Work Text:
While Draco banged around in the kitchen, Harry fretted. He tried not to show it, of course. Displaying how scared shitless he was, was un-cool. So, he sprawled on the sofa because he wanted to look relaxed, like he didn’t have a looming, apocalyptic confession to make.
Harry invited Draco and Seamus to the condo to watch lame action movies and gorge on junk food, or so he claimed. They probably thought he was hurting for company because Ron wanted nothing to do with him. In actuality, deception was the only thing on Harry’s mind.
He really, really, really needed to talk to Draco, but he found it extraordinarily difficult to broach the topic of his severely cumbersome love life. So he lied about the real reason he wanted Draco over. Harry’s duplicity didn’t stop there. He was slinging lies left and right. He faked wonderment along with Draco when Seamus didn’t show, knowing the whole time that he told Seamus the come two hours later so he could be alone with Draco.
Starting, that’s the bitch of it, Harry decided, because there are so many ways his intentions could come off wrong. First off, he didn’t want Draco to think he came to him with this problem because he was the only gay person Harry knew, or because Ron wasn’t talking to him. Seamus was with Cho and talking to him about his love life was the epitome of awkward, since Cho figured prominently in Harry’s current confusion. Secondly, Harry never wanted Draco to think he thought being gay was wrong. Thirdly… well, thirdly was reserved for whatever might go wrong he couldn’t think of.
So far, Harry’s wasted one of those hours procrastinating. He had less than an hour to grow a pair and accomplish what he set out to do: talk to Draco about his feelings for Dean.
When Draco comes back in, I’m definitely going to tell him. Definitely, Harry thought in an effort to hype himself up. He changed his mind a half dozen times before Draco returned carrying a large trey holding a gigantic bowl of popcorn and two glasses of soda.
Draco wore a dark green shirt with short-sleeves and faded designer jeans that hugged tight around his thighs and butt. He was shoeless, his feet covered only by white socks. Draco was dressed down for a night of vegging. Harry was also dressed in casual fashion: he’d changed out of the clothes he wore to school and put on a pair of green baggy jeans no longer fit to be worn beyond the condo and a plain black T-shirt. He went barefoot.
Draco placed the bowl of popcorn on the middle cushion then transferred the trey and glasses to the coffee table in front of them. He grabbed Harry’s legs by the ankles and tossed them off the sofa then sat on the opposite end.
“You should do that for a living,” Harry said as he scooped up a handful of popcorn.
“Do what?” Draco asked, pinching a few kernels with his fingers.
“Serve me food,” Harry replied before funneling popcorn into his mouth.
“Ha-Ha. Maybe I will, but you better get used to your food tasting funny.”
Harry grinned as he chewed. They sat quietly and watched one of the too many Blade sequels on cable.
Then Draco asked, “So… you and Ron still not talking?”
Harry kept watching the TV and said, “Nope.”
“You guys really need to get over yourselves.”
“When he’s ready to apologize, he knows where my door is.”
“Ron? Apologize? So you’re basically saying you two are never getting back together.”
Aghast, Harry turned his head and saw Draco innocently munching on popcorn and watching the TV. “Dude, rephrase! Rephrase!”
Draco smiled like the Mona Lisa and grabbed another helping of popcorn. Harry shuddered and returned his gaze to the screen. After a few minutes passed, he decided to broach the real reason why he asked Draco over.
“Draco… what do you think about Dean Thomas?”
“I don’t,” Draco stated, still watching TV. “I barely know the guy. All I know is he was dating a girl that got killed last year."
"Amy,” Harry said.
“Yeah.”
“I… think maybe we should, you know, give him a chance.”
“Maybe,” Draco responded cautiously. Then he said, “I guess you and him are sort of not enemies now.”
“I told him I had his back if he got picked on again.”
“That why Ron’s mad at you?”
Harry shrugged. “That, and I beat him up.”
“I saw. So, you’re ditching your best friend for Dean?”
"No!" Harry barked. "I just think we should give Dean a chance. He's had a rough go of it, and well, we haven't exactly been all that nice to him. Yeah... before Amy he was a dick, but now... now he's alright."
