Archive of Our Own

"Wands away," Peters said. "Hand-to-hand now. Malfoy, Potter, you're up."

Harry turned and looked at Ron. "Hold this for me?"

Ron took his wand and patted him on the shoulder. "I can't believe you get to punch that git in the nose and receive good marks for it."

"Ron, I don't want to punch him in the nose."

"You don't?"

"I'm past all that."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"Malfoy's been all right. You've seen him." Harry glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy across the room, handing his wand over to Parkinson and donning the protective gloves. He didn't look nervous at all. He appeared as posh and put-together as he had their entire training.

"Yeah, I've seen him. I've seen him act like Merlin's gift to the Ministry," Ron said, breaking Harry's reverie.

"He's not so bad now."

"Whatever you say, Harry. I say, once a total git, always a total git."

Harry turned back to the centre of the practise room. Malfoy adjusted the fit of a glove and popped his neck to one side. Harry shook the tension out of his arms.

"Approach," Peters instructed. "Now, shake hands."

Malfoy put his hand out and Harry looked down at it. It looked frail and fine, like a hand that had never had to do anything in its life.

Harry looked back up into Malfoy's cold face. Only a slight glint to his eye to indicate something resembling impatience.

Harry took Malfoy's hand in his own.

"Good, shake and then—"

But before Harry could pump Malfoy's hand up and down even once, Malfoy gave a jerk, stuck his foot out, and before he knew it, Harry was flat on the padded floor on his back, all the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

Harry looked up and saw Malfoy smirking slightly above him.

Blood roared through Harry's head. His heart battered at his ribs.

And in that moment, all Harry wanted to do was punch the git in the mouth. Right in the arrogant bloody mouth.

"Not the nose, Ron," Harry grumbled under his breath as he rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

But before he could finish brushing, Malfoy came at him again. This time, Harry blocked. He went for his own move, and Malfoy blocked him. They shoved one another away and then circled.

"Go, Harry!"

"Come on, Draco!"

Someone whistled and others clapped.

Harry decided he wasn't going to let Malfoy make the—

"Shit!"

Even while Harry was thinking it, Malfoy moved fast, like the Seeker he used to be, and he ran his shoulder into Harry's middle and plowed him to the ground. Before Harry could grab hold of him and strike his own blow, Malfoy was up again, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning now -- grinning at Harry lying at his feet.

Harry acted without thought, then, scrambling up and ramming into Malfoy with all the force he could muster. There was a satisfying "Oof" as Harry made impact. Malfoy staggered backward a few steps then shoved him off.

There was a moment before Malfoy had his footing when Harry could have landed a blow. There was a moment… but then, in the next breath, it was gone. And Harry didn't know why he hadn't just taken it.

"Lay him out, Harry!" Ron yelled.

And if Harry had had his wand, he would have. No problem. But… like this. It was one thing to send a bolt of magic at someone and quite another to feel your fist—

It was right then, thinking the word 'fist', when Malfoy's connected with his face in a vicious backhand.

Maybe he shouldn't have been, but Harry was stunned. He stood with his face turned away, where Malfoy had put it, just breathing and staring at the floor. Harry brought his hand up and felt where Malfoy had split his lip – the coppery bite of blood on his tongue.

Harry looked at him.

There was a glint in Malfoy's eye, a dare. This was not the boy who Hermione had made cower with a right hook. This was a quick, skilled fighter in front of him.

This was something Harry had not seen coming.

And still Harry didn't charge him. He stood and waited for Malfoy's next assault.

Something darkened in Malfoy's eyes, which was the only way Harry even recognised what was about to happen when he went for another punch. Harry blocked it and landed a hard one to Malfoy's stomach, doubling him over. Malfoy stumbled back a pace, and when he looked up at Harry, Harry expected rage or fury. Instead, there was something that looked like satisfaction. Malfoy's eyes gleamed. He coughed once, but then as he straightened, he was smiling. He was clearly smiling.

"Finally," he said. "I was wondering if I was going to have to start insulting your friends, Potter."

Harry itched to Summon his wand. He wiggled his fingers to dissipate the gathering magic in his hands.

"I see what you want," Malfoy said. He stalked forward. Harry held his ground.

When Malfoy went to slap him across the face, Harry easily shoved his hand away. Malfoy went to do it again, not a punch but clearly a slap, an insult, a taunt. Harry shoved his arm away again. Malfoy smiled at him, dark and hot. He shoved Harry in the chest. Harry shoved him back.

"Let's go, Potter," Malfoy purred. "What will it take?" Malfoy shoved him again. "Come on. Let's do this."

Malfoy went to slap him again. This time, after Harry blocked it, he punched Malfoy in the jaw.

Harry thought he was going to hit the floor, but instead, from a half crouch, Malfoy struck out with his elbow in Harry's gut. Pain exploded through his centre, but Harry didn't wait; he charged Malfoy and tackled him to the ground, landing punch after punch to his insolent face. Three punches, and Peters was yelling something, but Harry didn't care. He pulled back to strike again, but Malfoy caught his fist and wrenched his arm back, scrambling around until he was behind and on top of Harry, pushing him violently down into the floor.

