Harry’s as their kisses grew more desperate. 

Through the fog of pleasure, Harry had a fleeting thought. “Can we go to the bedroom?” he whispered against Draco’s lips. 

Draco pulled back. “Yours or mine?”

They stumbled down the hallway, giggling as Harry got stuck trying to pull his hoodie and vest over his head at the same time. “Hang on,” Draco said, laughing and trying to untangle Harry. Once free, Harry shoved him up against the wall, rattling the picture frames and their inhabitants. He latched onto Draco’s neck, sucking on his pulse point. 

“Harry,” Draco whined, grasping at Harry’s sides with his icy fingertips. Harry shuddered.

“Draco.” He hauled Draco up, pinning him against the wall as he wrapped Draco’s legs around his back, trapping his cock against Harry’s abdomen. He resumed their journey to a bed, passing Draco’s bedroom door in favour of his own.

“I remembered to make my bed this morning, Potter. Can we say the same about you?” Draco teased, nosing Harry’s head away from his neck and back up to his lips. 

“My sheets are softer,” Harry said, punctuating the words with soft pecks to Draco’s lips. 

Draco hummed as Harry fumbled with the doorknob and nearly tripped into his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on a light, the still-setting sun providing enough for him to see clearly. His windows were open, a warm breeze fluttering through the curtains. 

Harry stepped up to the bed and sat Draco down on it, rucking his jumper up and over his head. Draco’s pale skin glowed against the dark blue comforter as he lay back, making grabby hands for Harry to join him. Harry covered Draco’s body with his own as they snogged lazily. 

“Don’t want to rush this,” Harry admitted. 

“Feels sort of like our first time,” Draco said, positively angelic despite the massive erection he was grinding against Harry’s hip. The words sent a shiver down Harry’s spine, his magic crackling in his veins. 

Harry hummed. “What do you want to do?”

Draco ran his thumb over Harry’s jawline, tilting his head pensively. “I want to suck you until you’re incoherent.” He kissed Harry sweetly, as if his words hadn’t caused Harry to lose his grasp on the English language. “Then I want you to rim me—you seemed to quite enjoy that, if I recall correctly.” Harry flashed back to the last time they’d fucked and how sloppy it had been, resolving to do better. “Then I want you to fuck me until I scream.”

“Fuck,” was all Harry could muster.

“I should put up silencing charms,” Draco said nonchalantly, reaching under himself to grab his wand out of his back pocket and doing just that. “We can go from there?”

Harry nodded dumbly, letting Draco roll him onto his back. As he straddled Harry, he ran his fingers through Harry’s curls. “I like you so much.”

Grinning, Harry thrust his hips up, bucking Draco forward for another searing kiss. “Like you more.”

Draco pushed off the bed, hastily undoing Harry’s jeans and pulling them off along with his pants before dropping his own set to the floor. Harry scooted further back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Draco pushed Harry’s knees open, making room for himself to settle between his legs. Studying Harry’s cock, he licked the underside of the head. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure ping-ponging around Harry’s limbs.

“Ah,” Harry whimpered, fisting the sheets. Draco grinned up at him, amused, repeating the action. “Ah!”

“So, not long before you’re incoherent?” Draco swirled his tongue around the head before taking it into his mouth. He fisted the base of Harry’s cock, bringing his mouth down to meet his hand. 

Harry threaded his fingers through Draco’s hair, pulling ever so slightly. Draco hummed appreciatively around his cock, closing his eyes. 

“Fuck, you look so good,” Harry muttered.

Draco pulled off with a pop. “Want to be good for you.” 

An approving moan escaped Harry’s lips. He watched as Draco bobbed up and down on his cock, maintaining eye contact. Their connection felt heady, pleasure flooding Harry’s body. The sight was better than anything he’d come up with during his daydreams.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, nudging Draco away. “You have to stop or I’m going to come.”

Draco sank down one final time, sucking in his cheeks as he pulled off. Harry curled upwards at the sensation, fingers tightening in Draco’s hair.