When Harry finished his rant he was panting and Draco was giving him a measured look. Embarrassed, Harry tried to play off his impassioned speech by grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing the whole bunch into his mouth.
“I guess that’s not surprising,” Draco said before focusing on the TV again.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked after he washed down the gummy-crunchy mass in his mouth with soda.
“Mr. Dumbledore put you two on the same project for a reason,” Draco said. “Harry, I love you, but sometimes you can be thick.”
Harry ignored the ‘I love you’ because it brought up issues he didn’t want to deal with. He was confused enough without Draco tantalizing him with innocent declarations. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Wizard,” he said, setting the glass back on the platter.
Draco unleashed a rude snort. “Well, think, doofus! Dumbledore knows you’re a team player and you’d empathize with Dean if he were on your team.”
“Wrong! Dumbledore put us on the panel to punish us for fighting,” Harry said with absolute conviction.
Harry must have been the dumbest prat on the planet the way Draco was looking at him. Draco shook his head slowly, making the action look steeped in melancholy, before he turned back to the TV. “Thick. So very thick.”
Harry frowned and grabbed another handful of popcorn then tossed it at Harry’s head. This resulted in small war of kernel throwing until Draco had to go back into the kitchen and make more. Harry got out the mini-vac and cleaned up all the popcorn he could find. As he vacuumed, Harry realized he managed to avoid the meat of the conversation he wanted to have with Draco. He was procrastinating again, subconsciously delaying until Seamus showed up.
Harry put the vacuum cleaner away when he was finished and got back on the sofa. He was resolute now; he was going to come right out with it when Draco came back. No more bitching out. He was going to Just Fucking Do It!
“I put extra butter on the popcorn this time, so unless you want grease stains all over your house I suggest no more impromptu food fights,” Draco said when he reentered the living room.
Draco sat and placed the bowl between them again. He munched and watched TV as Harry’s determination slowly eroded. Before it could desert him completely, Harry took a deep breath and started talking. Quickly, so he didn’t have chance to think about the consequences of baring his words to air.
“When did you know you were gay?”
Draco turned to him dull-eyed and chomping popcorn open mouthed. It wasn’t a flattering look, and made him look like a cow chewing cud.
“Well?” Harry asked impatiently, not liking the hammer to the forehead expression on Draco’s face.
Draco swallowed noisily then said, “Excuse me if I’m a little stunned by the randomness of your question!”
“I’m just curious,” Harry replied easily, sounding relaxed and blasé (better late than never).
“Huh. Okay. I guess I’ve known since I was six.”
“Six!” Harry exclaimed. “How do you know if you like girls, boys, or anything when you’re six-years-old?”
Draco shrugged. “I wanted to marry George Michael, so I was definitely gay.” Draco smirked, grasped his hands together against his chest, and declared, “Little did I know how possible my impossible dream was.”
“So you knew for that long, huh?”
“Sure did. Not that I don’t like this sudden interest in my bent childhood, but you wanna tell me why you’re asking?”
Harry ignored Draco’s question and asked another of his own. “But you didn’t… You couldn’t have been, like, sexually attracted to guys when you were six, right?”
“No.”
“So when did you, you know…?”
Draco laughed and said, “Sure you wanna know? It’s kind of graphic and I know how you hets get when we start flaunting our homo all over the place.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do want to know,” Harry responded solemnly.
“Er… well…” Draco wiped the grin off his face and cleared his throat. Harry’s questions were throwing him for a loop. “The first time I popped a boner because of a guy I was twelve. Yeah, I was twelve.”
“You got aroused…” Harry said thoughtfully, his gaze drifting past Draco’s face as he pondered what he was told. “Ever like a guy but didn’t get turned on by him?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“The first time I saw Cho, I wanted her. To kiss her, touch her. She turned me on.”
“You felt that way about every girl that caught your eye?”
Harry thought about it for moment then answered, “Yeah.”
“You filthy slut,” Draco said.
“Draco, I’m really serious.”
