Chapter Text
Draco
October 1, 2004
Draco was drunk and he wasn’t entirely sure how running into Potter at a muggle dance club had turned into this. His thighs gripped firmly around Potter’s waist, his knees dipping into the seat cushion of the ancient, leather, wingback in Potter’s drawing room. Potter’s needy hands up the back of his shirt, pulling him in, fingers splayed out over his bare skin, while Draco undulated against him, grinding their stiff cocks together. Kissing madly while they did it. Potter’s mouth hot and wet and he leant forward to chase Draco’s lips whenever they broke apart. Draco’s hands were in Potter’s terrible hair, clenching and petting in turns. He nipped and sucked at Potter’s bottom lip, Potter’s hands went to his hips and held him stationary while he thrust up against him and groaned into his mouth. Then Potter was scooting forward on the chair till he was perched on the edge, Draco still in his lap, then off it and lowering Draco to the ground on his back. Holding him securely in those strong arms the whole while.
Draco was so turned on he didn’t even protest being placed on the unswept floor. Potter rucked up the front of Draco’s shirt to get at his stomach then pressed moaning, sloppy kisses from Draco’s navel to his collar bone, Draco writhing under him while he did it, bucking his hips up, throwing his legs tightly around Potter’s waist and hooking his ankles together to draw them closer. Potter came back to his mouth and their tongues slid hungrily against each other as they kissed.
Draco unwound his arms from Potter’s neck and began fighting with the buttons of his shirt. He felt both affronted and (for some reason) dizzyingly turned on by Potter wearing a nicer shirt than him. Draco had worn a snug white tee shirt, and jeans of all things, nice jeans, but still. Potter had been wearing what appeared to be a perfectly tailored black button up but upon closer inspection was a perfectly tailored forest green button up tucked into a pair of expensive looking charcoal grey trousers that hugged in all the right places.
Potter had looked shocked to see Draco at the club, but not altogether displeased, and then he had let Draco drag him into the throng of people on the dance floor without protest. At first Draco had thought it would be amusing to scare Potter off by getting too close, by winding his forearms around his neck, laying his head on his shoulder, seeing how much he could get away with before Potter balked and shoved him off in anger. Potter’s strong warm hands had fallen tentatively on his waist and that had been so much hotter than he had anticipated, Draco had an inch of height on him but Potter was bigger, broader. He’d let his breath huff out on Potter’s throat, he’d run his lips up over the skin with a grazing touch till he got to Potter’s ear and then nipped at it, all while they were pressed close, chest to chest on the crowded dance floor, music blaring.
When Draco had bitten Potter’s ear his whole body had tensed and stilled for a moment and Draco smiled bitter sweet to himself because he’d won his little game but Potter was going to run off and that would be the end of it. But Potter hadn’t run off, he’d dragged in a heavy breath and his hands had gone hard on Draco’s waist and he’d held him tightly and Draco had tingled all over, then Potter had turned his head and kissed him. And Draco had been shocked, but it was good, it was so good. Potter kissed him like he was starving, like Draco was everything. Just raw and desperate.
And then Draco had barely registered their trek back to the front of the club, locked together as they were, tearing their lips apart only for brief intervals, first so Potter could pay his tab – Draco mouthed down his neck while he did it and Potter’s strong arm cradled around the small of his back, holding him close, shivering as Draco got to the juncture of his neck and shoulder and sucked, then bit. Potter guided Draco’s lips back to his as soon as the transaction was complete and kissed him like they’d been apart for months not seconds. Then at coat check Potter had stood behind him, sucking bruises into his neck, while Draco handed over his ticket then braced himself on the counter to grind his arse back against Potter’s groin, Potter’s fingers had dug bruises into the cradle of his hips when he’d done that.
Then they had been outside in the cold and relative quiet of the midnight street and Potter had forced his wrists back against the wall and kissed him again and Draco had considered dropping to his knees right there on the street in front of all the people taking smoke breaks. When he had his arms back he dragged Potter close by the front of his shirt and snarled, “Take me home, or find a fucking alley.”