Malfoy pulled his arm back, hard. "Does it feel good, Potter? Making me bleed again?"

His voice was just behind Harry's ear. His lips brushed Harry's skin. Harry went to buck Malfoy off, but it took two tries, and something happened in that space of time – something awful. Something truly awful.

He started to feel good.

Harry hurried to his feet, but before the world could stop tilting, Malfoy was on him. He got in a punch to Harry's mouth. Harry blocked the next one. And then they were toppling to the ground again, and Harry heard a growl come out of his own throat that didn't sound quite human, and he hated Malfoy again. Like it had never gone away. Hated him. Except that he didn't know why. There was no reason now. There was only the feeling and the memories and his fist finding Malfoy's face twice more, and then Malfoy flipping him, rolling on top of him, pinning Harry's wrists over his head and smiling down at him.

Smiling.

Malfoy ground his body down on Harry's, holding him there, his fingers strong and bruising as Harry struggled. Malfoy's breath puffed hot in Harry's face.

And Malfoy was fucking lit up with it. He was alive and hot and bleeding a little from his lip, his hair loose and eyes wild. Harry thought fast. He had several options, one of which would be kneeing Malfoy in the groin, but…

Harry didn't. He didn't do anything.

He stared up into the pointy face that he once would have given anything to banish from his life. He felt Malfoy's weight holding him there, the warmth of him, his hard angles, Malfoy's sweat dripping off the ends of his hair and landing on Harry's neck, his lip, and all Harry could do was…

Harry surged up, lifting his head off the ground, and pressed his lips hard to Malfoy's.

It was only a second. Two seconds at most. But they were two seconds Harry would never get back again, could never change. He pulled back, staring up at Malfoy breathing heavy on top of him. He saw Malfoy's eyes darken. He felt Malfoy's fingers loosen.

Harry wasted no time and wrenched his hands free. Fast as he could, he flipped Malfoy off him, rolled him over on his stomach, got a knee in his back, grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. "Fuck you, Draco, is this what you wanted?"

Malfoy didn't struggle. He didn't struggle at all. A strangled whisper came from his lips, so low only Harry could hear: "Yesss."

Harry released him instantly. He scrambled back and stood. He wiped the blood – the kiss – from his mouth.

Peters' voice filtered through the noise in his brain, telling them to cool down, to go get cleaned up.

Harry watched Malfoy start to stand before he turned and strode out. He didn't look at anyone's faces, just pushing past them all to the door and through it and out into the cool hall where the air felt fresher and cleaner and maybe he'd be more himself if he just washed Malfoy off him and changed clothes and had some dinner and sleep and—

A hand grasped his elbow and started dragging him down the hall.

"What—"

"Quiet, Potter."

Harry wrenched his arm out of Malfoy's grasp. "What the bloody hell do you think you're—"

"In here." Malfoy opened the door to an empty practise room.

"Malfoy, I don't know what—"

But Malfoy compressed his lips in frustration, grabbed Harry by his sweaty shirt, and pulled him into the half-darkness. Malfoy shut the door and pushed Harry's back up against it. "What do you think, you daft twat?" He pressed his mouth down on Harry's, hands carding into his hair and tightening.

Harry parted his lips to protest, but Malfoy just delved in with his tongue.

And Harry groaned. Before he could think twice about it – once about it – he groaned.

"Shut it, I didn't bring my wand," Malfoy hissed, even as he gripped the bottom of his shirt and ripped it over his head, dropping it to the ground and attacking Harry's mouth again, his kiss deep and hard. One hand held Harry's head in place, a gentle palm at the base of his skull, and the other worked in a fevered way at Harry's trousers.

"Malfoy," Harry gasped between instances of Malfoy licking hot and hungry into his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up." Malfoy got Harry's trousers ripped open. He pulled Harry backward by the front of the shirt. "Come on," he growled. Malfoy pulled, and they tumbled to the floor. He shoved Harry's trousers and pants down around his thighs. "Come on." He slid on his back until his face was poised beneath Harry's hard cock.

Oh my fucking god!

Malfoy wrangled Harry into position, a knee on either side of his head, Harry's trousers stretched to their limit, and Harry could only pant, anticipate it for a moment, and then close his eyes in bliss as Malfoy pulled his cock down and into his mouth.

His body still high and sick with adrenaline, Harry didn't think. He couldn't think. Draco Malfoy was under him and sucking his cock. Harry trembled with trying to hold still for it. But then Malfoy's hands found his arse and squeezed. Harry growled and started fucking down into Malfoy's face until Malfoy groaned long and hard around his dick. Harry widened his knees as much as he could, his hands splayed on the ground, and he thrust hard and fast into Malfoy's bruised mouth until he came, head thrown back and trying not to scream. Malfoy moaned around him, the vibration sheer perfection. Harry's hips slowed until he stopped fucking entirely, just kneeling there and trembling through the last of it. Malfoy brought his hand around and stroked Harry's cock, sucking and licking at the head until he was through. And it was bloody incredible.