“Sorry, sorry! Just… what’s all this about?”
The decisive moment arrived. Harry hoped Draco would have figured it out on his own by now. Not that it would have made the situation any less traumatic even if he had.
“I’m almost sure I’m gay.”
“Who’s-a-jigga-wha’?”
“Draco…”
“No, now I’m serious!” Draco insisted. “You’re gay! That’s huge!”
Harry gave Draco a deadpan look. “I seem to remember taking your revelation more in stride,” he said.
“Ah-ha, but be honest, finding out wasn’t much of a surprise to you, was it?”
“Well… no,” Harry admitted.
“See! Wow, you must be one of us. Your radar is excellent.”
Harry groaned and slumped on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “But see, that’s the thing: I’m not completely convinced I am.”
“I’m not saying everyone’s experience is the same as mine, but trust me, if you’re gay you know it.”
“Maybe I’m confused.”
“Addle-brained is more like it,” Draco said.
“I’m gonna punch you right in the mouth.”
“Gay on gay violence is such an ugly crime.”
Harry looked at Draco gave him a quick, fake smile then returned his gaze to the ceiling. “Like I was saying before you turned into Howie Mandel, I have no idea if I am batting for the other team. I feel something for him, but--.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… wait a minute. There’s a him?”
“There is.”
“Oh, boy.”
“I think I’d like to… I don’t know what I want from him. He’s not even gay, but he’s so… lovely.”
“Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy.”
“Stop saying that.”
“No problem. Who are we talking about?”
“Ron.”
“Oh, my god.”
Harry laid his head back and covered his eyes with his hands. “Okay, that was a lie. I’m hoping that was so shocking that when I tell you who it really is you won’t be as revolted.”
Draco socked Harry in the shoulder. “You jackass! Don’t scare me like that again!”
“You hit pretty hard for a girly-man,” Harry said.
“Whatever. Who is it?”
“Dean.”
“Dean, who?”
“Dean Thomas.”
Draco slowly craned his head around and stared at the TV, but Harry had a feeling he wasn’t watching Don “The Dragon” Wilson execute a poorly choreographed spinning back kick to a stuntman’s face.
“I know, it’s weird, but I think about him all the time. It’s like with Cho, except…”
“She’s a he?”
“Draco,” Harry maintained in a creaky voice. He didn’t want to sound whiny, but knew he did.
“How can you be sure you like him?”
“I don’t know,” Harry replied almost inaudibly.
“Harry… Damn it. Maybe you only feel sorry for him. You’re confused, like you said. I mean, the dude did lose his girlfriend last year.”
“I don’t think so.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’ve felt this way about someone male before.”
“Okay, okay. Never mind.” Draco sighed then said, “So what do you feel about him? I mean, how is it different than what you felt for Cho?”
“Well… it’s like… I know I want to kiss him—he has very pretty lips—but when I try to imagine what it’d feel like,” Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head, “I feel like I’m reading about it happening to someone else. I can’t connect the want with desire.”
When Harry opened his eyes, he saw Draco giving him a long thoughtful look. “You’re scared,” he said after some silent deliberation.
Harry shook his head. “I’m not scared of anything.”
“Trust me, you’re scared. You’re not dealing with being attracted to him by not letting yourself feel attracted to him.”
“I’m in denial, that’s what you’re saying.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re wrong. When I like somebody, I like them. I don’t deny it, especially not to myself.”
“Harry…”
“No,” came Harry’s adamant reply.
“Fine,” Draco said, retreating for the moment. He decided to switch track. “Was it the same with the first guy you liked?”
“He… he was different.”
“How?”
“He just was,” Harry said, inundating his words with tetchiness. He hoped it dissuaded Draco from probing
further.
It did.
“O-kay.”
“Look, I’m not scared, I just don’t know if I’m gay or just… curious.”
“Fair enough,” Draco said with a small nod.
“You hear about it all the time. Some people go through a phase. Have doubts about their sexuality.”
“And you’re one of those people.”
“Dunno. Maybe.”
“Then let’s find out,” Draco suggested, like it was obvious and the easiest thing in the world to do.