Then Potter had used his shiny rectangle to fetch a car with a driver who kept making disapproving little tsking noises as they snogged in the backseat. Draco’s fingers worked into the gaps between the buttons on Potter’s shirt and stroked the skin on his stomach, making Potter’s hips twitch toward him and eliciting murmuring little gasps against his lips.
They had stumbled into Potter’s gloomy oppressive townhouse, a twist of limbs, mouths slobbering insistently at each other. Potter had been trying to take off his shoes in the drawing room when Draco had shoved him impatiently back into the chair and crawled onto his lap. Potter had just whined helplessly while Draco straddled him and pulled him in with a hand around the base of his skull and the shoes had been forgotten.
And Potter had lowered him onto the floor, holding him like he was nothing, Draco groaned, knowing he’d be revisiting the memory with regularity.
Potter’s shirt resisted being unbuttoned, it must have been new, the fabric still stiff, maybe he’d bought it just for that night. Draco shivered as he got to the last fastening and Potter’s shirt fell open like curtains around him. The dark broad expanse of Potter’s chest looming over him, muscular and taut, black hair whorling over his pecs and running in a stream down to his navel, regrouping on the other side and disappearing into the waist of his trousers. Draco felt dizzy, he pulled Potter toward him, then hooked a leg over the back of his thigh and rolled them so he was on top straddling Potter’s waist again. He leant over, running his hands over Potter’s chest and stomach, drinking it in, memorizing it with the tips of his fingers. He bent close to Potter’s ear. “What do you want?” he said, wanton and urgent.
Potter’s gaze flicked around his face before responding. “I don’t know,” he said. Then putting his warm hands back on Draco’s waist, he said, “This.” Rocking his hips.
Draco shivered from the touch, it was so achingly intimate for some reason to have Potter’s hands hold him like that, firm but gentle, just above his hips. Potter’s finger pads and palms were smoothly calloused. “What do you like?” Draco said, pressing his lips along Potter’s jaw, using a fist in his messy hair to angle his head back so he could lick up the veins of his neck.
“I– fuck,” Potter groaned, arching his neck into it. “I don’t know.” Then, in a rush, “It’s my first time.”
Draco stilled and frowned. “First time for what?”
Potter swallowed, looking a little nervous finally. “This,” he said.
Draco leant back on his haunches and released Potter’s hair. “This what? What is ‘this’?”
Potter bit his lip. “Um, you know, hooking up.”
“First… one night stand?” Draco prompted.
“Yeah,” Potter said. Then before Draco could say anything else. “But also…”
“Also what, Potter?” Draco made an impatient little gesture with his hands.
“Well…”
“You’re not a virgin, obviously.”
“No! Of course not,” Potter said.
“Right, so…?”
“I mean, not… technically.”
“Not technically…?”
Potter chewed his lip.
Draco’s eyes widened and he leant back farther.
Potter leant up quickly, moving his palms to Draco’s back. “No, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”
“Um, yes, it is a big deal. What the fuck are you talking about? Are you serious? You’ve never had sex? How is that even possible? I know you date. You were with the Weasley girl for years!”
“Yeah, well we were kids and there was kind of a war going on if you’ll recall.”
“Uh huh, and it’s been six years since then, so…”
“I’ve had a blow job,” Potter said, only a little desperately.
Draco blinked at that and shook his head a little. “You’re serious.”
Potter shrugged.
Draco started to swing his leg over Potter’s waist and roll away, but Potter caught him by the elbows. “Wait,” he said. “Forget I said anything, don’t worry about it.”
Draco choked out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably not an option.”
“It’s not like I’ve been saving myself, it just hasn’t happened,” Potter said. “But I want to.”
Draco’s throat worked. It was off. If it was just some quick thing between old rivals that was one thing… but if it was Potter’s first time it would mean something, it would mean something to Draco even if it didn’t to… he couldn’t explain why, and it made his stomach twist unpleasantly, sobered him enough to lean back. “You should find someone else, someone you… you know, like,” Draco said.
“No,” Potter said, finding Draco’s hand, trying to coax him back. “Look, I just want to do it, I don’t want to make a huge deal out of it. It’s good.” He swallowed. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Look, Potter,” Draco said, pinching his brow.