Draco crawled up the bed, leaving messy kisses along Harry’s torso before reaching his lips. Harry held him close and turned them over, pressing Draco into the mattress. “I’m going to take my time opening you up.”

“Mmm,” Draco murmured. “Step two.” 

Harry kissed him for a moment, giddy that he could, and then manhandled him into turning over, before nudging a pillow under his hips.

“Such a gentleman,” Draco teased. Harry nipped him for the insolence, biting and kissing his way down Draco’s back. He leaned back on his haunches and spread Draco’s cheeks apart, exposing his furled hole. Blurry memories of sinking inside of Draco came back to him briefly, his cock twitching at the memory. 

Licking a broad stripe up Draco’s crease, he inhaled, Draco’s familiar musk making him salivate. 

“Breathe,” he whispered, tonguing at Draco’s hole. He heard Draco exhale, all of his muscles releasing ever so slightly. He pressed a finger against Draco’s rim delicately, allowing it to relax enough for him to push in. 

“Hips up,” he requested, and Draco complied. Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock and pulled it down towards him. “Is this uncomfortable?” 

“Nnnh,” Draco moaned into the pillow, settling his hips back down. Harry grinned, pumping Draco’s cock slowly with one hand, using the other to pull his cheeks apart. 

Harry prided himself on his dedication. He took his time with Draco as promised, alternating between fingers and his tongue, licking and sucking and rubbing until Draco was a writhing, moaning mess under him. He stopped stroking Draco’s cock at one point, instead just using his fingers as a makeshift cock ring. 

“You’re not going to come until I’m deep inside of you,” he promised against Draco’s skin. The only response he got was a groan, which felt acceptable given the circumstances. 

He’d been ignoring his own pleasure in favour of Draco’s, but it hadn’t done anything to stave off the low-level arousal simmering just below the surface of his skin. 

“Harry,” Draco pleaded as Harry fucked three fingers into him. “Please, please fuck me.”

Pulling out, Harry placed one more open-mouthed, dirty kiss over Draco’s arsehole, delighting in Draco’s scream. He trailed a line of kisses up Draco’s spine, but Draco was already spinning in his arms, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. He threw one leg over Harry’s hips, rutting his cock against any skin he could find.

“Fuck,” Harry chuckled. 

“You’re so bloody good at that,” Draco gasped out between sloppy kisses. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, gently tugging his head back against the pillow to study his face. 

Draco looked as though he’d already been fucked, his face and chest flushed red and splotchy, his normally perfect hair a mess. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” Harry blurted out. 

Draco arched up to kiss him, threading his hands through Harry’s hair and using it to pull them back together. The breeze ghosted over Harry’s sweaty skin, a welcome addition to the proceedings. 

“Fuck me,” Draco moaned against Harry’s lips. 

“Like this?” Harry pushed Draco back against the bed, caging him in between his forearms. 

“Mmmm,” Draco agreed, dropping his knees to grant him more room. Harry lubed up his cock, slathering the leftovers around Draco’s rim. 

“You ready?” Harry breathed, lining himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against the space under Draco’s balls. He looked up to see Draco nodding at him, wide-eyed. 

He pressed gently into Draco, his breath hitching as the head of his cock popped past Draco’s rim. The lube and his thorough preparation made for a smooth thrust all the way in, his balls finally coming to a rest against Draco’s arse. Draco looked as though he’d had the breath punched out of him. 

“Good?” Harry whispered. 

“Fucking great,” Draco replied, his nails scrabbling at Harry’s sides. “C’mon, Harry.” 

Harry drew back slowly, savouring the squeeze around his cock before thrusting forward again, setting a slow, brutal pace. He fought his body’s instinct to hammer away, trying to stave off his orgasm for as long as possible.

Draco’s eyes were squinted shut, one hand fisted around his cock. “Okay?” Harry panted, slowing his hips.

Draco’s eyes flew open. “Harry, don’t stop, don’t stop.” 

It was Harry’s turn to lose his breath, as he resumed his previous pacing. “You feel so good.” 

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Draco chanted, starting to wank himself. Harry thrust deeper, angling his cock to better hit Draco’s prostate. His toes curled as his orgasm started to build. 