“I can’t. I think I scared him away,” Harry said. “I said something stupid to him and he hasn’t been back to school since. After I told him Dean looked… God, he probably thinks I’m a total freak!”
“What did you say?”
“I said he was beautiful then ran away like his hair was on fire.”
“That was sweet.”
“Oh, please,” Harry, said leaning his head back on the
sofa again.
“I still think you should find out if you’re gay or not.”
“I doubt Dean’s going to participate in gay experiments with me.”
“It doesn’t have to be Dean.”
Harry lifted his head off the back of the sofa and grinned in Draco’s direction. “Oh, sure, I’ll just go out and fool around with the first guy who lets me.”
“Harry, I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a homosexual male sitting less than two feet away from you.”
Harry couldn’t think clearly for a minute straight. He was not at all certain he heard what he heard. It was at once too good to be true and terrifying. “What?”
“I know I’m not crazy for you, but I think I can sufficiently get a rise out of you. If you’re gay that is.” Then Draco waggled his eyebrows and said, “I’m so good maybe even if you’re not.”
“What?” Harry repeated.
Draco moved the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table. “Come ’ere,” he said before sliding closer until their sides touched.
“What?”
“Am I freaking you out?” Draco was grinning.
“What?” Harry repeated again.
“I don’t know if you’re freaked or spontaneously dropped twenty IQ points,” Draco said.
“Wha--”
“Harry, don’t say what again.”
“Are you serious?” Harry asked instead, his brain
slowly rebooting.
“Sure I am.”
“What about Blaise?”
Draco looked down and placed his hand on Harry’s leg. “We’re not going to have sex, Harry. I love Blaise, but I don’t think a little kissing will hurt anything.” Draco started rubbing his left hand up and down Harry’s thigh.
“So-so, this is a-a test, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Feeling queer yet?”
Harry wasn’t. He was too scared. But not scared the way Draco accused him of being. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Draco looked up and they made eye contact briefly before he lean forward and kissed Harry on the lips. It was brief and light and Harry was utterly still during and after. Draco, sensing neither resistance nor agreement, kissed him again, but this time kept their lips in contact much longer. The kiss wasn’t hard; it stayed feather-soft. Draco’s lips working first on Harry’s bottom lip then meandered up to his upper lip.
Harry’s thoughts were a riot of conflicting emotions, yet his body was unbelievably unresponsive. Even as Draco’s hand came within mere centimeters of his groin. Draco got to his knees on the sofa, keeping his mouth in contact with Harry’s. He clasped the back of Harry’s neck with his other hand and pressed in closer, his kisses getting persistent, forcing Harry to retreat until his back leaned over the sofa’s armrest. Draco was all but lying on top of him now.
This wasn’t fair. It took Harry so long to get over his infatuation with Draco and even longer to stop hating Blaise for having Draco. He knew going through with this was going to fuck with his head. “Stop,” he said, moving his head up so his lips were out of Draco’s reach. “Stop, this isn’t right.”
“Harry, it’s okay. It really is,” Draco said cutting off further protests from Harry by sliding up his body and forcing another kiss on him.
Harry once again found himself lacking courage. He could make Draco get off of him, could do it with one arm; he was that much stronger. But Harry was all too conscious of the fact once Draco proved whatever point he was trying to make there would be no more kisses. No more of Draco’s slim, warm body against his. That wasn’t something he could give up easily. Not when all he had to do was let Draco have his way, absolving Harry of responsibility and allowing him to get what he’s wanted for the better part of a year.
Then an ugly rationale crept through the reptile portion of Harry’s brain: why be responsible? He’s always being so goddamn responsible! How easy would it be to reverse their positions and take more than Draco offered to him? It’d be real easy. He could tear off Draco’s clothes and plunder what Blaise Zabini was fortunate enough to have whenever he wanted. It’d be so damn easy. And maybe—maybe—just this once he’ll win over the other guy. Draco would choose him and he won’t be yet another person’s second choice.