“Fuck. No, come on, don’t,” he said, tugging on Draco’s hand again. “Please.”
Fuck. Potter was literally begging him to take his virginity, and Draco wanted to do it so much it hurt. But something about it made him indescribably uneasy, he didn’t like the thought of having something that intimate with Potter of all fucking people and then just… nothing. Didn’t like the idea of showing Potter what it felt like to be stretched and stuffed or to fuck into someone just so he could go do it with everyone else. He didn’t want to be involved, something told him he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Potter was looking at him, his eyes wide.
“Oh don’t pout, Potter, I’m sure everyone is simply dying to deflower you, or they would be if they knew…”
Potter closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the rug with a thump, he rubbed his eyes. “Fuck!”
“So dramatic.” Draco smirked.
Potter signed heavily then pushed himself up to sitting. “Let me give you a blow job,” he said.
Draco’s eyes widened despite himself, and Potter flipped himself over and crawled forward like it was a hand lettered invitation. He crawled close, he put his hand out and held the back of Draco’s neck firmly and sucked at his bruised neck while palming him through the jeans. Draco moaned despite himself.
“I’m surprised you own jeans,” Potter said into his ear, between sloppy kisses, voice rough.
“I’m sure I have all sorts of things that would surprise you,” Draco said, melting into the touch, losing himself in it, putting a steadying hand on Potter’s shoulder.
“Yeah? Like what?” Potter’s voice was still low and quiet, making Draco shiver as the words vibrated against the pulse in his neck.
“Uh,” Draco groaned, unable to think clearly. “I don’t know, Potter, cigarettes?"
Potter chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me.
“They’re a muggle thing!” Draco protested.
“A cool self-destructive muggle thing,” Potter murmured, hushed, against his skin.
Draco couldn’t think, Potter’s breathy utterances were flicking something in his brain and making it malfunction.
“You’re so hot,” Potter said.
And Draco shuddered his hips forward against Potter’s palm and whined helplessly. “Ugh, I thought you were going to suck it, Potter.” Draco’s head rolled back loosely.
“Couch?” Potter said, tugging lightly on his hip.
Draco hoisted himself to his feet and dropped onto the couch, barely coherent. Then Potter’s fingers were on the fastenings of his jeans and that brought him back to reality somewhat because Potter’s fingers shook a little, though with nerves or fear or excitement it was hard to tell. Draco swallowed and kept his hands on the couch cushions as Potter unbuttoned him, pulled the zipper down, unrushed, then leant down to mouth him through his pants, a shiver racking him as the the moisture from Potter’s wet breath tingled thought the fabric over his skin. Potter sucked his tip through the cotton and moaned.
“Fuck,” Draco said.
Potter didn’t try to pull his jeans off, just worked him out through the slit of his pants and smiled up at him dumbly, taking Draco’s cock in hand and squeezing. Potter’s lips were swollen and red from kissing all night, and they were wet, but he licked them anyway. Draco’s fingers clenched into the upholstery of the couch cushion. Then Potter went down on him, simple and enthusiastic, bobbing his head up and down, trying not to gag when he took him too deep. Draco fought the urge to pulse his hips forward, panting, sweating. All he could think about was how Potter had his dick in his mouth, that maybe it was the only dick he’d ever had in his mouth, that he’d got his wet swollen lips stretched around Draco’s cock and he’d begged for the opportunity. It was all too much, he was going to come like an inexperienced little twat. He wound a hand in Potter’s hair to pull him off but Potter groaned like a bitch in heat when his fingers went tight in his hair and it was almost over right then.
Draco coughed to cover a desperate gasp and said, “Stop.” As he pulled him back.