“Draco, fuck,” he said as Draco let out a long, low cry. Harry felt Draco’s orgasm as much as he saw it, his arsehole seizing around Harry’s cock as he started to come in spurts over his chest. 

The sight was enough to send Harry careening over the edge after him, his hips stuttering as he began to empty himself in the tight clutch of Draco’s arse. “Fuuuuuck.” 

He kept thrusting half-heartedly, chasing the last of his orgasm, his overstimulated cock riding the edge of pain and pleasure. Draco went boneless under him, melting into the mattress, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes as Harry slowed to a stop, collapsing on top of him.

They were silent for a moment, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the room. 

Draco turned his head slightly, uncovering his eyes and kissing Harry softly before pulling back to look at him. “Best yet,” he said, his words liquid as they melted from his mouth.

Harry smiled at him softly, humming in agreement. “I’ll get up in a minute.”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s back. “No rush. Like it when you lie on top of me.”

“Too heavy,” Harry protested.

Draco squeezed his middle. “Nnh nnh. Like it when you squish me. Can I sleep here tonight?”

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.” Harry knew he had the dopiest grin on his face, but couldn’t bring himself to care. “Gonna get a flannel, I’ll be right back.” Draco whined but let him go. 

In the bathroom, Harry looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the love bite on his neck, the scratches on his sides. 

“You look good on me,” he told Draco as he climbed back onto the bed, using the warm flannel to gently clean Draco’s delicate skin. 

Draco thumbed over the hickey, smirking. “I do. I’ll vanish it in the morning.”

Harry grabbed his wrist, shaking his head. “Not a chance.” 

Draco looked like he was trying not to smile, but was failing miserably. “Your teammates are going to see.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. “Let them.” He settled down, pulling Draco to his side. As Draco nestled against his chest, he whispered a warming charm that settled over both of them. 

Harry’s thoughts as he dozed off were safe, and right, and home.

Harry woke slowly to the sounds of birds chirping outside the window. He shifted closer to the warm body in his bed, blinking slowly. 

“See? Devastating,” Draco whispered, pushing the hair away from Harry’s face. “I couldn’t be expected to walk around with this image in my head and not want to kiss you every moment of every day.”

Harry dragged him closer, pressing his lips against Draco’s chastely. “How long have you been awake?”

“A little while.”

“You’ve just been watching me sleep?”

“Creepy, huh.”

Harry huffed a laugh, rolling onto his back and stretching, his muscles complaining from yesterday’s gruelling practice and the previous night’s activities with Draco. 

Draco traced his fingers over Harry’s chest, twirling his chest hair and tweaking his left nipple. Harry’s eyes drifted shut, content. “I like waking up next to you,” he murmured.

Turning his head, he found Draco watching him. Instead of the snarky answer he expected, Draco just said, “Me too.” Harry smiled fondly at him, grazing the soft skin of the dimples on Draco’s lower back.

Draco rolled off of Harry’s arm to the side of the bed, stretching his long limbs as he sat up. Harry was content to watch, checking out the love bites he’d left as evidence that last night had really happened. 

Draco plucked Harry’s jersey off the floor and held it to his nose before pulling it over his head. Harry’s chest bloomed with pride, his heartbeat kicking up a notch at the sight of Draco with “Potter” emblazoned across his shoulder blades. 

“Sap,” Draco said, not even bothering to turn around.

Harry hummed. “No argument. I like you wearing my clothes.”

Draco spun, holding the collar up to his nose. “It smells like you.”

Harry crawled to the edge of the mattress. “Come back to bed.”

“I’ll be right back, Potter, hold your hippogriffs.” Harry’s jersey barely covered his arse, the bottoms of his arsecheeks peeking out as he left the room. 

He was back a few minutes later, nudging Harry, who had dozed off again. “Tea, Harry. Come on.”

Harry grumbled but sat up, arranging his pillows at the top of the bed before accepting the mug and rubbing his eyes with his other fist. Draco curled in next to him, sipping at his tea. Harry rubbed his foot against Draco’s, a small act of intimacy that felt so right. They were both quiet.