Harry wanted to surrender to the urge, wanted it like he never wanted anything in his life before. To take and take and take until Draco was his, but he couldn’t deceive himself. Not for long, anyway. He can’t make himself believe Draco ever considered him a choice at all.
Harry cautiously wrapped his arms around Draco and accepted the cruel pittance given to him. He repositioned himself on the sofa until his entire body rested on the cushions, carrying Draco’s form with him, as if he was a fleshy stretcher. Draco mirrored his action and stretched along the length of Harry’s body, winding his arms around Harry’s neck.
God, he’s so light, Harry thought and hugged Draco tighter.
Draco spread his thighs apart and slinked down until his arousal was evident and pressed into Harry’s groin. Pleasure sparked through Harry like a bolt of lightening, causing him to react without thought. He rolled Draco underneath him and jabbed his hips down, scraping their concealed erections together.
Draco hooked his heels over Harry’s calves and rubbed them up and down his legs. Harry slipped his hands down under Draco’s arse and squeezed his small, but taunt cheeks before yanking Draco’s lower body more solidly against him.
Harry was gay; it was a proven beyond all doubt, so Draco was well in his rights to put an end to their experiment. So, Harry kissed Draco like it was for the last time. He clutched him as if he’d disappear like a wisp of smoke, because Harry knew it could all end in an instant.
He licked away the flavor of popcorn and butter inside Draco’s mouth until there was nothing but the pure taste of Draco. And it was a battle; Harry never met so much resistance when he kissed someone. Not that Draco was trying to hinder him, but his tongue was equally aggressive. So much so, Harry wondered who wanted this more: him or Draco?
Draco moved his hands away from Harry’s neck to his shoulders, his fingers squeezing briefly before continuing down until his hands were on Harry’s back. The heels of his feet climbed up the back of Harry’s legs until they dug into the very top of his thighs, just beneath Harry’s buttocks. Draco used his heels like spurs to urge Harry’s pelvis towards his own.
It was about then Harry lost control (though it was debatable if he ever was in control). He started pounding his hips at Draco with all the strength in his body, his hands left Draco’s delectable little arse and moved to the armrest above their heads. He gripped it as he continued hammering down against the boy beneath him. All the barriers of fabric between them may have withheld the true heat and softness that would have been present if they were naked, but they made the friction rougher and somehow sweeter. And thankfully, Harry was certain, a longer experience.
Harry was about to come and he stopped kissing Draco so he could see his face when he did. Draco’s eyelids were slits, his irises barely visible. He was biting his lower lip and breathing hard from his nose. His skin, normally very pale, was flushed and sprinkled with beads of sweat. The look of him was the purest example of lust Harry’s ever seen that wasn’t from a photograph or on a moving screen. Harry lowered his head again, not to kiss, but to run his tongue under Draco’s jaw, tasting his sweat—his skin.
Draco sighed his name; his fingers clawed Harry’s back. His body vibrating with tension, tension brought on by his efforts to rock his body in rhythm with Harry’s, but Harry’s larger, more powerful form anchored his down against the sofa cushions.
Harry was getting there… getting real close… just one more lunge and he’d go right over the edge… Draco came. He screamed Harry’s name. Harry’s hip thrusts faltered. Draco crying his name made the world stop—just stop. Harry and Draco caught in that frozen moment, looked into each other’s eyes. Draco gazed at him with dark, inscrutable eyes. Harry wondered what he was thinking right then.
The moment passed. Harry kissed Draco’s eyelids closed, then kissed his nose, lips, and chin when he began humping again. Draco was shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm and was still hard, but not for long. Harry had to hurry to completion before the other boy came to his senses.
The doorbell rang. Three knocks at the front door followed. Harry closed his eyes and bit back a cry of frustration; Seamus was at the door.
When he opened his eyes Draco was smiling up at him sheepishly. When he tried to wiggle out from underneath Harry, Harry was slow to let him go. When he got free, Draco rushed out of the living room, and headed in the general direction of the bathroom. Harry remained on the sofa, his legs folded beneath him, his hands curled into fists on his knees.
Seamus knocked again.