Potter looked up at him, hesitant, almost apologetic. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
Fuck. Draco blinked. That was going to be seared into his brain forever. His fingers tangled in Potter’s hair, Potter’s swollen mouth hanging partly open while he tried to catch his breath, staring up at Draco past his straining saliva wet cock. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Merlin, he’d probably never wank to anything else again. Draco wanted to tell him, finger yourself open for me, look me in the eyes…
Draco stood and shucked off his jeans and his pants. “Sit,” he said, pointing at the couch. Potter swallowed and nodded. He’d let me fuck his throat if I wanted Draco thought ruefully. “Take your trousers off,” he said. They got caught on his shoes and before he could fumble around with those again Draco sank to the ground and pulled Potter’s knees apart.
“I’ve done this before,” Potter protested.
“Not like this,” Draco said, stroking the length of him, slowly. He leant down and cleaned the precome from his slit with the hard point of his tongue, then he made his tongue broad and licked over the head. Potter hissed in a breath, his hands were clawed into the fabric of the couch cushion. Draco put the head of Potter’s cock in his mouth and sucked at it, just taking him shallowly at first and pulling off with a wet pop. Then he spit on it and felt Potter’s whole body tighten and quiver, he spread the saliva around with his hand, circled around the shaft. He took his free hand and laced it into one of Potter’s.
Potter whimpered and squirmed, trying and failing to stay still and quiet. Draco pulled Potter’s hand off the couch cushion and placed it on the back of his head, then he looked up at his face, scared and dazed and desperately aroused. It almost made him laugh, Harry Potter, not afraid of the dark lord, but try to give him a blow job… Instead he just smiled up at Potter, and hoped he didn’t look too ridiculous, but Potter just looked back, shy and kind of sweet while he chewed on his swollen bottom lip. Draco lowered his mouth back onto him. This time he ran his lips down all the way to Potter’s groin, letting his cock press deep into the back of his throat and he swallowed around it.
Potter moaned, his fingers clutching into Draco’s hair, and his thighs squeezing around Draco’s torso. Draco went fast then, bobbing up and down, letting Potter’s dick slam into the back of his throat, letting it choke him. Potter’s body jerked but he kept his hand gentle on the back of Draco’s head, hardly pulling him down at all just holding on to him. Draco came up for air and stared up at Potter while he jerked him with his hand. Draco panted and watched with satisfaction the overwrought look on Potter’s face as his gaze flitted around Draco’s, flushed and panting up at him.
When he went back down Draco shifted so he could touch himself while he sucked Potter off. He came quickly once he got his hand on himself, moaning and whimpering around Potter’s cock like a desperate slag. Potter finally pulled Draco’s head tight against him then and pulsed his hips forward, cursing and shaking through his own orgasm. Draco swallowed Potter’s come, still getting jostled by the aftershocks of his own intense release moments before.
Draco gagged a little and Potter’s hand came out of his hair immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was fucked up, I don’t know why I did that.”
Draco pulled off him slowly and looked up to see Potter frowning, worrying his lip. “That’s what you were supposed to do,” Draco said, dropping his head wearily on Potter’s left thigh and stroking over the other one with his finger tips. “That’s why I put your hand on my head.”
“Oh,” Potter said, Draco could hear the frown in his words. “Is that normal?”
“It’s not abnormal, lots of people like it… girls maybe not as much.” Draco angled his face up a bit. “Didn’t it feel good?”
Potter blinked down at him, and his hand came back to stroke the side of Draco’s face. Draco closed his eyes softly and leaned into the caress slightly.
“Yeah,” Potter said eventually, “it felt good. I just thought I shouldn’t have.”
Potter’s hand had wandered down to rest at the base of his neck, the firm weight of it pressed against his skin made him feel inexplicably short of breath, but strangely light at the same time. Draco felt himself blush. “So, was that up to your high blow job standards?”
Potter snorted out a charming laugh, and Draco wanted to cry for how much it made his heart pound in his chest. “Yeah,” Potter said sheepishly. “Um, yeah.”
Draco smiled despite himself and rolled his forehead into Potter’s leg. Potter stroked his hair. Draco shivered, then pushed himself back, clearing his throat. “I should go.”
“Stay,” Potter said.
Draco raised his eyebrows, grabbing his clothes and disentangling the pants from his jeans.
“I mean you shouldn’t apparate right?”
“I’ll walk,” Draco said, standing and pulling on his pants.