“People are going to talk, you know.” Draco stared at their entangled lower limbs.

“Let them.” Harry was getting a glimpse of what life with Draco could be like as more than roommates, and it was too good to imagine letting it go now. “Pansy will be happy.”

Draco snorted and affected Pansy’s accent. “Draco, finally. I thought I was going to have to hear you going on about Potter’s bedhead on my deathbed.”

Harry laughed, turning to put his tea on the pile of books on his bedside table. He scooted down, draping an arm over Draco and resting his head against his chest. “I don’t care what people say, Draco. I like you, and if you’re willing to give this a try, then I am, too.” He skimmed Draco’s skin with his thumb lazily. 

Draco combed his fingers through Harry’s curls. “I am. I do want this. You.”

“Now who’s the one having trouble with their words?”

Draco chuckled and leaned over to set his own mug down. He shifted down the bed, rearranging their bodies to lie nose to nose with Harry, their legs wrapped together, their upper bodies bracketing their hearts and this delicate thing between them. 

“How long?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed, resisting the urge to look away. “Since Gin and Pansy’s wedding.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That’s not that long.”

“That was three years ago!” 

Draco huffed. “Since sixth year.” 

Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Draco.”

“I know, it’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’ve been pining after you all this time. It was the first time you came back to school looking like you’d actually eaten something.”

Harry huffed. “Only because I spent most of it at the Burrow.”

“I know that now. You had this angsty teenager thing going on and I liked it.”

“You’re one to talk. All broody and mysterious.”

“I was carrying out a task for the Dark Lord!”

“Ew, let’s not call him that in bed. Or ever, maybe.”

Draco shifted closer to Harry, grazing his fingers over the locket-shaped scar in the middle of Harry’s chest. “Obviously I didn’t know you then like I know you now. It’s different now.” 

Harry’s gaze lingered over Draco fondly. He was so unguarded, the morning light softening his features. “So why do you like me now?”

“Because you’re thoughtful,” Draco said, his eyes snapping back up to Harry’s as he realised what he’d said. “Potter, you’re fishing.”

“I’m not!” Harry curled his hand around Draco’s neck, resting his thumb against his pulse point, Draco’s heart beating a steady rhythm. “I’ll tell you why I like you.”

Draco reached up to wrap his fingers around Harry’s wrist, anchoring him. “Okay,” he said after a moment.

“Because you’re thoughtful.”

“That was mine!” Draco said, jostling Harry playfully.

Harry laughed. “Because you’re smart. I love watching you puzzle out a problem, like you’re teasing at a snag. You get this wrinkle between your eyebrows.”

“Do not!” Draco let go of Harry’s wrist to rub at the non-existent wrinkle.

“Because you’re handsome.”

“Even in fluorescent.”

“Especially in fluorescent,” Harry teased. He leaned forward to peck Draco on the lips, unable to wait another moment. “You’re funny. You’re compassionate. Your arse looks amazing in my jeans.”

“They’re my jeans now, Harry.”

Harry ignored him. “Because you always leave me a mug of tea in the morning if you leave before I do. Because I love the way you let go after a few shots of tequila. Because you taste like honey.”

He kissed Draco again, curling their tongues together. Honey. 

His cock began to take interest in the proceedings, fattening against Draco’s thigh. 

“What else?” 

“Now who’s fishing?” 

Draco smiled, inching his hips closer. “Me. I like compliments.” 

Harry chuckled, pushing Draco’s shoulder back against the pillows. Draco’s eyes sparkled in the light, fractals of crystal blues and greys that Harry felt like getting lost in. He kissed him on the forehead instead. 

“Your eyes. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He dipped his head to press a kiss under Draco’s ear. “The way you squirm under me.” And down his neck to his collarbone, pulling the collar of his jersey aside. “That you’re always cold. I want to keep you warm.”

Draco hummed, the sound vibrating against Harry’s lips as he nipped at Draco’s neck. He dragged his chin over Draco’s shoulder, the rasp of his stubble bringing a blush to Draco’s skin. 