"Fucking shit," Harry gasped.

But no sooner was the last drop in Malfoy's mouth than he shoved Harry off and onto his back. Malfoy rolled over and crawled up Harry's body, digging his own cock out. He held himself off of Harry with one arm and wanked on Harry's cock with the other. Harry lay there under him and watched his face contort, watched his graceful hand, its knuckles bruised, stroke fast along the length of it. Harry watched Malfoy's mouth open, his eyes shut… felt the soft head of Malfoy's cock rub against his own… and then Malfoy was coming, strong and hard and loud. Harry didn't think. He wrapped his hand around Malfoy's neck and pulled him down so they were kissing – so his tongue was in Malfoy's mouth, tasting himself, muffling the sounds of his orgasm as Malfoy came on his softening cock and his stomach.

Malfoy quieted down to whimpers, and their lips parted. Harry's felt salt-stung and swollen. He liked how Malfoy tasted. Bloody hell, he liked all of it. He found himself looking up at this panting, dishevelled Malfoy and wishing he'd collapse on top of him for a short while.

Harry liked the weight of him there.

Holy fuck, he liked him. And hated him. And he'd never had sex like that before in his life. He felt… God, he felt…

"I feel like someone beat me up," he said and then watched as Malfoy's face transformed with a smile. Malfoy shoved him. "Ow, dammit." Malfoy laughed, low and sexy.

God, no, Malfoy was not sexy. He wasn't. They'd had sex. That was all. That did not make Malfoy sexy. Harry had just had a long day. He was exhausted and not thinking straight.

Malfoy rolled off him and onto his back on the floor, an arm flung up over his head. They both lay there and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Harry felt like his heart wasn't slowing down at all. Not at all. He just lay there with his heart ready to beat right out of his chest.

He looked at Malfoy next to him. "What are we going to do? We can't go out there like this."

Malfoy turned his head and blinked at him.

Bloody fucking gorgeous.

Dammit.

Malfoy shrugged. He laughed again – that low, sexy thing. Harry shoved him. "I'm the one with come all over me. You swallowed mine."

Malfoy's laugh died a little. His eyes sparkled, and he went a little short of breath. "Yeah."

Harry's cock – the stupid, horny thing – twitched.

He swallowed and looked at the ceiling again. "I'm cleaning it up with your shirt then."

"Fair enough," Malfoy sighed.

"Where is it?"

"Over there somewhere."

"Great." Harry turned his head to look at him again. Like he needed to make sure Malfoy was really there… that they'd really, actually done this.

Malfoy smiled at him. Harry's chest did bloody weird things.

"So," Harry said.

"So."

He took a deep breath. "What was that in there?"

Malfoy's lips lifted in a slow smirk. "That was this, Potter."

Harry looked between his sharp, grey eyes for a moment. "And what was this, Malfoy?"

Malfoy rolled up onto one elbow and seemed to sedately study Harry's face for a moment before letting his gaze travel down Harry's body and back up. Harry felt every inch of his appraisal. He held his breath. Malfoy licked his lips and found Harry's waiting gaze once more. "Culmination," Malfoy said. He smirked again. He pushed himself up and rose to his feet.

Harry sat up, his whole body protesting. Everything ached now. He watched Malfoy walk over to his discarded shirt and pick it up. He tossed it to Harry, and Harry caught it.

"See you tomorrow, Potter. I expect that to be clean when you return it."

"Are you joking? This is my new go-to come rag. Draco Malfoy's silk sparring shirt."

Malfoy graced him with another slow smirk, and Harry swallowed down his reaction, because it only made him want to have Malfoy all over again.

God, he was beyond fucked.

"See you tomorrow," Malfoy said again.

Harry sighed. "Yeah."

Malfoy turned to the door. He was almost through it when, heart in his throat, Harry stopped him. "Hey, Malfoy!"

Malfoy turned. "Yeah?"

"You, uh… You could really use some work on your left hook."

An eyebrow went up. "Could I? Because I was under the impression that I kicked your ever-loving arse."

"Well, I think that's up for debate."

"Is it?"

"I believe so. Maybe over dinner?"

Both eyebrows.

Silence.

Blinking.

Harry swallowed.

Malfoy looked at the floor for a moment, then back up at Harry. "I like curry."

Harry's pulse raced. "So do I."

Malfoy lifted his chin, as bloody haughty as ever. "Fine then. After training Friday?"

"You're on."

Malfoy nodded. "Fine."

This time, Harry smiled. "Fine."

Malfoy turned back to the door and was through it before he turned back. "Oh and Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Go ahead and keep the shirt." Malfoy winked at him and walked out.

Harry lay back on the padded floor, aching and stinging. He groaned with how much he hurt and how good he felt. He smiled at the ceiling and then closed his eyes.