“That’s stupid,” Potter said, “just stay here, you can apparate in the morning.” He was finally getting his shoes untied and kicking them off. He pulled his trousers back up and stood, fastening them. He stepped close and his hands found Draco’s waist again, like they had a right to be there. “Just sleep here.”
Draco rolled his eyes, but Potter pulled him closer and nuzzled at his jaw.
Draco tried to sound exasperated. “Merlin, Potter, are you always this needy.”
Potter hesitated, then said, “Yes?”
Draco let his mind wander stupidly for a moment then shook his head. “I have to go.”
Harry
October 2, 2004
“So, did it work?” Ron asked. “Are you a man now?”
“Um,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at his place setting. “Sort of.”
“Yeah?” Hermione said eagerly, dropping into a chair beside him.
Harry felt colour creep up his neck. “Well…”
Hermione sipped her tea and stared at him over the rim, raising her eyebrows.
“Come on mate, don’t leave us hanging,” Ron said. “Did you find someone?”
Harry took a big gulp of his tea, unable to meet either of their eyes. “I met someone, and we, um, left together.”
“Alright!” Ron said, cuffing him on the shoulder. “There you go.”
Harry felt the heat intensifying in his cheeks. “We didn’t exactly…”
Hermione nodded at him.
“...get all the way there.”
“That’s okay,” Hermione said.
“Yeah.” Harry shrugged.
“Why not? What happened?”
Harry shrugged again while Hermione glared across him at Ron and pursed her lips.
“Everything was going well I thought” –Harry took another sip of his tea, wishing it was something stronger– “and I… told him it was my first time and he just… wouldn’t.”
“What! Why?” Ron said incredulously.
“I don’t know, I said it wasn’t a big deal, and he said I should find someone I liked or some rubbish.”
Ron groaned. “I mean why did you tell him?”
“It just slipped out! He asked me what I liked–”
“Lie!”
“Ron! Harry, don’t lie.”
“Well yeah, I would’ve if I’d known he’d be so weird about it.”
“He was weird about it?” Hermione asked, cocking her head and frowning.
“Well he didn’t believe me at first, then when he did he acted like it was…” Harry gestured vaguely. “A whole thing.”
“Well, that’s kind of sweet,” Hermione said.
Ron rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think he was being sweet,” Harry laughed.
“Why’s that?”
“I–I don’t know,” Harry said, shrugging, thinking about intense grey eyes boring into him, finding him wanting. “No reason.”
“So you didn’t pop your cherry?”
“Ron, don’t say it like that,” Hermione snapped.
Harry kept his eyes down as he plowed through the mortifying facts of it. “I sucked his dick a bit, but he stopped me.” He didn’t want to be talking to Ron and Hermione about this, he didn’t want to have to talk about it, he wanted to have gotten it done and over with years ago like a bloody normal person.
“What! But why? Why?” Ron said.
Harry shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on his plate. “I don’t think I was much good at it.”
Ron shook his head. “Were you trying to bite it off or something?”
“Ron!”
“No, but, I mean I don’t really know what I’m doing, do I?” Harry tried to keep from snapping.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Oh-kay. So that’s it? He stopped you, you went on your way?”
“No, he, um, returned the favor,” Harry said, “and then pretty much just went home after.”
Hermione frowned. “You didn’t take him to yours did you?”
“What?” Harry said, looking up at her.
She eyed him. “You didn’t take a muggle to Grimmauld Place right?”
“Oh, er, no, it was a hotel,” Harry lied.
Hermione relaxed. “Well did you have fun at least? Was it a… good blow job?” She blushed and laughed.
“Yeah, it was good.” Harry’s face was on fire. “He–um, really seemed to know what he was doing.” Harry didn’t tell them that it had been Malfoy or about how Malfoy had told him that it’s alright etiquette to choke someone on your dick if they put your hand on their head first. He didn’t tell them that he was still thinking about the way Malfoy kissed and how he smelled or the way his neck bruised so easily. He didn’t tell them that he couldn’t think about anything else, that even sitting in their kitchen his mind was on Malfoy’s lips, puffy from kissing him, then wrapping around his cock. He didn’t tell them about how Malfoy’s waist fit perfectly under his hands like it was made to be there. He didn’t tell them that Malfoy had a pretty smile when he wasn’t being a prick. Or that Malfoy was dead sexy in jeans and a t-shirt.