Draco held his breath as Harry sat up, straddling him, cradling his arm between his hands as he pushed up the sleeve of his jersey. Harry held eye contact as he brushed his lips over the faded blur of grey that used to be the Dark Mark. “Because I see you,” he whispered against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

“You see me,” Draco echoed quietly. Heat spiked in Harry’s belly as Draco bit his lip, digging his free hand into the meat of Harry’s thigh.  

Harry leaned back down to the crook of Draco’s neck. “Because I love fucking you,” he whispered, and Draco shivered.

“Fuck.” 

“And I feel like I could maybe fucking love you.” 

Draco tugged him back up and kissed him hungrily, his tongue sliding alongside Harry’s. He grabbed Harry’s arse, wrenching him closer, grinding his cock upwards against Harry’s, who groaned into the kiss. 

“Love it when you fuck me,” Draco whispered, reaching between them to stroke Harry’s cock. 

Harry exhaled shakily. “Fuck.”

“Could see myself loving you, too,” Draco continued, arching up to kiss him again. 

The words sparked a fire in Harry. “Mine,” he growled. 

“Mine,” Draco agreed. “C’mon, fuck me, Harry.”

So much for lazy morning sex. Harry rolled off the bed, flipping Draco and dragging him to the edge of the bed by his bony hips. 

Conjuring lube hastily, he circled Draco’s rim and plunged a single finger in. “‘M loose enough,” Draco pleaded, pushing up onto his elbows and looking back at Harry. Harry added a second finger, Draco’s hole sucking him in greedily with little resistance.

“Harry,” Draco whined. 

Harry chuckled breathily, covering his cock in lube. With his clean hand, he pulled Draco’s top taut so he could see his name emblazoned across Draco’s shoulder blades. 

“Possessive bastard,” Draco started, but the words faded into a moan as Harry pressed into him, driving his cock in with a long, slow thrust. 

“Mine,” Harry said, pulling all the way out. Draco’s hole fluttered in the moment before Harry plunged back in. He set a confident, intense rhythm, and Draco was boneless beneath him, one hand stroking himself slowly. 

“Close already,” Harry said, his breathing ragged as warmth pooled in his stomach. 

“Yes, come on,” Draco mumbled into the mattress. 

Harry let himself approach the edge, pulling out at the last moment and fisting himself. His orgasm hit him like a stunning spell, his entire body tensing before releasing him as he came in spurts over Draco’s hole. 

He covered the head of his cock in come, fucking it back into Draco as he rode the aftershocks of his orgasm. Once he felt stable again, he pushed Draco over onto his back, pulling him up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees. 

Draco looked completely wrecked, his pupils blown wide and chest blotchy and flushed. Harry knocked his hand away from his cock and swallowed him down, ignoring the slightly soapy taste of conjured lube. 

Draco buried his fingers in Harry’s curls, urging him faster. Harry reached behind his balls, waiting for Draco to shift forward a little more on the bed, before plunging his fingers back into Draco’s arse, shivering at the thought of his come easing the way for his fingers. 

He did his best to fuck and suck Draco in some form of rhythm, but Draco didn’t seem to be of any mind to care either way. Harry blinked tears from his eyes, trying to breathe through his nose as Draco’s cock skimmed along the top of his mouth and into his throat. 

Draco’s muscles tensed under him, and he heard him suck in a breath. “Harry, gonna come,” Draco breathed, tugging on his hair, but Harry just looked up at him and nodded a bit, pressing his fingers forward against Draco’s prostate.

Draco moaned as he began to empty himself into Harry’s mouth, filling it with warm, bitter come. Harry swallowed as best he could, his fingers coaxing more out of Draco even as he focused on the cock in his mouth. 

Draco collapsed backwards, his cock popping out of Harry’s mouth. Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before dragging his spent body up onto the bed next to Draco.

“You’re so good at that,” Draco said, sprawled on his back, eyes closed, still breathing hard. 

Harry gathered him up in his arms, one hand splayed over his lower back underneath the top. “I aim to please.” 

Draco’s eyes fluttered open. “Mission accomplished.” 