“It sounds like you liked him.” Hermione smiled. “Are you going to see him again?”
“Oh,” said Harry, unsure what to say.
“Yeah, you get his number?” Ron said with a wink.
Harry licked his lips. “No.”
“Why not?” Hermione asked.
“I mean, I don’t think he would want…” Harry trailed off, frowning. He’d stop thinking about Malfoy soon, he was just still reeling from the night because it had been so intense, so… unexpected, but he’d hook up with someone properly and then the thing with Malfoy wouldn’t matter. He’d woken hung over and hard as a broomstick that morning, and he’d come in record time to the memory of Malfoy stepping into him at the club, putting his arms around Harry’s neck, molding himself against Harry’s body, then his lips on his neck. Harry shifted in his chair and tried to think about something else, his cock was starting to twitch interestedly at the memory.
“So are you going to try again tonight?”
Harry looked at his tea, brow furrowed. “No, not tonight,” he said. “Next weekend I guess.”
Harry lay in bed that night, taking himself in hand for the third time that day. He tried to think about something beside Malfoy but gave up rather quickly and came thinking about Malfoy’s head limp and relaxed against his thigh, smiling up at him, unguarded. He thought about if he had stroked the pad of his thumb over Malfoy’s swollen lip, wondered if he would have opened and invited the digit inside. He thought about if Malfoy had swayed in the other direction, if he’d fallen, soft and spent into Harry’s bed and allowed himself to be pulled close while he slept. He imagined waking up hazy and out of it in the middle of the night and having Malfoy roll against him, meeting his lips sloppy and incoherent in their half sleep torpor.
October 8, 2004
Harry did try again the next weekend, he went to a different club, embarrassed at the prospect of being remembered from The Glory. He wore a long sleeve t-shirt with his slacks this time, zhuzhing the sleeves up almost to his elbows, it was a snugger fit than he felt really comfortable wearing but Luna had insisted it was the right size, and refused to let him buy a backup he felt more comfortable in.
Harry could feel eyes on him after he walked in and soon enough he was being chatted up. The man leaned in and kissed him at one point. It didn’t feel the same, gone was the furious desire that had burned through him unchecked like a wildfire with Malfoy pressed close against him. He let the man take him home anyway.
It wasn’t as simple, or obvious with Jackson, Harry felt unsure. But Harry went to his knees when Jackson sat on the couch and he didn’t protest when Harry opened his jeans, worked them past his thighs then down around his ankles, or when he licked away the precome from his slit or tongued along his shaft before swallowing him down.
Jackson said, “Finger me.”
And Harry was nervous and unsure so he reached out instead and pulled Jackson’s hand to the back of his head, then he closed his eyes and imagined it was Malfoy moaning and thrusting down his throat. Malfoy’s cock choking him. Malfoy using him, and he groaned while he gagged and tears welled in his eyes. Malfoy saying, “God, yeah,” and going rigid as he came down Harry’s throat. Harry came away gasping for breath, tears on his cheeks.
Jackson maneuvered him onto the couch, and he didn’t invite Harry’s hand to the back of his head, but he pulled his hips to the edge of the seat and spread his legs wide then he pushed Harry back with a palm to his chest. He pressed a saliva soaked finger into Harry’s hole while he sucked his cock, stroking him from the inside, making Harry gasp and groan. And Harry closed his eyes and that was Malfoy too. Harry thought about Malfoy’s long boney fingers inside him, stretching him out, getting him ready for more. Harry came thinking about Malfoy’s cock sinking into him, one slow torturous inch at a time, thinking about how Malfoy might call him, tight while he did it. Harry’s head rolled back and he came, groaning and shuddering.
Harry didn’t want to stay and Jackson didn’t invite him to. Harry walked home, letting the cold night air wash over and refresh him. The evening had been somewhat successful, he felt like… less of a virgin after Jackson fingering him, but he was irked by how present Malfoy had been in his mind during the whole interaction. He had intended to supplant the whole Malfoy thing with a new experience, but far from over shadowing his hookup with Malfoy the Jackson thing seemed to be somehow making him think even more about Malfoy. He thought about Malfoy in the shower later that night before bed, and in the morning again before he got up and made himself breakfast.
October 9, 2004
“What was his name?” Hermione asked.
“Jackson,” Harry said.
“No, I mean the guy from last week,” Hermione said.
“Oh.” Harry flushed. “Um–Adam.” Because it was the first name that came to mind and it felt too late to tell them it was Malfoy.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful look, making Harry feel irritable, they were reading too much into it. Misinterpreting Harry’s awkwardness over lying about Malfoy’s identity as being secretly enamored of the mysterious sexy muggle he’d hooked up with.
Harry tried using a muggle dating app and meeting someone for a drink at a bar. He tried nibbling on someone’s earlobe, the way Malfoy had done right before Harry had gotten completely fucking lost in his body and the heat of him and his urgent fingers and his perfect lips. He tried staying home a couple weekends, waiting for the intensity of everything to die down. He thought maybe it was just hard with muggles because they didn’t have much in common and asked Luna if she knew any wizards she could set him up with, that was how he ended up on an awkward date with Justin Finch-Fletchly, and of course that had to be the night he ran into Malfoy for the first time in two months.
December 4, 2005
Outside the restaurant after they’d eaten, Justin leaning into his personal space, Harry resisting with all his might the urge to back away, discussing where they would go next, Justin had reached out and fussed with the corner of Harry’s coat, sort of absently, like they were more intimate than they were, and that’s when Malfoy had been crossing the street toward them. Harry noticed because Malfoy stopped in his tracks about ten paces away. Harry glanced up and their eyes met, and Malfoy flushed and looked away then turned to the left and walked quickly down the sidewalk, giving them as wide a berth as possible.
Harry stepped back from Justin quickly but Malfoy was already gone, Harry’s heart pounded and something unpleasant nagged at him watching Malfoy walk away, wanted to clarify that he hadn’t been out with Justin before and it wasn’t going spectacularly well or anything.
Justin had followed his eyes. “Ugh, I hate running into him,” Justin said, his lip curling in disgust.
“Do you?” Harry said, trying not to sound too interested. “Run into him I mean.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he goes to the muggle clubs.” His words were laden with inflection like they implied something gravely sinister.
“Is that bad?” Harry asked nervously.
“Malfoy? With muggles?” Justin raised his eyebrows. “Can’t be anything good right?”
“Maybe he just doesn’t want to be recognized.” Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked Malfoy about it when he’d had the chance. Maybe if Malfoy had spent the night he would have let Harry ask him questions in the darkness of his bedroom. Maybe he would have been honest like that, after they’d both orgasmed, tired and still a little drunk he might have let Harry ask him things.
Justin laughed mirthlessly. “I doubt it.”
“Where do you see him?”
“Just around,” Justin said, frowning. “I don’t go to muggle spots all that much, but some of my friends are muggles, so we can’t go to wizard places you know.”
“Sure,” Harry said, resisting the urge to crane his neck around Justin and try to see where Malfoy had gone.
Justin lead them to a new wizarding bar and they walked there slowly. They had been there ten minutes, in the queue at the bar, almost to the front of the line when Harry scanned around and spotted Malfoy in a far corner table, sitting with someone Harry didn’t recognize.
“God, he just thinks he can go wherever he wants,” Justin said scornfully, following Harry’s gaze again.
“I guess,” Harry said, tearing his eyes away, feeling out of sorts.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Justin said, touching his arm as he spoke.
“No, it’s fine,” said Harry, fighting again with his desire to pull away. “I don’t care.”
The only open table wasn’t exactly close to Malfoy and his date but it wasn’t so far away either and Harry’s stomach tied in knots as they sat. He couldn’t help looking over at Malfoy as they sat and caught him looking a fit frantic then shrinking down in his seat and staring at the table in front of him.