Harry brushed his lips over Draco’s softly with just a hint of a kiss. 

The peaceful silence was broken by a loud rumbling, and Draco chuckled. “Worked up an appetite?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “I think I earned a fry-up.”

“I’ll say.” Draco smiled, pressing another kiss against Harry’s lips, sucking on Harry’s bottom lip.

Harry’s stomach growled again, and Draco laughed, pulling away. “Message received.”

“Do you want to go and shower, and I’ll cook?” 

Draco ran a finger down Harry’s chest, spreading his palm over Harry's abdomen. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

Harry arched an eyebrow, sitting up and pulling a groaning Draco along with him. “I do, but I need to eat something first. Replenish my stores.” 

“I’ll replenish your stores.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, chuckling as he stood. “I bet you will.” He pulled on a pair of tight black pants, looking back to catch Draco watching him hungrily. “You are insatiable,” he said. “Shower, now.”

“Yes, darling,” Draco said, though he let his knees drop open invitingly, palming his limp cock. 

“I’m leaving,” Harry choked out as he fled from the room. 

He heard Draco call after him. “You’re no fun!”

Harry stood at the hob, minding a few strips of bacon and sausage links, as well as a pan full of eggs. He’d stolen back to his room to pull on a jumper once he’d heard the shower running, unsure that he’d have the willpower to say no to Draco a third time.

The wireless played in the background, and Harry hummed, singing along with the chorus in a low voice. 

Quiet feet padded into the kitchen, the scent of Draco’s fancy shampoo preceding him. 

“Smells good,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle, tucking his chin over his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against Harry’s neck before releasing him. 

“There’s some orange juice in the fridge,” Harry said, turning to look at Draco. His chest flooded with warmth at the sight of Draco in his hoodie from the day before, the domestic scene in front of him. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” Draco said, looking up from the fridge. 

“I’m not going to have any clothes left.”

“You can wear mine!” Draco pulled out the orange juice, summoning two glasses from the cupboards. 

“I don’t fit into yours,” Harry muttered. 

“I’ll buy you new ones?”

Harry chuckled, turning back to the hob and turning off the heat. He heaped the food onto two dishes, carrying them over to the table. 

Draco was already there, admiring the flowers that Harry had transfigured from some old celery stalks he’d found in the fridge. “Are these for me?”

Harry set down the plates, kissing Draco sweetly before sitting down. “They are.”

Draco preened. “Very thoughtful.”

Harry dug in, his stomach about to riot if he didn’t feed it something other than coffee and come soon. “What can I say,” he said between bites, “I happen to be a very thoughtful boyfriend.”

Draco’s eyebrows flew up, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. “Boyfriend, you say?”

Harry froze before shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I mean… yes? Or, we don’t have to define it or anything, I just thought after yesterday—”

“No, I like it,” Draco interrupted, putting his hand on Harry’s knee, which he’d unconsciously been bouncing under the table. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

Harry exhaled, trying and failing to hold back a grin. “Good. I want to be your boyfriend, too. I mean, clearly.”

Draco smirked at him, beginning to eat again. 

Harry felt the confession he’d never gotten around to vocalising trapped in his throat. Fuck it, he thought, I’m all in now. “I want to be a safe place for you,” he blurted out. 

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully, his brow furrowing a bit. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Draco reassured him. “I just want to know what you meant.”

“Just what I was saying this morning.” Harry bounced his knee again, brimming with nerves. “I see you. I never really had a home growing up, or a family. You had the rug pulled out from under your feet. I just… I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re always going to belong here, with me—whether it’s in my clothes or in my heart.”

Draco looked at him with an unreadable expression, and Harry’s stomach sank until he reached out a hand, tangling his fingers with Harry’s.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” 

Harry blushed, feeling the tips of his ears going red. “Well, you deserve nice things.”

Draco fisted his jumper, pulling him close. “I want to be your safe place, too,” he whispered, his lips a breath away from Harry’s, brushing them together slowly.

“You already are,” Harry said, unable to see anything but the honesty in Draco’s eyes, sealing his admission with a lingering kiss.