“Are you sure you don’t care,” Justin said. “I don’t mind leaving, I don’t like being around him either.”
“I didn’t say…” Harry started, shaking his head. “It’s really fine.”
Harry couldn’t help but notice a few minutes later when Malfoy’s date excused himself to the bathroom and Malfoy slunk out from their table and through a back exit. “I’ll be right back,” Harry said.
Justin nodded. “Loo’s just around there.” He pointed.
“Thanks,” Harry said, then he walked to the back of the bar and slipped through the same exit he had seen Malfoy take. And there he was, just around the corner when Harry rounded it, leaning back against the exterior bricks with his eyes shut and a cigarette fitted loosely between his lips. Harry put his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “Hey,” he said.
Malfoy’s eyes flew open at the same time as he sputtered in surprise. “Fuck!” he said, dropping his cigarette.
“Sorry,” Harry said, stepping closer, feeling awkward. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Malfoy breathed heavily and looked angrily at the fallen cigarette, he crushed it with the toe of his shoe and pulled the box and a lighter from his robes, hands a little shaky. “What can I do for you, Potter?” he asked, lighting a new one and closing his eyes for a second on a long inhale.
Harry wanted to tell him he looked good with a cigarette. Wanted to tell him nothing was happening with Justin. That he didn’t even think about Justin’s lips burning his skin or his fingers in his mouth. He wanted to ask Malfoy why he went to muggle clubs, and what he thought of muggles now. He wanted to step into the space between them and put his hands on Malfoy’s lovely narrow waist and see what would happen.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Malfoy said at length, dropping his half smoked cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the paving stones along with the first one.
Harry couldn’t speak, couldn’t decide what to say. He caught Malfoy’s elbow as he passed. “Wait,” he said because he didn’t want to be misunderstood, he didn’t want Malfoy to think he was asking him to leave, or that Harry didn’t want him there. Malfoy froze and looked at him finally, then looked down at Harry’s hand on his elbow, keeping him from leaving.
“What?” he said warily.
Harry searched, Malfoy’s skin was soft under his fingers and his thumb, unbidden, stroked a short arc against it then gripped just a little tighter. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice was strained.
Malfoy pulled slightly on his arm. “I know I don’t have to,” Malfoy said. “Sorry to interrupt your date though, hope it’s going well.” His voice was acid and sharp.
“It’s not,” Harry snapped back, narrowing his eyes.
“Shame,” Malfoy said. “He seems so lovely.”
“He has good reasons not to like you, Malfoy.”
“No one said he didn’t,” Malfoy spat. “Can I go now? Am I under arrest?” he said, squirming back and jerking on his arm.
“Problem, Malfoy?” Justin’s voice was harsh in the cold night air.
Malfoy went instantly still, averting his eyes down contritely. Harry’s stomach flipped.
“No,” Malfoy said, his tone quiet and respectful. He moved his head very slowly to look at Harry, then glanced carefully, without moving his head, at Harry’s hand on his arm. “I was just leaving.”
He let Malfoy go, feeling ashamed.
“Think that’s best,” Justin said, stepping closer to Harry’s side, fingering his wand in the pocket of his robes.
“Yeah,” Malfoy said quietly, then he turned and walked quickly down the street.
“Did he even pay his tab?” Justin asked with disdain as they walked back inside.
Harry didn’t say anything, he wanted to go home. “I’m tired,” he said abruptly when they got back to the table and he saw his full drink and realized there was no way in hell he was going to sit there and drink the whole thing, that he couldn’t stand to sit with Justin for that much longer. Justin insisted on walking him home. When they got to Harry’s step Justin stepped in presumptuously. They were almost of a height, Justin just a bit shorter than Harry. Justin pressed into his space and kissed him, and Harry wondered if this was what it felt like for Malfoy when they had kissed. Harry put his arms tentatively around Justin’s neck like Malfoy had done to him. Justin growled and pulled Harry close. It felt wrong and Harry broke away. “Thanks,” he mumbled before turning to his door, then, “Have a good night,” to make sure there was no confusion.